Saturday 7:03 A.M.

 

When he got back home, it was just after seven. Ben was still asleep. Paul didn’t hear the boys stirring. In the laundry room, he found a pair of freshly washed and dried gym shorts from when he was in high school. He changed out of his jeans. He liked the well-worn cottony feel. He made himself a cup of coffee and sat on the back porch. With the shorts on, what little breeze there was outside stirred the hair on his arms and legs.

The humidity seemed almost close to bearable. The garden needed weeding. He’d have to get to that. Ben tilled and planted. Paul tended and harvested. The tall fence, the garage, and the large trees in full leaf screened the porch from any prying neighbors.

Paul watched the summer light spread around the yard. He was tired from stress, the long hours of work, and lack of sleep. He sat and mulled until he heard Jeff’s wheelchair. It stopped in the kitchen at the espresso maker for a minute or two. Then the back door swung open, and Jeff wheeled out.

“Morning,” Paul said.

“Morning.” The boy busied himself balancing his small cup of coffee as he transferred himself to the swing next to Paul. His dad was careful not to help without asking first. The boy was sensitive about doing things on his own. It took longer, but Paul figured if the boy needed a few extra moments, as a dad, he could spare the time. Paul took off his shirt and wiped sweat off. He draped it on his chair to be tossed in the laundry hamper later.

Jeff settled then said, “You got in after I fell asleep.”

“It was late.”

“You’re up early again. What’s wrong?”

“Things at work are complicated.”

“I read all the reports on the Internet including from the local newspapers. Are you part of the Code of Silence in the department? Is that what’s happening in this case? Does the Code of Silence work for you or against you since it’s a fight between detectives?”

“What do you know about it?”

“Just what was in the papers.”

“And what did it say?”

Jeff began to recite chapter and verse from what he read. The boy’s memory was phenomenal. As for his understanding of what he read, he still often needed help. He continued for several minutes, paused, sipped from his espresso cup, then finished with, “Are you going to be okay? Are you okay?”

“On the job, I’m going to do my work as best I can. I’ll talk to who I have to talk to. It’s more complicated now because there’s been a history, then again, come to think of it, there’s always a history that makes things complicated.”

“You’re not going to get fired?”

“No.” Paul knew that as long as Molton was his Commander, he was reasonably safe.

Jeff said, “The bullies always win. The rich always lie. Are they going to try to kill you?” At the end, the boy could not suppress a plaintive tremble in his voice.

Paul put his hand on his son’s arm, looked him in the eyes. He said, “I’m going to do the best I can to keep you, Brian, Ben, and myself safe. After that, I catch bad guys. Today will be the same as any other.” Paul hoped this was true.

Jeff nodded, which Paul took to mean acceptance of what he’d said. The boy asked, “What does it mean when it says a police officer has been ‘stripped of his police powers?’”

“That he or she sits at a desk doing boring work for hours on end.”

“But still gets a paycheck.”

“For now.”

“Is Mr. Fenwick okay?”

“As much as he ever is.”

“They’ve got all those review boards. Do you have to face them?”

“Anyone can face them at any time. I haven’t done anything wrong, so there’s nothing to fear.” He hoped that was true. For now, it was enough truth for his son.

“But you saved that kid from Carruthers. You saved those kids from the storm.”

“Just doing my job,” Paul said.

Jeff said, “Why doesn’t the Code of Silence work both ways?”

“What do you mean?” Paul asked.

“The Code of Silence hushes up mistreatment of minorities and tolerates misconduct. Those guys won a lawsuit against the Code of Silence. Costs the city two million bucks. But even so, whoever snitches is a ‘rat motherfucker’. I can say that in this case right?”

“For now.”

“Well, if Carruthers is one of their own and they rally around to protect him, and if you and Mr. Fenwick are ones of their own, why don’t they rally around to protect you? Why doesn’t it work both ways? I think they might contradict each other. You can’t be on both sides at once.”

Paul said, “Sometimes people feel they have to choose, or feel they need to.”

“They think you broke the Code of Silence by saving that kid?” Jeff banged the arm of the swing. “That makes no sense. You saved somebody’s life. Carruthers’s reputation is more important than that kid’s life?”

“It’s what each person has invested in Carruthers’s reputation that makes a difference.”

Jeff banged the arm of the swing again. “That’s bullshit.”

Paul said, “Besides making your hand and wrist sore, what good does banging it do?”

“I’m mad. It makes me feel better.”

“Is that the best way to deal with frustration?”

“You know I get mad.”

“And I know this isn’t the only time we’ve talked about this.”

“I’m defending you.”

“And I appreciate it. Do we bang things, throw things, hit out?”

Paul got a whispered, “No.” Jeff paused for a moment than asked, “Don’t you get mad? Don’t you get angry?”

“Yep.”

“So what do you do?”

“I work even harder to be logical, do research, and make sense and take deliberate, useful action. It’s the difference between President Obama and his predecessor and his successor.”

“But that’s distant and far. I’m talking about us.”

Paul sighed, “Sometimes when I’m angry, very angry, frustrated, the question for me is what can I do about the anger, how can I ease the frustration? I’ve never found hitting something made a problem any better.”

“But wouldn’t you feel better?”

“I feel better when I can solve the problem.”

“I’m a kid.”

“Took me a while to learn as well.” Paul paused then said, “I will listen to you explain your anger for as long as you like. Please don’t hit.”

A teenage pause and a mumbled, “Okay.”

The two sat in companionable silence.

Ben, wearing a pair of baggy basketball shorts, showed up and stood next to Jeff. The three chatted for a while. Jeff had to get to his Saturday morning chess league meeting. He did his wheelchair thing in reverse and then trundled off.

Ben sat next to Paul. “You okay?”

“As much as I can be with work a mess.”

“Is Carruthers suicidal?”

“I never thought so before these events. His wife certainly gave that impression.”

“The world is against him. From what you described, his wife isn’t very fond of him. Why does she stay married to him?”

“Who knows? But suicidal? Beats the hell out of me. He’s so relentlessly Carruthers, it’s hard to think of him as anything else. I reported it to the Commander and let Barb Dams know. I did my part. They’ll follow all the procedures.”

“Are his protectors abandoning him? I would if I were them.”

“I don’t know because I’m not sure who his protectors are. Certainly they’re going to try to save their own skins, their own jobs, their own careers. They wouldn’t let Carruthers threaten that. I don’t think.”

“But you’re a threat to all that is theirs. That’s what I worry about. What if they want to get you out of the way?”

“We’ve got Molton, and now that Carruthers is gone, according to Barb Dams, all the detectives on the squad at Area Ten.”

“There’ve been random killings and random shootings.”

“That’s what makes them so hard to solve.”

“But they could become specific to you.”

As they sat, their elbows and arms touched, they could feel the hair on each other’s legs. Paul loved the warmth and masculinity. Neither wore a shirt, so their hairy-chests and six-pack abs stood out.

Paul said, “That’s one of the reasons Fenwick and I are going in early again today. We want to solve the murder case so we can concentrate on the Carruthers bullshit. Although as far as Molton, Fenwick, and I can see, it’s all one big case.”