33

At quarter past six Powder walked into the Night Room. He wanted to clear out his stuff. By 6:30 he’d emptied the drawers and filing cabinet and corners and the hiding place in the light shade. Everything piled on the surface of his desk. Though he could still see over the top, he didn’t think he had a prayer of removing the stuff without one of his suitcases or at least a large bag. He rubbed his face and then realized that one of the turfed-out items, an old trench coat, could be used to advantage. He unbuttoned it and spread it out on the floor. Selectively he started to shift the pile from the desk to the coat.

“Caught in the act.”

“What?”

Schleutter stood in the entranceway grinning ironically.

“I figured to get my stuff out before you came,” Powder said. “But there was more than I remembered.” He felt unaccustomedly sheepish before Schleutter.

“So what’s all this about?”

Powder stood up and realized he was sweating. “I wanted to get my stuff cleared out before you guys came in.”

“Cleared out? I thought you were just cleaning house.”

“Nope,” Powder said, and looked down at his trench coat. All he could see were the arms at each side ready to embrace the artifacts of his nineteen-year stay.

Schleutter pressed. “You leaving permanently? That what you saying?”

“Yup.”

“My God!” said Schleutter. He saw uncomforting visions of change. A period of adjustment, transition. “So that’s what they were on about.”

“Who?”

“Oh. Gaulden, in Personnel, asked me if I wanted to take over for you.”

“And?”

“And I said no. I didn’t realize he meant permanently.”

“I don’t know whether he knows. You’re not taking it, then?”

Schleutter shook his head. Regretfully.

“A good cop would have filled the gap,” Powder said without pity.

“Well …” Schleutter drawled, “I kinda figured he was a-gonna put me in the hot seat n’matter what I said.”

“So you said no. And so you get to work under some other son of a bitch.”

Schleutter wrinkled his nose. “I’m happy where I am,” he said. It was true enough, enough to allow him to adjust to the reality as it lay before him. “Hell,” he said, “I know what I can do and what I can’t. I’d be pushing it to take on more responsibility.”

Powder didn’t answer as he pulled the arms of the coat up around the pile of papers and trinkets. They wouldn’t tie. “Who’s replacing me, then?”

“Oh, for crying out loud!”

Schleutter and Powder looked toward the night doorway, where Howard Brindell stood fuming, hands on hips.

“Those fucking liars downstairs,” Brindell said savagely. He turned on his heel and left.

“What’s that about?” Schleutter asked.

“I guess he doesn’t like your looks,” Powder said.

Schleutter helped Powder carry the corpse to the elevator. While they waited, Sid Smith walked by and asked pleasantly, “Who’s your drunk friend?”

“Aren’t you late for duty, Sergeant?” Powder snapped.

Smith just sighed. The story he’d heard was that Powder had been relieved of his night command. No tears from Sid Smith.

The elevator came and Schleutter helped Powder load the coat and contents. “Oh hell,” Schleutter said, “I’ll help you get it to your car. Doesn’t matter if I’m late.”

“Not a good way to break in your new boss,” Powder said.

“Begin the way you’re going to go on.”

The two men carried the coat to Powder’s car, where they found the trunk already full of tools.

They opted for the back seat instead of trying to fit and juggle.

“You coming back in?” asked Schleutter.

“Yeah,” Powder said. “A few more odds and ends.”