Chapter 42

 

 

When they get back to their car, Derrick first calls Bemis’s admin to see how things went with Bemis and the Board of Supervisors. He is told that he hasn’t returned yet. That could mean anything from he told the entire bunch to take a long walk off a short pier and stormed out to have a few drinks somewhere and contemplate what he was going to do with the rest of his life, to his sitting in a cell for clobbering the county’s chief administrator, to making his case and running some errands before heading back to his office unscathed.

 

He then calls Jim Schroeder who heads up their technical unit to get him going on putting the taps in place on the communications set up in Pelegrinno’s office.

 

His last call is to a buddy of his who’s an investment advisor with one of the brokerage houses in town and is always taking customers to the golf course, lunch, dinner or a show. In other words, he knows his way around the city pretty well.

 

“Hi, Scotty, I need your advice on something.”

 

“I don’t believe this. After all these years you’re going to shake the dust off those purse strings of yours and put your millions of dollars to work for you. What brought this miracle about?”

 

“As always, you’ve opened your smart ass mouth and demonstrated your ignorance of the situation. You’re right about the millions though, but wrong about the tender. At last count, I had almost one point five million pennies in my coffers and since I don’t want you to tax your brain I’ll tell you that equals almost $15,000 and every one of them is earmarked for a down payment on a new Beemer I’ve been coveting for a while now.”

 

Chuckling Scotty says, “Okay, I’ll cool it until you win the lottery and then I’ll be all over you. What do you need?”

 

“I’m in town with another deputy as part of an investigation we’re conducting. We haven’t eaten anything since breakfast and we’re starving. We’re in the mood for seafood. Where would you recommend we go?”

 

“Are you on your own nickel or the county’s?”

 

“Mine.”

 

“Fisherman’s Wharf is the place to go. I like the Fog Harbor Fish House on Pier 39. The food’s terrific, the price won’t break the bank and it’s right for what you get.”

 

“Thanks buddy.”

 

“You’re welcome. It’s an honor to assist those sworn to protect and serve.”

 

“Knock it off. We both know you’re still a kid at heart and would do anything to have even the remotest possibility of riding in a car with flashing blue and red lights and a siren blaring.”

 

While both of them are laughing at this good natured kidding Scotty manages to get out, “Are we still on for the fishing trip at the end of the month?”

 

“I’m planning on it and my gear is checked and sitting in my garage waiting for me to once again embarrass you with my casting prowess.”

 

“In your dreams. Hey, I’ve got to go. Warren Buffet is on line three waiting for me to bail him out of a tight spot again.”

 

“In your dreams.”

 

Shoving his cell back into his pocket he turns to Julie and says, “I’ve got the perfect place for us to chow down. My friend knows this city like the back of his hand and if he gives his stamp of approval on an eatery you can take it to the bank that’s it’s a top of the heap place to dine.”

 

“From your end of the conversation it sounded like the two of you are pretty tight.”

 

“We’ve been pals since grammar school. We enjoy each other’s company and have a good many similar interests. We even chose careers with similarities.”

 

“What does he do for a living?”

 

“He’s an investment advisor for a broker in town.”

“What is similar between a cop and an investment guru?”

 

“We both search for people, Scott for decent folks with lots of money to invest and me for bad folks with lots of bad intentions to foist on an unsuspecting public.”

 

“Oh come on. That’s a bit of a stretch don’t you think?”

 

Laughing softly Derrick says, “Maybe, but the people and the scenarios we both come across in our jobs often reflect the same personality traits, goals and means such as avarice, hate, a lust for influence and power. The only difference lies in the legality of the situations.”

 

“Where did your friend suggest we eat?”

 

“On Fisherman’s Wharf at a place called Fog Harbor Fish House.”

 

“I wonder what their prime rib is like.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Gotcha!”

 

Laughing Derrick says, “I’m sure there will be quite an assortment of other types of flesh that will tempt your taste buds and satiate your carnivorous tendencies.”

 

“Well then, let’s not sit here talking. Let’s go sit there and devour the goodies.”

 

The restaurant is everything Scotty said it was. The food is delicious, the quantities enormous, the price reasonable and the view from Pier 39 is breathtaking, but Derrick spends most of the time enjoying the view sitting across from him and thinking about where their relationship is headed. “This woman is definitely getting to me and I’m not sure how I feel about that. I’ve been on my own leash for my entire adult life and am very comfortable with my bachelorhood. Even thinking about the possibility of being committed to one woman scares the hell out of me. Besides, the likelihood of her feeling the same way about me is probably slim to none.”

 

His reverie is interrupted by Julie asking him, “What kind of fishing do you and Scotty do?”

 

“Mostly fresh water fly fishing, mostly out on the water, but sometimes from on shore. Do you like to fish?”

 

“I’ve never tried it. When I’m near the water, I’m normally getting ready to swim, snorkel, or scuba dive. Occasionally, I lie on the beach and soak up some sun.”

 

Their conversation is halted by Derrick’s cell sounding off. “Chandler.”

 

“Sergeant, this is Dr. Hennessey. As you requested, I’m calling to notify you that there has been a change in the condition of the man who was shot in the head. He has come out of his comma and is somewhat lucid, but far from normal.

 

“The bullet shattered when it pierced the skull where the Frontal, Parietal and Temporal lobes join and pieces of the bullet did considerable damage to these lobes. The Frontal Lobe controls thinking, memory, behavior and movement, the Parietal Lobe controls language and touch and the Temporal Lobe controls hearing, learning and feeling. All of these functions have been affected, how seriously is not known as yet.

 

“We have tried to communicate with the patient, but although responsive his speech is garbled and unintelligible. His motor functions are also inhibited to a degree. How permanent any of these injuries may be only time will tell. We’re doing everything we can to keep his body nourished and comfortable.”

 

“What do you think his chances are of regaining his ability to think clearly and communicate intelligently?”

 

“I have no idea, Sergeant. He’s come out of his comma fairly quickly which is a good sign. The human body never ceases to amaze me with its ability to regenerate and heal itself even when it has undergone horrific trauma. We’ll just have to wait and see.”

 

“Okay, Doctor. Thanks for the update. If there are any other changes, please continue to keep me abreast of them.”

 

“Will do.”

 

Tossing his cell on the table he says, “Well, there’s good news and not so good news.”

 

“Lay it on me.”

 

“Our arsonist has come out of his comma, but his brain really got scrambled and although he responds to stimuli he can’t think clearly or communicate and his motor skills have been impaired. The doctor says we’ll have to wait and see if his condition improves. There’s nothing more they can do for him medically except keep him nourished and as comfortable as possible.”

 

“Well, that’s better than him subconsciously really biting the bullet and dying.”

 

“Maybe. If he remains in his current state though, he’ll be no good to us.”

 

Looking at the two empty bottles of wine on the table, both from Napa Valley wineries, one had held a Turley Wine Cellars White Zinfandel and the other had held a Weingut Edelweiss Riesling, Derrick says “If we have any more of this, we won’t be good for us. We can hold our heads up high though because we did our part to support the economic growth of the county we work for.”

 

Laughing, Julie says, “It was a wonderful accompaniment to a fabulous meal. Thanks for the treat, Derrick.”

 

“You’re welcome, Julie. I owe Scotty big time for this. I’m glad we got to spend some down time together. I enjoyed every minute of it.”

 

“Laughing some more she quips, “Even when the waiter spilled some wine in your lap.”

 

“Well, that was a moment to remember, but it was understandable. He was blinded by your beauty and just couldn’t help it, so I forgave him.”

 

Laughing even louder she says, “Are you sure you don’t have any Irish genes in you. There are times when you can really dish up the blarney.”

 

Joining in on the laughter he says, “Well maybe on my father’s side, but he was a shirttail relative so that doesn’t count for much.”

 

When their laughter subsides Derrick says, “As much as I hate to see this evening end, I think it’s time for us to head back. Are you ready to split?”

 

“Ready, willing and we’ll see how able when I stand up.”

 

This starts him laughing again, but as he waives for the waiter to give him their check he suddenly realizes that it wasn’t the smartest move for them to down two bottles of wine while on duty even if they did eat enough food to stave off inebriation. The PR folks definitely wouldn’t approve, even if he and Julie aren’t drunk and they aren’t, if word somehow got out that two deputies had consumed two bottles of wine and then got in their car and drove off without giving a second thought to the safety of the general public.

 

He knows Julie’s kidding and he feels fine, but to be on the safe side and avoid the wrath of Bemis, he’ll be extra careful driving back to the station. “I saw a jar of mints on the way in. I’ll grab a handful to cover the smell of the wine if there’s a need.”

 

After he signs the credit card receipt and stuffs his copy into his pocket, they both stop off at the restrooms and then on the way out of the restaurant he remembers to grab a handful of mints, but the jar is empty.

 

Mumbling to himself he says, “Damn. If I didn’t want the suckers, the jar would be crammed to the top.”

 

As he pulls out of the parking garage Julie says, “Don’t worry. I’ve got some Tic Tac if we need them.”

 

“How did you know?”

 

“I heard you mumbling.”

 

“You heard me? How could you? You were a good ten yards away from me looking at that Golden Retriever in the cab of that semi.”

 

“I have excellent hearing and besides you mumble like my deaf uncle, loud.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Really.”

 

This brings a smile to his face as he is reminded of something his deaf grandfather used to say to him frequently. “Speak up, Derrick, you’re mumbling again.”

 

The ride back to the station is an uneventful and quiet one, each of them lost in their own thoughts which are occasionally punctuated by comments and observations concerning the investigation. There is no need for the Tic Tacs as Derrick did nothing to draw attention to them.

 

Pulling into the parking area for the county vehicles Derrick says, “We can write up our report tomorrow morning. At the moment, I don’t think it’s number one on Bemis’s priority list. If he’s still off the radar, we’ll have to wait for instructions on what to do with it anyway.”

 

“What’s on the agenda for tomorrow? I have a court appearance at ten.”

“I’ll let you know when I know.”

 

“Okay and thanks again for dinner.”

 

“You’re welcome again. Now get out of here. I’ve got to go home and count my bottles and cans and the coins in my piggy bank to see if I have enough to cover what I charged to my plastic tonight. If not, I’ve got to resurrect my lemonade stand and put it back in play to raise the balance. That’s going to take some time, so go, go, go and don’t forget to pick up Duke.”

 

Laughing, she climbs out of the car and disappears behind the wall separating the county parking area from the employee and public parking areas.

 

After turning in the county car, he heads for his car reviewing in his mind the exchanges between Julie and him over dinner. “I haven’t laughed this much in a long time. She’s..

 

His thought are interrupted by the sound of a gunshot coming from somewhere close by and he dives for cover alongside a car parked a few spots down from his. After waiting for a minute or so, another shot rings out and then nothing. With his sidearm drawn, Derrick slowly starts to move towards the street the sounds came from. When he gets to the street and looks around, all he sees is an old beat up small truck in the middle of the road, smoke pouring out of the engine compartment like smoke from a chimney. He walks over to the driver who has opened the hood of the vehicle and is standing there shaking his head and swearing like a sailor with a hole in his hull and asks, “Was that your truck that backfired?”

 

“Yeah, this pig just gasped it’s last breath. It’s ready for the junkyard graveyard.”

 

“Do you have Triple A or do you want me to call a tow truck for you?”

 

“I have a road side service, but it’s not Triple AAA. I’ve just called them and they’re on their way.”

 

“Okay then I’ll leave you to your cussing and move along.”

 

This got a chuckle out of the driver and Derrick was glad he was still on a roll with the laughs.

 

Walking back to his car though he began chastising himself for being so careless and not paying attention to what was going on around him. “You moron, there could have been a sniper out here and you would never have had a chance to spot him or hear the sounds of the rounds aimed at you because that pea brain of yours was elsewhere. If you keep pulling stunts like that, you won’t be laughing anymore. You’ve always got to expect the worst and prepare for it. You know that damn it! You forget that and you’ll soon be forgotten lying in a grave somewhere. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!”

 

All the way to picking up Champ and then driving home he thought about how fortunate he was that no one was out in the parking lot waiting for him and how fortunate he was to also have a dog like Champ to look out for him. Looking back at Champ he says, “When this is all over buddy, you’re going to have a feast fit for royalty, courtesy of the thankful idiot here.”

 

Champ barks softly once and then ignores him by looking out the window and watching the scenery roll by.

 

“Okay, your reward is negotiable. How about I fix you up with that cute golden retriever across the street from me?”

 

Laughing, he feels the tension from the embarrassment his behavior generated lessen and by the time he pulls into his driveway at home he’s managed to forgive himself for being such an ass and for chewing himself out for being human and hung up on a very interesting woman. Going forward, however, he’s determined to keep in mind the danger he and Julie are in and act accordingly until the heat is off. “No more screw ups numbnuts.”