Cop Tales an Anthology for a Cause

by T. R. Cupak

  “I already spend enough money here,” I remind him. “We just had a company order from you two days ago.”

  “Hey,” Charlie huffs, raising his hands up in surrender. “If you don’t want my help…fine. It’s not like I can’t do a little introduction or anything.”

  “I’m fine,” I lie.

  “How do you know Officer McCullin, anyway?” he inquires.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I reply.

  “Sure it does,” Charlie counters. “If you’ve met, but she doesn’t remember, that works to your benefit when I officially introduce the two of you.”

  “I can talk to her on my own,” I quip.

  “Yeah,” he scoffs. “You did so well with that just a few minutes ago.”

  “How do you….”

  Charlie lifts his hand, causing me to stop mid-question. “Think about it,” he offers. “I know a few different ways to get a girl’s attention…especially one whose attention is in all directions due to her job. I dated a female cop once…she had a desk job back then, but they think differently than most women. I could coach you.”

  I regard Charlie for a moment. “Like you’d let me coach you into better shape?” I pry.

  “I’ve already landed myself a woman,” Charlie chuckles. “I don’t need the help.”

  “No, but I’m sure she wants you to be healthy and alive for many more years right?” I probe. “That potbelly is slowing you down, my friend. You get rid of it and your sex life will be even better.”

  “My relationship is not the one in question,” Charlie claims.

  “You sure about that?” I tease, pointing to his stomach. “My offer still stands and I’m not looking for anything in return other than to see Marge happier.”

  “No…my offer still stands…and I’m not looking for anything in return other than you not only getting laid, but seeing Officer McCullin with one of the few good guys who’s single and still left in New York,” Charlie pushes back.

  I mull over our exchange. “I’ll consider it…if you will.”

  Charlie smirks and sticks out his hand. “Done.”

  I take a hold of his proffered limb. “Done.”

  Chapter Three

  Officer Saige McCullin

  “Crystal!” I yell from the kitchen for the second time.

  Again, there’s no response.

  I take five large steps toward the doorway, hanging my head just beyond it. “Crystal!”

  “What?” she faintly replies from upstairs.

  “Get your ass down here,” I retort.

  “You said ass,” Millie, my five-year-old niece, giggles.

  “Stop cursing,” Crystal returns.

  “I can’t be late,” I direct.

  “Then, go,” she offers.

  “And, leave your daughter alone in the kitchen while the stove runs?” I quip. “That’s worse than me swearin’ that you’re a pain in my ass.”

  “Mommy said ass is a donkey,” Millie states as she plays with her pony at the kitchen island. “Mommy isn’t a donkey. She’s a mommy.”

  “Sometimes, people can be donkeys too,” I declare.

  “Don’t start, Saige,” Crystal warns, strolling into the kitchen.

  “Just like your daddy,” I add with a smirk. “Isn’t that right, Mommy?”

  “This is the only time Aunt Saige has ever used the term ass correctly…when she’s talking about your daddy,” Crystal affirms.

  “You really want her to repeat that to him?” I question.

  Crystal shrugs. “Why not? He was boinking a donkey from work, which makes him a donkey as well. He hasn’t been around for months, probably because he’s yet to pay child support.”

  “What’s boinking?” Millie inquires.

  I consider answering my niece but think better of it. Crystal’s right. Millie’s father is much more of an ass, aka donkey, than my sister, but siblings are supposed to be a pain in the ass—on occasion.

  “You two behave while I’m gone,” I direct.

  “Aren’t we?” Crystal replies with a grin as she bumps my hip with hers.

  I stare at her blankly. “No.”

  “You’re no fun,” Crystal whines. “You used to be fun. You’re not fun anymore.”

  “I’m about to go to work,” I remind her. “I told you that I need to be in a different headspace before I go.”

  “And stop bad guys and shoot people,” Millie cheers.

  “I don’t shoot people,” I correct.

  “Then, why do you have a gun?” Millie searches.

  “For protection,” I inform her. “But, I haven’t had to use it to shoot someone.”

  “Really?” Millie inquires.

  “Good cops don’t need a gun to resolve an issue,” I state.

  “Then, why do you have it?” Millie presses innocently.

  I shift closer to her and lean down to her eye level. “Why do we lock the doors in this house?”

  “To stop all the shadow monsters from sneaking into the house to eat our socks,” Millie answers.

  As I said, Millie is five. She’s too young to understand how the world works, but it doesn’t hurt to explain things a little differently so she’ll understand enough and feel safe at the same time.

  “That’s right,” I confirm, kissing her on the head. “Make sure mommy stays out of trouble.”

  “And, doesn’t turn into a donkey?” Millie checks.

  I smile and nod.

  “Ten-four,” Millie says with a salute.

  “That’s my niece,” I praise. “The best and smartest niece in the whole world.”

  “I really wish you’d stop turning my kid against me,” Crystal states with a hint of drama.

  I offer an unimpressed expression. “You do that all on your own, sis.”

  “Watch out for the crazies,” Crystal encourages.

  “Unfortunately, my job is to find them,” I huff.

  “Hey, I’m sure our crazy here is better than the California crazy,” Crystal jokes.

  My lips purse and my head shakes. “Crazy is crazy.”

  A minute later, I’m in sliding into the cruiser with Alex. He arrived right as I was opening the front door to my sister’s apartment building.

  “Car 169 to dispatch,” Alex calls on the radio.

  “Go ahead, Car 169,” dispatch returns.

  “Car 169, ready to go. PC Williams and PC McCullin on duty,” Alex confirms.

  “Received, 169. Looking quiet tonight. Let’s hope it stays that way,” dispatch replies.

  “Got it. Thanks. Over.” Alex replaces the microphone and turns to me. “What’s up, doc?”

  I lift a brow in reply, unamused by his Bugs Bunny impression.

  “Too much?” he laughs.

  “No,” I return. “Just…really bad.”

  “Whatever, Hollywood,” Alex jabs.

  I let out a breath as I shift my gaze out the window.

  “You need to develop a thicker skin,” Alex claims. “That’s how they’ll stop calling you that as much.”

  “Funny,” I snort. “I put up with you every day, don’t I?”

  Alex laughs. “The next few days are going to be crazy, McCullin,” he informs me. “A lot is happening this week with the Thanksgiving Day Parade…not to mention Black Friday.”

  “I’ve dealt with Black Friday in California,” I remind him.

  Alex chuckles. “It’s not the same,” he claims. “It’s vicious here. People become animals.”

  “We are animals,” I counter. “All humans are.”

  “You know what I mean,” he returns.

  I shrug as he pulls out into the street.

  “How’s the family?” Alex checks.

  “Good,” I return.

  “Crystal seeing anyone?” he pries.

  “You’re married,” I remind him.

  “I’m not looking for me.”

  “Who you looking for?” I push. “You better not say Baxter.”

  Alex laughs.
“No. I was thinking Ward.”

  I consider the idea for a brief moment. “It wouldn’t work.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I know my sister,” I warn.

  “She’s cool,” Alex counters.

  I don’t comment, knowing he’ll eventually drop the subject.

  For the first four hours, the night is fairly quiet. We patrol the streets, keeping our eyes and ears open, ready for anything. Later in the night when we stop for a drink, my legs are stiff from sitting so long and become stiffer the instant the door opens and the bitter, cold air hits them. Thermals don’t really make a difference.

  “Fuck,” I groan.

  “You’re fine,” Alex laughs.

  “Still fucking cold,” I whine.

  “Get us something hot,” he says, handing me a ten dollar bill. “I’ll stay by the car just in case something comes in.”

  “Thanks,” I reply happily.

  In less than two minutes, I’m walking out of the coffee shop with a hot, black coffee for Alex and a hot chocolate for myself. I don’t know how I became a non-coffee drinker since my entire family drinks it, but I could never stand the taste.

  “We got a 10-50 a few blocks away,” Alex informs me with the window down. “Get in.”

  “Yay,” I cheer sarcastically. “I love disorderly delinquents.” I pretend to rush into the car.

  “Hey,” Alex quips. “Disorderly people are people too.”

  My blank expression doesn’t falter.

  “Damn,” he huffs after a few seconds. “I thought I had you.”

  “Good try,” I encourage.

  “Really?” he checks, pulling away from the curb.

  “No.”

  “Fuck you,” Alex whines.

  “You wish,” I laugh, taking a sip of my drink.

  His eyes scan me. “If I wasn’t married….”

  “I still wouldn’t give you the time of day,” I snort.

  “Even if we didn’t have the same job?” he pries ruefully.

  “Damn straight,” I goad.

  “You’s one of those lessies, ain’t you?” Alex pushes.

  “Just because you haven’t seen me show any interest in anyone in the department, you automatically assume I’m a lesbian?”

  “That, and you’re from California. It’s like one in five of you are lesbians, right?” he checks.

  “First of all,” I warn. “That’s sexual harassment in every way. Second, it’s none of your fucking business. And third, just because a woman isn’t interested in fucking someone in the workplace doesn’t automatically make her a lessie.”

  “So, what does it for you then?” Alex pushes.

  “Drive,” I direct, uninterested in having this conversation.

  Ten minutes later, thanks to the siren, we pull up to the street corner where dispatch informed Alex of the incident in progress. It takes Alex and me a second to assess the situation before getting out of the car.

  “What’s going on?” Alex inquires as we approach two men dressed as Santa.

  “He’s in my spot,” one Santa says with slurred words.

  “I’m not in his spot,” the coherent Santa returns. “That’s his spot.” He gestures to the other side of the street where another Salvation Army sign stands by itself.

  “Yes, you are,” drunk Santa returns, taking a step closer.

  “Easy, Santa,” Alex cautions, stepping between the men. “I’m sure we can….” Alex sniffs the air. “Have you been drinking?”

  “No,” says drunk Santa.

  “I can smell it over here,” I inform Alex.

  “I’ve got a nightstick,” drunk Santa announces as parents with children pass by. “Let me take a seat and then you can hop on.”

  Alex fights to keep a straight face.

  “I’ve got a better place for you to sit,” I offer, moving toward drunk Santa who’s practically tripping over his own fee to sit down on the steps to the department store.

  “Yay!” he cheers. “Where?” Drunk Santa stumbles to his feet.

  “This way,” I offer with a smile.

  “Have you been a good girl or a naughty girl?” he questions seductively.

  “It depends on the time of day, Santa,” I return slyly. “But, I thought we could get a little naughty.”

  “McCullin?” Alex questions.

  “Right over here,” I say, taking a hold of drunk Santa’s wrist.

  “Getting kinky already?” drunk Santa asks excitedly as I get one cuff locked. “Sure.”

  Alex shifts to open the door to the cruiser as I read Santa his rights and get his arms secured behind his back. Santa puts up a little fight when he realizes what’s happening. It takes all of two seconds for him to fall across the back seat. With the door closed, Alex jogs across the street and grabs drunk Santa’s sign and bucket as I get into my seat.

  “I’m not into men,” drunk Santa claims.

  I laugh.

  “What’s so funny?” Alex asks once he finally returns behind the wheel.

  “I think Santa thinks we’re having a threesome,” I goad.

  Alex looks over his shoulder for a second. “Call it in, McCullin.”

  “Aww,” I gush.

  “What?”

  “You called me McCullin,” I declare.

  Alex is quiet for a few seconds. “How you handled him was good.”

  “Am I getting praise?” I quip.

  “Don’t let it go to your head,” Alex warns.

  “Too late,” I tease.

  “I want head,” Santa announces. “But, I don’t want it from you. I want it from her.”

  “I’ll put you back there with him if you keep it up,” Alex warns.

  “Yes,” Santa cheers. “I’m getting head!”

  Chapter Four

  Phineas Wilder

  The plan is set. Tonight, I’ll be able to talk with Officer Saige McCullin without any distractions. Is the meeting staged? Yes, but you can’t blame me. I’ve seen her at Charlie’s Deli five times over the past week since Charlie told me she’s in there regularly, but I’ve been too scared to approach her.

  The first time she was back at the deli, Charlie tried to call me over when she was ordering, but I ran into the bathroom. The following three times I observed her from the sidewalk—two of them were from across the street. The fifth time I managed to be standing right next to the newsstand which was only fifteen feet away from the door.

  On my sixth attempt, I didn’t realize until Officer McCullin and her partner were asking weird questions to Charlie that Charlie had set me up. Something was said about someone trying to rob him, which could never happen in that place. Once you’re in, it’ll take you at least ten minutes to get out the door. Then, Charlie confessed that he wasn’t being robbed and wanted them to come to the deli because he wanted Officer McCullin to meet someone. Her partner laughed and I darted past them in a hurry.

  Tonight, there’s no one but me in my apartment, forcing me to have to talk to Saige. I’ve got the lights low with mostly Christmas lights strung tastefully. Sandra, my assistant, came over earlier to assist with the mood lighting, as she called it. Even with my assistant’s keen tech skills, she couldn’t find Officer McCullin on social media. Other than knowing that Saige is an officer for NYPD, I’ve got nothing else to work with on what she likes. I don’t know what foods she eats or smells she likes, so I hope that the vanilla scented candle Sandra said most women like works.

  As I triple check that everything is in order for the night, a knock is heard from my door just as expected.

  “Hello,” I greet cheerfully. My disappointment surfaces instantly when I see two male cops standing before me.

  “Are you the owner of this residence?” the taller officer inquires.

  “Yes,” I confirm. “But, it’s okay. I’m the one who….”

  “We’ve gotten a complaint about noise,” the other officer informs me.

  “Yes, I know,” I reply. “But….”


  They peer over my shoulder and into my apartment.

  “We were told there was a party and loud music,” the taller officer states.

  “Yes, I know,” I huff. “That’s what I’m trying to explain.”

  “That the party is suddenly gone?” the shorter officer inquires.

  “Must have been a boring party,” the other snickers.

  “No,” I chuckle nervously. “There wasn’t a party to begin with.”

  They stare at me blankly as if questioning my sanity.

  “I’m trying to impress a woman,” I explain.

  They’re expressions soften.

  “Then why….?”

  “It’s a ploy,” I reveal. “To get her here.”

  “Who?” the shorter officer inquires.

  “The woman,” I say.

  “Pretending to have a party is supposed to get a woman, the woman you want to impress, to come to your place?” the taller officer questions.

  “Yes,” I affirm.

  “Are you drunk?” the shorter officer inquires.

  “No,” I chuckle. “God. This all sounds weird, doesn’t it?”

  They both nod as they try to process what they already know, and to probably determine if I am, in fact, insane or high.

  “See,” I huff. “I’m the one who called you to begin with.”

  “Why would you call the cops on your own non-existent party?” the taller officer searches.

  “Is the woman you’re trying to impress already here?” the shorter officer inquires.

  “No,” I return nervously. “She’s not here.”

  “Was she supposed to be here when we got here?” the taller officer inquires.

  “Um,” I sigh. “She’s supposed to get here when you got here.”

  “So, she’s running late?” the shorter officer guesses.

  “No,” I say.

  Neither of them comment, probably still confused by the situation.

  “Look,” I begin. “She’s one of you…a cop.”

  The corners of their mouths hook up.

  “Which officer are you trying to have respond to a fake call?” the taller officer inquires.

  “Reporting a fake incident is illegal, and you could….”

  “Quiet,” the taller officer interrupts the shorter. “It’s the holidays and this man is in love.”