"Another threat, Al?"
"Just information, pal."
"Thanks for the heads-up. Now go do your time and try not to get short-stroked in the prison shower."
They took him away.
Horace Velario was off duty, taking some sick days. I heard later that after he was arrested, he cried in the ear when they were taking him over to the federal building on Wilshire.
Talbot Jones got busted at home. Same with Carlos Real.
Mayor Bratano was hooked up in his plaque-filled office at Haven Park City Hall a little before five the same night. The turquoise Cadillac was in his special parking space under a custom car cover. The sign at his parking place said HIS HONOR THE MAYOR.
I was standing in the hall with Alexa as he was brought out of his office in handcuffs. He was in the middle of an indignant rant as he was led past.
"Conspiracy to commit murder?" he said. "And just who's going to testify to that?"
"Me," I said. He stopped and turned back, seeing me now for the first time.
A lot of things played across his face. Anger, betrayal, and finally, despair.
The first big defection was at 6:16 that same evening. Talbot Jones's lawyer asked for a meeting with the DA. Jones copped a plea and turned state's evidence. That started the ball rolling. A deal-making free-for-all followed, with the main players in the Haven Park corruption scandal getting hung out to dry.
I wasn't around to witness it. My mouth was killing me. Chief Filosiani had cashed in a favor with a top Beverly Hills oral surgeon and in an hour I was in the dentists chair getting a set of beautiful new teeth.
Seven pain-filled hours later I walked out of the office with a numb jaw and a new set of plastic temporaries. Great from a distance, but I had strict instructions not to eat corn on the cob, peanuts, or any hard candy until my new porcelain caps were manufactured and installed.
I got home at eleven and Alexa and I were again back in our lawn chairs watching the still waters of the Venice canals. Franco wound incessantly back and forth around our legs. Cat love. He was glad that things were finally back to normal.
The numbness was beginning to wear off, and my mouth felt different with each passing hour. The teeth seemed somehow too big, like they belonged to someone else. They looked great, but when I spoke I could hear a slight lisp that I had to work hard to control.
"We really lucked out on this, babe," Alexa said, holding unhand.
"Luck has nossing to do wif it. I'm a trained proseshinal," I lisped.
She laughed and squeezed my hand.
It ended up pretty much the way it had begun, with Alexa and me in our queen-sized bed making love.
Most people never find happiness. You're lucky if you get close-get a glimpse. As I held Alexa, with Franco fussing at the foot of our bed looking for a place to lie down, I knew this was more than just a homecoming. This was redemption.
Tomorrow I would go back to work. Tomorrow I would listen to my friends and colleagues telling stories about how bad they'd felt when I'd been fired. I'd tell some stories of my own. The orange grove, the truck ride to Calexico and the trip through that tunnel. The shoot-out in the desert. Cops love war stories, and I had a slew of great new ones.
Tomorrow I'd be back on the job where I belonged.
But tonight, right now, in my wife's arms, I had peace. And with it, finally, came true happiness.
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On The Grind ss-8 Page 21
