Behind the Badge

by David R Lewis

  “Wow. Old home week. The gang will be reunited.”

  “You look great, kid,” Crockett went on, pushing her out to arm’s length and looking Danni over.

  She was wearing blue jeans and tenni-runners with a man-tailored broadcloth shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbow and tail out. Her brunette hair was cut short and sleek, her eyes sparkled, and she’d gained about ten pounds.

  Danni released him, turned a slow circle, and grinned.

  “Clean living,” she said. “Not bad for an ex-dancer and one time rent-a-chick, huh?”

  “Looks good on ya, sweetie.”

  “Better than short sundresses, five inch heels, and shiny panties?”

  “Yeah. Lots.”

  “Aw. No more arm charm?” She pouted, shifting her stance, and staring at him from under furrowed brows. “No more eye candy?”

  “Jesus,” Crockett said. “You still got it. Now, let it go.”

  “Okay. I was just messin’ with ya. Still,” she went on, “this could be our last chance before it’ll be incest. Mom here?”

  “You are such a shit!” Crockett laughed, and welcomed her for another hug.

  “I think this is the best,” Danni went on, clinging to him. “You and mom tyin’ the knot. I love you, Crockett.”

  “I love you, too, sweetie.”

  They disengaged then and things became a little awkward for a moment.

  “Satin’s out shopping for a dress,” Crockett said, breaking the silence.

  “Not white, I hope.” Danni grinned, looking around. “You added onto the place.”

  “Yeah. Full bath upstairs with a walk-in closet, a mudroom, and down here an office for your mother. Got a garage, a storage building, a small guest shack back up the drive. Working on a yard.”

  “How’s the pond?”

  “More of a lake now, actually.”

  “I wanna go see.”

  “Okay by me. I’ve gotta shower and get ready for work. Go ahead.”

  “Be back in a little bit,” she said, and started for the door. She stopped, returned, and hugged him again. Crockett chuckled as she and Dundee bounced outside and headed down the slope.

  “Son,” he said, “that is a helluva young woman.” Unable to get the sappy smile off his face, he plodded upstairs and started the shower.

  *****

  Crockett had just finished dressing and walking downstairs when Danni and Dundee arrived back at the house.

  “Look at you,” she said. “All official and shit. No gun?”

  “Two of them, actually,” Crockett replied. “Cleverly concealed from the prying eyes of passersby. Where’s your kid?”

  “Lucy’s with Aunt Velvet. She thought the trip might be too much for a little girl, with all the gathering of the gang and stuff. Probably right.”

  “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah. With what I saved while working at the café, plus that pile of money you gave me when you were my sugar daddy, I got my own place and paid my tuition. I’m in school from eight in the morning until one in the afternoon; and next month I start work at a vet’s office three hours a day.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Washing dogs. I’ll be working with a groomer. I give the hounds a bath and a dry before she goes to work on them. Minimum wage, on-the-job training, and all the excess hair I can eat. I’ll have dogpan hands!”

  “I’ve never seen you this happy.”

  “I know,” Danni said. “School’s easy, even if ya do have to do some pretty gross shit once in a while. Aunt Velvet’s lightened up a lot. Lucy starts pre-school this fall. A year from then, I’ll be a certified Veterinary Assistant.” She posed with her hands on her hips. “Ta-Da!”

  “Any men in your life?”

  “Just one,” Danni said. “You!” She launched at him again then, and Crockett let her in. “Hmmm. Lotsa bulges, Crockett. Any of ‘em I need to be concerned about?”

  Crockett chuckled and released her. “Not with me, you don’t,” he said.

  “I know it,” Danni replied. “Cool, huh?”

  “Way cool,” Crocket said.

  *****

  Danni asked Crockett to say hello to Dale for her and waved him on his way as he left for work. Once again, Crockett couldn’t get the sappy grin off his face.

  *****

  Smoot settled into the booth across from Crockett and eyeballed him. “I wasn’t sure you’d come in today,” he said.

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah. With the wedding so soon, and considering your age, I thought you might be resting up.”

  Crockett smiled. “Probably not a bad idea. Danni arrived this afternoon. Says hello.””

  “How’s she?”

  “Better than I’ve ever seen her.”

  “Not to seem too much like a letch,” Smoot said, “but that’d have to be real damn good.”

  “She shines, Dale. In school, got her own place, livin’ life.”

  “Now that’s fine. Considering the effect that girl had on the male of the species, she coulda gone a lot of ways but the right ones.”

  “I don’t believe I could ever have a better kid,” Crockett said.

  “You and Satin goin’ on a honeymoon?”

  “Shit. Little late for that, doncha think?”

  “Are ya?”

  “Hell, I don’t know. Up to her. I pretty much gave up control the day she moved in.”

  “Makes ya look better than if she just took it away from you. You are off duty from eight tonight until next Friday. Of course, if you’re around, I’d like you to be on call. But other than that, go away. Stock up on Viagra and hang out with your new bride.”

  Crocket smiled. “Damn nice of ya, Dale.”

  “Don’t get used to it. I’m having a moment of weakness.”

  *****

  That evening, after Crockett got home, the three of them sat around grinning at each other a lot. Danni spent her time on the couch with Satin, alternately petting Nudge and Dundee or leaning against her mom. She made at least a dozen forays across the room to hug Crockett. Several times Crockett felt tears behind his eyes.

  Sentimental old fool.

  *****

  At around eleven the next morning, a grey Dodge Charger rolled up the drive and delivered Stitch and Clete to the premises. Grins and hugs abounded and the group, save Stitch, went inside.

  “Where’s the hippie?” Clete asked.

  Crockett looked out the window. Stitch had the hood open on the Ram and was peering at the motor. He walked back out to the drive.

  “Fuckin’ far out!” Stitch beamed. “A K and N induction system, quad shocks, a lift, huge rubber! Man, somebody did a number on this sled, dude! Duals, too,” he went on, dropping to a pushup position and peering under the truck. “An’ them low restriction mufflers. Damn, Crockett! This fucker is righteous!”

  “The cop shop fixed it up for me.”

  “The cop shop?”

  “Yeah. I’m a cop, Stitch.”

  “I figured that when I looked inside this sumbitch. That’s why ol’ Clete sent ya all that shit, huh?”

  “That’s why.”

  “Yeah. Well, the way I see it, you been a cop mosta your life anyway, man. It just hadn’t been, like legal, for a long time. Congrats, dude.” Stitch looked over the cabin. “Got your crib all fixed up, too, huh?”

  “Yeah. More room, more storage space, garage and stuff. Even a guest house.”

  “What?”

  “That little building you passed on the way up the drive. It’s on the original mobile home slab where I kept the motorhome when I first got here. Heat and air, furnished, and a bathroom and shower.”

  “No shit?”

  “No shit. A basic low-budget motel room. A place for you to hang out when you need to get away from the world.”

  “Oh wow, man. That’s like, way cool a you an’ ol’ Satin, dude. Far fuckin’ out, ya know?”

  “Our pleasure.”

  “How’s the pond?”<
br />
  “It’s actually a lake, now.”

  “Heavy-duty, man. Fish in it?”

  “I start stocking it soon.”

  “Yeah. Bluegill, sunfish, and minnows, man. Bass in the spring after them other fuckers spawn. A few grass carp would be good. Them fuckers’ll get huge, but they won’t breed. White crappie’ll fuck it up unless ya got fifty acres or so. Black crappie are okay. Don’t put in no channel cats, man. They can breed in still water. Get too many of ‘em an’ they’ll screw up the bottom and mess up your water clarity, ya know?”

  Crockett grinned and shook his head. “Stitch,” he said, “you never cease to amaze me.”

  “Dig it. Freaky, huh?” Stitch replied, returning his grin. “I’m gonna drag my shit down to that little crib, man, then I’ll be up to the house. I ain’t seen Danni or Nudge in a long time, dude.”

  *****

  Lunch was a celebration of reunion. After the meal, Crockett found Clete on the deck, looking out over the slope. Through the trees, water twinkled in the distance. A light breeze and plenty of shade made the eighty-five degree temperature pleasant.

  “Beautiful place, Crockett,” Clete said. “Ya done good, pard.”

  “Thanks. It’s good to be home. But, as much as I hate to interrupt our reverie and change the subject, Texican, we’ve got an errand to run. You bring a suit?”

  “Two.”

  “Good. Dress in the one that looks most official, and carry a gun. I have a story to tell you, and I need for you to intimidate someone.”

  “Good you got help to call on.” Clete grinned. “You are getting’ a little old for that kinda shit.”

  *****

  “Well, it looks official,” Clete said, studying the fake warrant Satin had crafted. “Scares me, and I know it’s phony.”

  Crockett slid copies of the pictures of Shorty blowing up the mailbox across the snack bar. Clete looked at them for a moment.

  “Purty much irrefutable evidence as to the perpetrator a the crime, doncha see. Where is this shithead?”

  “Ten or twelve miles from here at that club I told you about.”

  “How bad you want this ol’ boy scared off?”

  “I want him off my back, Clete. Use your own judgment.”

  “From what you said, him an’ his brother are warts on the ass of the county.”

  “You got that right. His brother is scared of me anyway.”

  “Sap gloves can make a helluva impression. Sometimes even a dent. Let’s git on the road.”

  “I’ll take Satin’s jeep,” Crockett said. “You follow me. We’ll stop on Ninety-two and you’ll go in by yourself.”

  *****

  Thirty minutes later, Clete pulled the Charger into the parking area of the club. The building was completely sheathed. Service trucks were scattered here and there around the lot, and an immense sign over the main entrance read Buckles and Bows. He walked in through the propped open front door, turned to his right, and entered the main room. Paneling and paint was being applied over drywall, a stage was under construction, and electricians were up on scaffolds wiring the ceiling, twenty feet above the floor. A workman approached him.

  “Help ya?” he asked.

  Clete flashed his badge and ID. “I need to see a man named Calvin Cantral, please.”

  “Who?”

  “Calvin Cantral. Goes by the name of Shorty. Security for this place.”

  “Oh, him. He’s probably back in the office. Go through them doors over at the far end.”

  “Tell him I’m here, will you? I’d rather he came to me.”

  “You betcha,” the guy said, and scurried away.

  In just a moment, Shorty came striding out through the dust and debris, gun belt and hat in place.

  “What the hell’s going on?” he demanded.

  “Calvin Cantral?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Mister Cantral, my name is Clint Marsh,” Clete said, displaying his badge and ID. “I am an agent of your government’s Secret Service. In case that’s not clear to you, sir, I’m a Fed. A Federal cop. A Federal law enforcement officer. That means, I enforce Federal Law. You, sir, have broken Federal Law.”

  “What the fuck are you talkin’ about?”

  Cletus retrieved the photos from his pocket and handed them to Shorty. Shorty peered at them for a moment, and lost some of his ruddy complexion.

  “Aw, hell. I was just playin’ a joke. That warn’t nothin’ but a couple a M-80s.”

  “M-80’s are considered to be explosives, sir. I happen to know that you do not have a license to possess, manufacture, distribute, or employ the use of explosives. I am also aware that the property you destroyed was not yours. In destroying that property you committed several offenses, Mister Cantral. Even though that mailbox was purchased by Mister Crockett, once it is in position to receive mail, it is deemed to be in the service of the federal government. You destroyed federal property, sir. In destroying that property, you also interfered with the United States Postal Service pursuant to section thirty-eight, sub-section B, of the U.S. Postal Service code, which deals with their ability to perform the duties to which they are tasked by the federal government. In other words, there is now no mailbox in which they may deliver the mail. None of these aforementioned infractions involve any local charges, which may include, but are not limited to, criminal trespass to land, destruction of private property, invasion of private property, armed criminal action, or, if any mail is missing, burglary. Do you have any idea what the ramifications of any or all of these charges could mean to your freedom, sir?”

  Shorty was about two feet tall. “Uh…” he said.

  Cletus took out the warrant. “Here,” he said, “is a warrant for your arrest. It is, as you can see, a federal warrant. Should I serve this warrant, you would be compelled to come with me to a facility of my choosing, where you could be held as long as seventy-two hours before being processed or allowed to contact anyone. At that point, your processing, questioning, and arraignment procedures would begin. You would be brought before a federal judge and compelled to explain to him why you took it upon yourself to destroy federal property and interfere with the U.S. Postal Service. Bond in these matter is usually quite high, Mister Cantral. Your inevitable conviction could result in as many as eight to ten years incarceration in a federal prison. Do you think you’d like federal prison, sir?”

  “Nossir.”

  “You are a pissant, Mister Cantral. I don’t like to get my hands dirty with pissants. So here’s the deal. You will replace the mailbox and the post upon which it sat. The new mailbox will be the absolute best one you can possibly find. It will be an epic mailbox, sir. A mailbox with which even the most jaded mail carrier will be impressed. This mailbox will be installed on a stand that will last for the ages, Mister Cantral. I, personally, would advise stone or concrete that is pleasing to the eye and sets new levels of curb appeal. Should you fail to comply with my wishes, Mister Cantral, I will snatch your hayshaking ass up so fast, you will leave your boots behind. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yessir.”

  “Good,” Clete said, slipping the fake warrant back into his pocket. “You have one week. The warrant is good for seven years. It will remain on file. I suggest you get to work. We’ll be watching. ‘Bye now.”

  Shorty never moved as Clete walked away.

  *****

  Back in the car, Clete phoned Crockett.

  “It’s over,” he said.

  “How’d it go?”

  “Snot on a biscuit, son. Yer new mailbox’ll be installed within a week.”

  “My new mailbox?”

  “Yessir. It’ll be a beaut. What a dumbass.”

  *****

  Clete’s pocket recorder was a source of great interest back at the house. A good time was had by all.

  CHAPTER NINE

  That evening was true pleasure. Everyone laughed and joked as Crockett, Clete, and Stitch told lies about one another. Stitch complained that it w
as a damn shame the only women at Crockett’s bachelor party were the bride-to-be and her kid. Tacos and related munchies were grazed on during the course of the festivities and called for the consumption of unwise amounts of both tequila and mescal. Danni gave up first, vacating the area a little after midnight and drifting out into the dark, wobbling her way to the guesthouse. Clete was next, making it, unaided, to the spare bedroom. Owl-like, Stitch stared at the wall for a while. Satin noticed his condition and spoke up.

  “Why don’t you go to bed?” she asked.

  “Fuck, man,” Stitch said. “I dig your kid, ya know? But that chick shouldn’t be allowed around people after she drinks tequila. She snores so fuckin’ loud, California evacuates the fault line. Brutal, man. Mind if I just, like, flake out on the couch?”

  “Whatever makes you happy,” Satin replied, getting gingerly to her feet and stiff-legging it to the stairs. “The next time Crockett touches down, tell him I crashed.”

  Crockett never did touch down. The morning sun thundering through the windows found him snoring in his recliner, Stitch drooling on the couch, and Cletus sitting at the kitchen snack bar, wincing at the gurgles from the coffee maker. Nudge, reclining on the counter, eyeballed him from two feet away. Clete looked at the cat.

  “What?” he asked. “For chrissakes, what?”

  Satin, severely rumpled, eased into the room, her head balanced tentatively on her neck. Her eyes swept over Clete.

  “You look awful,” she croaked.

  “Check a mirror, honey. Coffee in about two minutes, I hope.”

  Carefully Satin climbed up on the stool next to him and leaned into Clete’s shoulder. He put his arm around her and held on. They sat, each supporting the other, sharing the type of affection that few ex-lovers can produce until the door crashed open and Danni, bright and chipper, came surging into the room.