"Fuck you."
"His daughter briefly became a poster girl for the gun control movement. She also had a genius level IQ, 158. Congratulations Ms. Chegoffgan. That's higher than mine. Her grandparents, Mr. Chegoffgan's friends, and a local newspaper got up a collection for her education. Even though it was before Go Fund Me and Kickstarter, there was enough publicity around the unfortunate little accident to make it work, and she wound up going to the Sisters of The Assumption Preparatory Academy in Morristown, New Jersey, one of the finest Catholic high schools anywhere in the United States. For six years she not only got a good education, she had her own personal psychotherapist, Sister Mary Elizabeth McCarthy, an MSW and a licensed psychiatric nurse."
Cathy Chegoffgan smiled in spite of herself.
"I liked Sister Mary Elizabeth."
“I'm surprised you would say that," Muffley said, "because you insisted on humiliating her. You seemed to resent her tentative diagnosis of high functioning autism."
"That diagnosis was bullshit, and it wasn't hers. It was just an excuse to kick me out of school."
"You were expelled for theft. It seems you learned all the wrong lessons. Instead of applying yourself to your studies, you resented your wealthy classmates. You gave way to the green eyed monster. You developed an obsession for material possessions, clothes, expensive camera equipment, jewelry, hoping, I suppose, that if you owned what those other girls owned, you'd be their equal. You started out by masterminding the heist of an entire shipment of ecclesiastical garments."
"That was a joke."
"And it was dismissed as a joke. But you also stole a diamond and gold broach from your roommate's mother, and even that was hushed up. You did no jail time, even though it was worth in excess of 10,000 dollars."
“What kind of a rich fool wears something that expensive? Fuck that stupid bitch. She lost it, then blamed it on me."
"You were transferred to Winterborn County Regional High School, the same school where your father would have been an English teacher, had it not been for his unfortunate little accident," Muffley said after taking a sip of coffee and eating part of a donut, "where your self-destructive and criminal behavior only continued. By the time you got into your senior year of high school, you were, shall we say, a hardened criminal. You were arrested just before your 18th birthday for grand larceny?"
"No."
"To be more specific, you were charged with receiving stolen property."
"My boyfriend gave me a present. It wasn't that much property, and I didn't know it was stolen."
"And you were charged with conspiracy to commit grand larceny," Muffley said.
"Conspiracy is what they charge you with when they don't have anything else, isn't it?"
"Conspiracy to commit grand larceny actually refers to how you acted as a lookout for a professional gang of criminals while they burglarized McMansions in New Jersey, where your innocent, youthful appearance came in handy. When you got caught, you could always cry your way out of it. But innocent you were not. Once, you actually climbed up through a second floor window, disabled the alarm system, and unlocked the front door, opening the way for the theft of over 37,000 dollars-worth of personal property. By the time you turned 17, you already had your own professional, criminal nickname, Cathy the Squirrel. That was very impressive. Usually you have to wait until you’re further on in your career."
“Can you get to the point? I'm meeting someone this afternoon."
"Because of your youth and inexperience, you were given a plea bargain where you would serve six months in a juvenile facility to be followed by 2 and a half years of probation and community service, after which all charges would be expunged from your permanent record on your 21st birthday, provided you committed no further crimes."
"Yes. And today is my 21st birthday."
"Three months ago, the terms of your community service were changed. You started out serving in an unpaid apprenticeship in waste management for the Northeast Youth Protection Services Corporation at the Winterborn II cleanup site. But there was that old genius level IQ again. What a shame to waste it picking up trash. You were transferred to the intelligence division of the Northwest Mid Atlantic Fusion Center, and assigned to monitor the United Coalition Against Xenophobia encampment until it was either dismantled or until your 21st birthday and the end of your probation, whichever came first."
"She continued to report to me," Lenny said.
"And she continued to report to her probation officer Leonard Seth Epstein."
"And she no longer reports to Lenny or anybody else," Cathy Chegoffgan said, "because her probation is now over."
Muffley cleared his throat. He bent over and took a bite of the second donut. He took a sip of his coffee.
"Your probation is not over," he said. "Your case has been reopened."
She leaned over, snatched the donut out of his hand, and put it on the table.
"What? You're going back on the deal?"
"You went back on the deal."
"What did I do?"
"You were arrested yesterday morning on charges of interfering with government operation and two counts of resisting arrest."
"You're canceling the deal we made three years ago for that?"
"You canceled the deal yourself because you decided to put an important intelligence gathering operation at risk."
"They gave me a day's fucking community service. I pled guilty. Ask Lenny. He's right here. He said it wouldn't affect the end of my probation."
“Leonard Epstein is a probation officer, not a judge," Muffley said. "You should have asked for a lawyer."
There was a knock on the door.
"Would you get that Leonard? That should be Steve Quinn."
"Steve Quinn?"
"Deputy Inspector Steven Quinn. He's big good looking red headed guy. I believe you two have already met."
Lenny got up and walked over to the door. Cathy Chegoffgan stared at Peter Muffley. Muffley looked back at her and smiled.
"Of course, reopening the burglary charges need not go any further than it already has."
He leaned forward.
"Do you really want to spend the next ten years of your life in a state prison and then come out at the age of 30 or so with two felonies on your permanent record and no employment history?"
Lenny brought Steve Quinn into the apartment and invited him to sit down next to Peter Muffley. Cathy Chegoffgan said nothing, but forced herself to look up. She recognized him as the red headed detective who had ordered her arrest the day before."
“Jesus Christ," she said. "What an idiot I am."
Muffley smiled.
"What exactly do you want from me?" she said.
"I want to lock you up for the rest of your life," Steve Quinn said, glaring at her, a curtain of red drawn over his colorless white cheeks as his muscles tensed up and his blue eyes appeared ready to pop out of their sockets. "I want to get a dangerous menace like you off the streets."
She laughed contemptuously.
"Look at me," she said, looking him over as if to emphasize the differences in their appearance. "Do I look like a menace to you?"
"You sold drugs to kids."
"I gave, gave not sold a bag of pot to my 16 year old boyfriend when I was 17."
"Now you go in and out of The Barrio. You have no visible means of support. You've given us absolutely nothing we can use over the course of the 3 months we've been employing you to gather intelligence. Are you running drugs for MS-13?"
She laughed so scornfully it seemed to expel all the fear out of her body.
"Idiot. I'm 2 months behind on my rent. They're about to kick me out."
"Oh that's no longer a problem," Muffley said. "You're not only up to date, you're paid up through November."
"Don't question the motives behind it," Lenny said. "It was a perfectly good faith gesture."
Cathy Chegoffgan got up, walked into the kitchen, and came out with the envelope she had put up on the
refrigerator with a pair of magnets. She ripped it open as she walked along and spilled the contents on the table when she sat back down. Lenny, Steven Quinn, and Muffley watched her as she read the letter and looked at the canceled check.
"With a canceled check tracing me back to the mayor's office," she said.
"To the Northwest Mid Atlantic Fusion Center," Muffley said, "but I'm very impressed at how quickly you recognized the implications of my little gesture for your, shall we say, safety."
"Oh I bet your friends in MS-13 will be thrilled to know you're a little snitch," Steven Quinn said.
"There's no MS-13 in Reagan Plaza. Nobody's selling drugs. Everything I've told you is the truth."
"If she really were mixed up with MS-13 and something really did happen to her," Muffley said, looking over at Cathy Chegoffgan then Steve Quinn, "wouldn't she make a sympathetic little victim for the media?"
"Oh Jesus Christ Peter," Lenny said. "Stop it."
"Stop what? I'm only joking. If she really doesn't have any friends at MS-13 she's got nothing to worry about."
"I don't appreciate your jokes," Lenny said. "Cathy's been under my care for the past three years."
"Just shut the fuck up Lenny," she said. "You're not fooling anybody. You're the biggest fucking traitor of them all. You rat."
She turned to Peter Muffley.
"You can all stop the act. You set me up with that arrest yesterday so you can blackmail into doing something. Just tell me what it is and stop the act. I get it."
“All we want is for you to continue doing what you're doing now," Muffley said. "Just keep reporting on The Barrio until November."
"Keep reporting on it," Steven Quinn said, "but stop fucking lying."
"If I had to lie, I wouldn't be able to do your spying for you. The only reason I've lasted this long is because people aren't doing anything wrong, so reporting on them is only clearing them. I've been telling you the truth."
"My God you're naive," Quinn said.
"And yet I'm running drugs for MS-13. How naive can I be?"
"Is that a confession?"
"Sarcasm never works when talking on the Internet or to the police," Muffley said, finishing off the last piece of the last donut, and wiping his fingers off with a napkin. "Your words are always interpreted literally."
He produced a large envelope and put it down on the table.
"Open it up. You'll recognize it."
She opened up the envelope. It contained a photo, one of her own.
"Dan Sedgwick," Muffley said. "I have no doubt you recognize who he is."
"I'm sure you've already read what I've written about Dan Sedgwick," she said. "He's a better man than you."
“I'm sure you believe that," Muffley said, pulling an envelope out of his pocket marked 'to Dan Sedgwick.' It seems you got a little too attached to him. You let your feelings get in the way. So you wrote this."
“You went through my backpack.”
"No. You dropped it on the grass at Reagan Plaza after you broke Officer Scarzinski's finger."
"I didn't break Officer Scar Whoever the Fuck's finger and you're a liar. You went through my backpack. That's illegal."
Muffley just laughed.
"And I quote," he said. "Dan. I'm an evil, devious, calculating little bitch. If I end up floating face down in the Scahentoarrhonon River, let's just say it's something I deserve. I've been spying on you for the police. I don't know why I agreed to do it. Yes, they coerced me into it. They threatened to revoke my probation, but I guess I also convinced myself that since you had nothing to hide, I was only clearing your name. I thought I was doing you and David a favor by occupying the same space that someone else could have occupied, someone who would have made shit up instead of telling the truth."
"I was telling the truth," she said. "Dan Sedgwick is the most innocent man on the planet.”
"Then you have nothing to worry about," Muffley said. "Good. Just keep watching him."
"That's it?”
"That's it," Muffley said. "All we want you to do is what you've been doing all summer.”"
Then why scare the hell out of me for nothing?"
Muffley put his finger on Sedgwick's picture.
"We would like you to be a little more proactive. More specifically, we want his social security number, and date of birth, mother's maiden name, anything else you can get on him."
"Dan's no fool. He's not going to give me that information."
"Then I guess you're fucked," Steven Quinn said. "I told you she was a useless, lying little cunt," he added to Muffley. "She's probably going to call him up and warn him as soon as we leave. She's already tried once."
"Detective Quinn has no need to worry," Peter Muffley said. "As he knows, we already have a man inside The Barrio, who will be watching you as well as everybody else."
"Then why do you even need me?"
"He's not an innocent little girl who can easily gain someone's trust," Muffley said, "but he is the kind of person who can keep an eye on someone like you, and who can always arrange a little accident as easily as MS-13 can arrange a little accident, if you catch my drift. He probably won't, but if you do anything to alert Mr. Sedgwick to our little operation, he will almost certainly report back to us."
"Why don't you just arrest Dan like you arrested me," she said. "Get his ID. You took mine."
"Mr. Sedgwick is constantly surrounded by bodyguards," Muffley said. "By the time we arrest them all, he'll have found a place to hide. There's no guarantee he even carries his identification with him anyway."
"Why do you want that information?"
"That's none of your fucking business," Quinn said.
"What if I can't get it?"
"Then you go to jail," Muffley said.
He got up from his chair. Lenny and Steve Quinn got up in turn.
"That's it?"
They walked over to the door. Steve Quinn and Lenny walked out into the hall without saying anything. Muffley lingered inside the apartment.
"That's it for now," he said. "On Monday, we come to arrest you. If you have the information we want, we just take what you have, and give you a new assignment. If you don't, we'll take you away in handcuffs. Think about what we've told you. You're actually very good at this. I might even have you as a colleague someday."
Muffley followed his two companions out into the hallway, and closed the door.
"Not a fucking chance," she said, locking the door behind him, "creep."
Cathy Chegoffgan went over to the table, picked up the letter from the real estate company, walked back to the kitchen, and stuck it back up on the refrigerator. She walked over to the closet to get her coat, still intending to go up to East Poison Springs to visit John Avellanos. She heard a loud, violent banging. She stormed over to the door, this time more angry than afraid, opened the deadbolt, and violently flung it open.
"Fuck you Muffley," she shouted. "Fuck you."
But it wasn't Muffley. It was Steve Quinn. All at once he rushed her. He pushed her across the room, slammed her head against the wall, and choked her with his right hand. She struggled against him, but he was built like a college fullback. With his thick legs and massive hips, he was almost impossible to knock off balance.
"Are you scared?" he said, releasing her just enough to give her an opportunity to nod her head. "Are you scared?"
When she didn't react, he put his other hand on her neck, laughing contemptuously as she kicked her legs up to try to free herself.
"Are you scared now?"
She nodded her head to indicate that yes, she was indeed frightened, and he let her go. As Steven Quinn walked, or, rather, swaggered over to her gallery of photographs, she took a deep gulp of air, almost as if she were planning to dive into the water and hold her breath. She walked over to the metal table near the kitchen, looked up to make sure Steven Quinn was not watching her, and still taking in deep gulps of air, reached underneath the metal table, and snapped off a very sharp, britt
le piece of tubing that had been weakened by rust. She ran her finger along the jagged edge, and put it in her pocket. She came up behind Steve Quinn.
"Get out of her you sick fucking bastard," she said.
He just laughed as he looked at the wall full of photographs.
"Call a cop," he said.
Cathy Chegoffgan tightened her grip on the razor sharp hunk of metal in her pocket. She looked up at a bulging vein behind Steve Quinn's ear that seemed to throb with his heartbeat, getting bigger and redder with every breath. But he did not seem ready to make another move to assault her, so she took her hand out of her pocket, and made a deliberate effort to calm herself down.
"What do you want?"
Quinn put his finger up on the bare-chested photo of Dan Sedgwick in the pump house.
"Here's our man right here. So this is your angle eh, beefcake shots of vets. Are you going make a calendar or something?"
"Maybe it's none of your business?"
"He's a little old for you, don't you think?" Quinn said, moving over to the two photos of John Avellanos. "Now this young man looks more your own age, one photo with long hair, one photo looking like he just walked out of an Abercrombie and Fitch Catalog. What's his name?"
"Him? I don't know."
"You took two photos of him on two separate days and you don't know his name? You're such a lying little cunt."
"He's just some guy who hangs out in the park."
"I don't believe you," Quinn said, going back to the photo of Dan Sedgwick. "But let's get back to our friend here."
"You want his social security number, his date of birth, and his mother's maiden name. I heard it the first time."
"You're going to do more than that," Quinn said, walking across the room. "I heard your mother has a little prescription drug habit."
He reached into his coat pocket, took out a bottle of pills, and put it on the table.
"I heard she's fond of Oxycontin. I heard you had a little problem with Valium a few years ago too."
"So you're spying on my mother now?"
"You're spying on your mother. Your probation officer's not your shrink."
"Fucking Lenny, fucking little traitor."
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