Behind the Badge Read online

  “I appreciate your sacrifice,” Crockett said.

  “Yeah. ‘Specially with the women, man. I can’t exactly bring nobody out here. I’ll blow my, like, cover, ya know? Maybe I should get a apartment or somethin’ for a while.”

  Crockett winked at Satin. She smiled and picked up the thread.

  “Well,” she said, “I’m going for a little morning cruise. You want to come along, Stitch?

  “For what?”

  “A cruise. A tour around the lake. You can only see a little of it from here. A boat ride.”

  “Far out.”

  “Coming Crockett?”

  “Nah. I’ll see you in a little while.”

  *****

  After Satin and Stitch left, Crockett finished his coffee, went into Satin’s office, grabbed the sketches from the cabin company, and jumped in this truck. At the end of the driveway he turned left, drove a quarter of a mile to the corner, turned left again, drove nearly a half-mile, turned left one more time, and pulled into Stitch’s driveway. A hundred or so yards later he was at the site, standing at the edge of the water on the ramp, as the pontoon boat came into view. A surprised Stitch tossed Crockett the bow rope, and he pulled them in and tied the boat off. Stitch helped Satin hop to shore, and she and Crockett walked up the ramp, with him trailing behind them. He looked around.

  “What’s this?” he asked.

  “Yours, if you want it,” Crockett said.

  “Mine?”

  “Yeah,” Crockett replied, pointing about the area. “House here, open-ended garage there, storage building over there, and down the drive through the trees, is a helo pad. Clements Road is about a hundred yards down that drive over there.”

  “You mean a crib for me?”

  “That’s exactly what we mean.”

  Stitch walked to the house foundation and peered at it. “My place would be, like, here?”

  “This would all be your place, Stitch. Your house would be there.”

  “No shit?”

  “No shit. A Kentucky cabin with a covered porch. One bedroom, big bath, open kitchen and living area, and a mudroom at the back door. On forty acres and the lake. The house and buildings will be here next week.”

  Stunned, Stitch sat on the foundation and stared blankly at nothing. In a moment or two he shook his head and got back to his feet. He looked at Satin and Crockett for a beat, then turned away and walked down the drive toward the road. Crockett got the sketches out of the truck and spread them on the hood.

  About ten minutes later Stitch retuned. His eyes were red and he seemed smaller. “You dudes are too fuckin’ much, man,” he said, giving Satin a hug.

  “Where’s mine?” Crockett asked.

  “Aw, man,” Stitch said, and leaned into Crockett. When they separated, tears were back in his eyes. “Ivy said you cats would do somethin’ like this, man. Jesus. My own place. This is some heavy shit, ya know?”

  Satin took him by the arm and led him to the truck. “Here are the drawings,” she said, aiming him toward the hood.

  A succession “far-outs” and “cools” poured forth from the hippie for the next few moments as he scanned the literature. “I’m gonna have to, like, buy furniture an’ shit, huh?” Stitch said, tearing himself away from the sketches.

  Satin smiled. “Furniture would be nice,” she said. “I’ll help.”

  “No shit?”

  “Be glad to.”

  “That’s bitchin’, man. I never done nothin’ like that, ya know. Never really had to. I’d just scrounge shit.”

  “Not now.”

  “Wow. How much am I gonna owe you guys for all this?”

  “Why don’t we talk about that over some breakfast,” Crockett said.

  *****

  Two hours later, hashbrowns and ham and eggs disposed of, they sat at the kitchen counter. “We wanted to just give you the place,” Crockett said, “but that can be a hassle. So, we can hold a minimum interest, minimum payment mortgage for you, you can rent it from us, or we can give you a lease. I’m not sure about all that. I’ll have to talk to a lawyer.”

  “How ‘bout I just buy it, dude? How much?”

  “Ah, I hadn’t thought about it.”

  “Well, how much is all that shit costing you?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll have to add everything up.”

  “Bullshit, Crockett. You know. How much?”

  “All told, around a hundred thousand.”

  “Great! How much for the land?”

  “I paid less than a thousand bucks per acre.”

  “Okay. How’s a hundred and forty grand sound to ya?”

  “That’s a lot of money for you to come up with, Stitch.”

  “Fuck, man, you know how Ivy is. She handed me a fuckin’ boatload a cash, man. Boo-coo coinage, dude. Plus, Cabot enterprises is keepin’ me on as a employee for the rest a my, like, life. Not only that, they’re providin’ me with a helo, dude. Ivy thought I could earn some extra bucks flyin’ tourists over Smithville Lake an’ shit, or crop dustin’, or bein’ a air taxi. Got a MD 530F, man. Trick little scooter. Like the one Magnum PI flew around in. Ha! Five blade rotor under thirty feet, less than thirty-five feet long and just a little over eight feet high. Cruise at around one-fifty. Almost three-hundred mile range at load. Haul three passengers and their luggage an’ shit. Bright yellow with black trim. How’s a hundred and forty grand sound, man?”

  “Fine, Stitch, but will that leave you enough?”

  “Fuck. Where’d you get your dock, dude?”

  “Uh, I ordered it from the manufacturer.”

  “Great. I gotta get one, an’ a boat, too. I like this water shit. Plus, you know, a big fence.”

  “What big fence?”

  “The one to put around my place. Livin’ on a lake like this, man, you never know what kinda fucked-up neighbors you’re gonna have.”

  *****

  Early afternoon Satin and Stitch went shopping. Crockett took a nap, hosed off the truck, went inside to escape the heat, cleaned the kitty litter as Nudge supervised, sacked up some trash, looked over the information Clete had sent him, and made some chicken salad for sandwiches. Just as he was swabbing the countertop, he heard the driveway alarm sound. Stitch’s truck rolled up beside the house and Satin got out.

  “That damn thing is huge!” she said.

  Crockett nodded. “It’s a lot of truck.”

  “Probably ride a little better if it had a boulder in the bed.”

  “Where’s Stitch?”

  “He’ll be along in a while. I drove over from his place with some packages and stuff for the guest shack. We got him some more cowboy clothes and things.”

  “You left him at the other end of the lake?”

  “I got you a new hat,” Satin said. “It’s a straw ball cap with one of those hangy-down hanky things to shade your neck and ears. If you’re gonna be out on the water much, you’ll need it. You know how you burn.”

  Crockett grinned. “Gee, thanks, mom.”

  Satin shot him one of those girl looks that warn men to leave it alone.

  “I also got me a couple more girly western shirts with ruffles, a sweet little buckskin vest, and a ruffly cowgirl skirt.”

  “A skirt?”

  “Yep.”

  “Like for square dancing?”

  “No,” Satin snorted, “not for square dancing. I don’t wear petticoats. For two-stepping and line dancing. It’ll look cute with boots and my new vest.”

  “Oh, Lord.”

  “Now that Stitch is around and I’ll have somebody to two-step with now and then, I wanna look good.”

  “You do look good.”

  “Did you ever dance, Crockett?”

  “When I was a kid.”

  “I should teach you how to two-step.”

  “I’m missing a foot. Is there a one step?”

  “You get around okay. You could two-step.”

  “I could, huh?”

  “Sure. But you’d h
ave to wear boots. Could you do that?”

  “How ‘bout wingtips.”

  “Not if you’re gonna dance with me, cowboy.”

  “Do they make short ones?”

  “Sure. Even ones that kinda lace up.”

  “Do I get to wear chaps and spurs?”

  Satin shot him the look again.

  “I wouldn’t have to,” he said.

  “Jeans, boots, a nice shirt. Hat is optional.”

  “Maybe my new hanging hanky cap!”

  “That’d be cute.”

  “You really want me to do this, doncha?”

  “I’d like for us to do this, but if you’d rather not, I understand, honey.”

  “Oh, geeze.”

  “Help me get the stuff inside and let’s go sit on the dock and have a Guinness.”

  *****

  The temperature had dropped a bit by the time they’d walked to the dock. Crockett put down the small cooler and set out the lawn chairs. The sun was sinking behind the trees, and they were about halfway through their first Guiness, when Crockett noticed Stitch. He was just turning into their cove, about two hundred feet away, in a single man canoe with a double-bladed kayak paddle.

  “Look at that,” he said.

  Stitch glided up to them, beached the canoe beside Satin’s pedal-boat, walked up the dock, sat on the bow seat of the pontoon boat, and grinned.

  “Got any more Guinness?”

  “You got an Old Towne?” Crockett asked, reaching for the cooler.

  “Yeah! A single Discovery, dude. Trick little sled, man.”

  Crockett popped the cap and passed the Guinness. Stitch took a long slow hit, looked out over the lake, and sighed.

  “Nice to be home,” he said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  After Stitch had rented a car and returned to Chicago to pick up the helicopter and his tools, he and Satin went shopping several times for various furnishings and necessities to equip the new cabin. On the afternoon before the cabin and outbuildings were due to arrive, Satin and Crockett were in the kitchen having a late lunch prior to his leaving for work. She expressed the thought that Stitch was a bit of a minimalist.

  “Ya think?”

  “Dishes. He got four settings. I mentioned that eight was customary. He said that all he needed was a setting for him, one for me, one for you, and an extra in case he broke anything.”

  “Wise man.”

  “And the bed, At least I talked him into a queen size, but he only wanted one set of sheets, a spread, a blanket, two pillows, and two pillow cases. He said he’d make the bed up and just lay on top of everything in his sleeping bag, anyway. If he had company or something, he’d toss the bag under the bed, smooth out the sheets and spread, and be ready to go.”

  “He ain’t so dumb.”

  “He got the smallest washer and dryer unit I’ve ever seen. He said, except for his cowboy clothes and jackets and stuff, all he has is four of those blue chambray shirts, three pairs of jeans, and two dark blue turtlenecks for when the weather gets cold.”

  “Simple needs.”

  “He doesn’t wear underwear, and every month or so he just buys a big pack of cheap sweat socks.”

  “You seem agitated.”

  “He doesn’t even want a stove. He picked out a countertop microwave, a big countertop European-style toaster oven thing, and one of those flat range tops. That’s all. And furniture? Two single recliners, one double recliner, and four end tables.”

  “Did he, perhaps, acquire a television?” Crockett asked.

  “Oh, well…big as a billboard! Almost three thousand dollars, not counting the sound system and the DVD and Blu-ray stuff.”

  “Sounds like a man with his priorities in line to me.”

  “Well, I’m certainly not surprised,” Satin snorted, and stomped off.

  Marveling at how a woman could be pissed off at him because of another man’s choice of housewares, Crockett grabbed his keys and headed for the truck. He’d be safer at work.

  *****

  It was a slow night, and that pleased him. The opportunity to go home early was desirable because of the arrival of the cabin and such the next day. He was about ready to knock off at ten, when the radio crackled to life.

  “HQ, Two.”

  “Go ahead, HQ.”

  “Two, Buckles and Bows requests you give ‘em a walk through. 10-20?”

  “Two miles out and on the way.”

  “A table of guys giving everybody a hard time.”

  “Ten-four.”

  “HQ to Five.”

  “Go.”

  “Backup please.”

  “Ten minutes or so, HQ. Ten-four.”

  *****

  Two minutes later, Crockett parked in the club’s fire lane and walked inside. The place was about two-thirds full. Six cowboy wannabees sat at an eight-spot near the largest of the two bars on the left-hand side of the room. Phil stood over them, attempting to get the group’s total attention. Two other bouncers hovered in close proximity. Crockett took a seat in one of the open chairs, closest to the biggest mouth. The guy looked at him.

  “Who the fuck are you?” he asked, pushing his cowboy hat back on his head. Interested, his friends quieted a bit.

  “I’m just a fella who wants to go home,” Crockett said, hanging his badge on the outside of his pocket. “Unfortunately, this says I have to be here because you and your friends are misbehaving.”

  “You a policeman?”

  “Yeah. It’s my secret identity,” Crockett said, palming his whipstick beneath the table.

  “You come in here to throw us in jail, mister policeman?”

  “Naw. I just came in to ask you to settle down.”

  “And what if we don’t, mister policeman?”

  “Then you’ll have to leave. It’s really all up to you.”

  The guy peered at Crockett a little more intently. “You’re kinda old to threaten people, ain’t ya, mister policeman?”

  Crockett smiled. “You think I’m threatening you? No. I don’t make threats. If it comes to that, I make promises. And as far as my age is concerned, young people often confuse age and ability, son. Sometimes that is a mistake. You’ve already make mistakes tonight. Probably oughta stop.”

  “Goddammit, we just wanna have some fun.”

  “Hell, I know that. That’s why you’re here. But when you having fun makes things not fun for other people, then you’re screwin’ up.”

  “We just wanna drink and…have you seen the waitresses in here?”

  “Yes, I have.”

  “We were just talkin’ to the waitresses an’ stuff, an’ then that big guy over there come over an’ told us if we didn’t leave ‘em alone, he’d make us leave. Hell, they’re just waitresses.”

  “Oh, my,” Crocket said. “There ya go. That’s the kind of attitude that starts trouble. You can’t be here if you hassle these young women.”

  “There’s one now,” the guy said, focusing over Crockett’s shoulder.

  As the girl came walking past, the guy slipped his hand under her short skirt and groped her bottom. She squealed, turned, and slapped him on the side of the neck. He bolted to his feet in response and turned his back to Crockett. Crockett, already standing, grabbed the guy’s collar and slammed him backwards to the tabletop. The kid hit hard and bounced to the floor. The young man sitting to the guy’s left, started to assist his friend. Crockett employed his whipstick, catching number two on the outside of his right knee. Howling, that worthy also went to the floor, directly on top of his partner. The whipstick clattered to the table as Crockett’s Beretta appeared in his right hand, directed toward the remaining four.

  “Next?” he shouted. Halfway out of their chairs, the men froze. Phil and his companions surrounded them. “Charges, or you just want them out?” Crockett asked.

  “Up to you,” Phil said.

  Crockett holstered his pistol and picked up the whipstick. He compressed it and slipped it back in the belt ca
se. “You four shitheads,” he said, “get these two up and all of you get outside. I’m done being patient. One wrong word, one wrong move, and every damn one of you baby boys go to jail tonight. Do it.”

  As the group left the building, one still trying to get his diaphragm to function, and another limping, Charlie arrived in Hart 5. He joined the throng as they gathered on the sidewalk.

  “Here’s what’s going to happen,” Crockett said. “Deputy Rogers will fill out field contact cards on each of you. You will provide him with your names, addresses, phone numbers and driver’s license information. After he is done with you, you will leave this area. Am I clear?”

  A nod or two and a couple of “yessirs” emanated from the group.

  “Good. Now pay attention. The statue of the blindfolded lady holding the scales is not called Lady Law. She is Lady Justice. Justice has not been served this evening, gentlemen. You are getting off easy. Let me assure you that will not happen again. Before this night is over, I will know your names and addresses. You come into this county and behave yourselves, and you are more than welcome. You come back and screw up, and I promise you that you will receive justice. If you doubt that it shall be served, you ask Harpo and Chico over there if they wanna fuck with me again. Questions?”

  Head shakes.

  “Excellent. Deputy Rogers will now take the information we require, and you are free to be on your way. And you will be on your way. Have a good evening.”

  The two assistant bouncers stayed with Charlie and the group, and Phil followed Crockett back inside. At the bar, Crockett ordered a coke and two aspirins. The waitress who’d been grabbed stopped by.

  “I’m Nadine,” she said. “Thank you.”

  “Call me Crockett. You want to sign a complaint on that dummy? I’m a witness.”

  “That’s okay. Part of the job sometimes. Shelly said you were a good guy.”

  “Shelly doesn’t know me very well.”