by Frank Zafiro
THIRTEEN
Friday, September 2nd, 1994
1916 hours
End of Tour
Johnny poured three quick shots and lifted them onto Rachel’s tray. The atmosphere at Duke’s was familiar, but he noticed a strange buzz in the crowd. By now, Johnny had heard about Poole and he imagined the sergeant’s death had something to do with the way patrons were acting. Some of the regulars knew, too, and they sat and conversed quietly, leaving the cops alone as they entered.
Chisolm had come first, taking a spot at the end of the bar. Johnny knew his drink and brought it without being asked. He noticed that Chisolm seemed neither depressed nor jovial and wondered if the man ever reached the depths of either emotion.
Ridgeway and Giovanni came in next and forwent their usual table to join Chisolm at the bar. Johnny served them as well, again asking no questions. In contrast to Chisolm, both men seemed solemn.
When Katie MacLeod, Matt Westboard and Will Reiser arrived, the group moved to the large table in the corner. Johnny kept Rachel busy bringing them drinks and wished he hadn’t sent the new girl home for the day.
“Johnny!” Ridgeway’s barked from across the room, his voice slightly slurred. “I want you to meet the man who captured the notorious Scarface Robber.” He paused a moment, then continued. “Wait a minute. You didn’t catch him, did you, Tom? You killed him. Sorry.” The group laughed.
Ridgeway turned back to the bartender. “Never mind, Johnny.”
Johnny was used to the gallows humor. He smiled and waved from behind the bar.
Chisolm shook his head. “You’re just jealous,” he told Ridgeway, setting up his favorite joke.
“Why?” Ridgeway played into the old line, even though he’d heard it dozens of times. “Because I don’t have to get grilled by IA and then sued by that scumbag robber’s family?”
“No. You’re jealous because I get to eat your wife but not her cooking.”
The group broke up in laughter and ooohs. Other patrons listened now and laughed at Chisolm’s line.
“You ate my wife?” Ridgeway asked in mock anger.
Chisolm winked and took a sip of his beer.
“Really?” Ridgeway asked. “How’d I taste?”
Everyone laughed even louder, and Chisolm laughed with them, conceding. He could not top that.
1928 hours
The doctor stood at Kopriva’s bedside. “You will have some loss of strength and range of motion, as I’ve explained. Particularly in your left arm. You might reach sixty to sixty-five percent mobility with therapy.”
“What about the knee?”
“Thanks to sports medicine, we can do a lot to repair knees.” The doctor glanced at his clipboard. “You won’t be running Bloomsday or the Boston Marathon, but you’ll walk, albeit with a limp.”
“Will I be able to return to duty?”
“As a patrol officer?” The doctor pressed his lips together and considered. “I can’t say for sure. I’d have to see how you respond to treatment and therapy. Then I’d need to get a better idea of the exact physical requirements for your position.”
“Sounds like a no,” Kopriva said.
The doctor shook his head. “Not at all. Let’s just wait and see how things work out. All right?”
“How long do I have to stay here?” Kopriva asked him.
The doctor shrugged. “Another week. Maybe two. I want you completely stabilized and make sure there’s no infection before we let you go home. We’ll know more in a few days.”
Kopriva nodded and the doctor left.
He took a deep breath and let it out, already anticipating the storm that waited for him after he healed. The Monday-morning quarterbacks would pad up and dissect his every move. They’d wanted to do so with Winter, but had kept it to themselves out of respect for the dead. Kopriva lived, so he would be fair game. He’d already heard rumblings about his actions in Winter’s death, so he figured the second-guessers would have a field day with him on this one.
He took another deep breath and exhaled. He’d deal with that when it happened. For now, he found himself looking forward to Katie’s visit later that afternoon.
2056 hours
Everyone was hammered, Johnny knew. He also knew better than to cut anyone off. He would call the taxis when the time came.
“Is Hart working?” Ridgeway asked. “The little pecker.”
“Let’s find out,” Chisolm said, walking to the pay phone. Everyone watched as he put a quarter in and dialed. A few moments later, he spoke.
“Lieutenant Hart, please.” There was a pause. Chisolm covered the receiver and said, “They’re getting him.”
The bar fell completely silent. Then Chisolm spoke into the phone. “Is this Lieutenant Alan Hart? Yes?” Chisolm glanced at the watching crowd and winked. “Well, then fuck you, you pencil-necked prick.” He hung up the phone.
The silence turned to disbelief, then exploded into laughter. Chisolm returned to the table, grinning drunkenly.
“What if he recognized your voice?” Westboard asked above the laughter.
“What if he has it analyzed?” Chisolm asked him, sitting down. “Who cares?”
Ridgeway stood, his glass held high. “To Thomas Chisolm, biggest stones in the whole department!”
A roar of laughter followed and everyone drank. Johnny watched as all the patrons in the small bar turned toward the table in the corner. Ridgeway sat down.
“To Stef Kopriva,” Katie toasted, “and a speedy recovery.”
“Hear, hear,” called the group and civilian patrons alike. Everyone drank again.
An uncomfortable silence settled in. Thomas Chisolm slowly rose, his beer bottle in hand. He stood solemnly, his face regal and hard. The thin white scar he received in Vietnam had never faded and in the small, dark bar, it seemed to glow.
He raised his bottle. “To our honored dead,” he said. “To Sergeant David Poole.”
“Poole,” repeated several.
“To Karl Winter,” Chisolm bellowed in a hard voice.
The roar rose in unison, amidst clinking glasses.
“To Karl Winter!”
Epilogue
Fall 1994
The doctor looked at his watch. Fifty minutes had passed since the officer had sat down and now the session had come to an end.
The officer noticed him looking and said, “Our time is up, huh, doc?”
The doctor nodded.
“So what’s the verdict?” the officer asked him.
Instead of answering, he asked, “Why don’t you tell me?”
“You mean, am I crazy? Whacked out over shooting that banger? Or getting shot myself?” He shook his head. “No. I’m okay with it. And I’ll get through whatever the department is sending my way, too. One way or another.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I don’t do this job for them,” the officer stated simply.
“Why do you do this job then?”
“Aren’t we out of time?”
The doctor waved his comment away. “It’s fine. We have a few minutes yet.”
The officer shrugged, then continued. “I do this job to do the right thing. To be on the right side. To help people.” He paused for a long moment. The doctor was about to ask him another question when he said quietly, “I do this job to make a difference.”
The doctor nodded at the common sentiment among police officers. “Have you?” he asked the officer. “Have you made a difference?”
The officer smiled wryly, staring down at his own hands. “Well, now that’s the real question, isn’t it?”
“I suppose it is,” the doctor agreed. “Have you found an answer?”
The officer looked up at him, his face showing nothing other than a calm expression.
“Time will tell,” he said.
THE END
Acknowledgements
Writing is solitary work (unless, of course, you count the scores of people running around inside my head as I am plinking away
at the keyboard...but that’s another matter). And while there is no question that it is a fun, creative endeavor that we writers would do regardless of whether someone were to read the final result or not...make no mistake about the fact that it is work. Work we love, but work nonetheless.
No such work is accomplished alone. The acknowledgements page isn’t here for us authors to use as a soapbox or to suck up to anyone. It’s here to drive the point home that the book you hold in your hands may have been conceived, grown, birthed and nurtured by me, but it got a very large dose of help along the way. How large a dose? Read on.
I would like to thank the following people:
Russ Davis at Gray Dog Press, for picking up the River City series and running with it in print.
Margaret Carr, Editor-in-Chief at e-Press Online, for taking a chance on this book before anyone else did.
Herb Holeman, Sharon Connors and Nadene Carter, who edited the e-book version and helped make sure Margaret wasn’t sorry she took that chance.
Colin Conway, my fellow writer and friend, for offering his take on this book as well as a host of other books and stories.
Ezine editors such as Joseph DeMarco of Mysterical-E, Tony Burton of Crime & Suspense, Todd Robinson of Thuglit, as well as BJ Bourg of the now-defunct Mouthfull of Bullets and Russel McLean and Douglas Shepherd of the now-defunct Crime Scene Scotland, just to a name a few—not only for accepting and publishing my stories but for providing beginning writers a venue to be published.
Kathleen McHugh, who was not only a wonderful teacher to me, but who was unflagging in her early support of my dream to become a published author. She read the first novel I ever wrote, Not Without Saying Goodbye. It was wretched, but she read every page and treated it with great respect.
Bob Kruger of Electric Story, for taking a look at an early draft of this book and for pointing out in caring detail why it wasn’t good enough...yet.
Mike Savage of Savage Press in Wisconsin, for his encouragement.
The many readers and writers I’ve met through the wizardry of the Internet who have become close friends and peers, even though I haven’t been lucky enough yet to even shake their hand…you all know who you are!
Tony Burton of Wolfmont Publishing, who was brave enough to first put this book into print and honest enough (and soon enough) to let me know he wasn’t able to walk any further down the River City road with me.
The men and women of the Spokane Police Department, for giving me brotherhood, purpose and inspiration.
My children, Mitchell, Maria and Nico, who sometimes share me with this strange obsession called writing. When you have children of your own, I imagine you will know then that you are truly my greatest joys in this world or any other.
And finally, my wife, Kristi May. Thank you for being the one who understands the most and the best.
Affectionately and gratefully,
Frank, September 2009
About the Author
Frank became a police officer in 1993 after serving in the U.S. Army. He writes crime fiction set in River City. In addition to writing, Frank is an avid hockey player and a tortured guitarist. His wife, Kristi, and his three children are about the only folks who will watch him do either activity.
You can keep up with him at http://frankzafiro.com or his blog at http://frankzafiro.blogspot.com.
He also writes under his given name and you can check that out at http://frankscalise.com and http://frankscalise.blogspot.com
Other books by Frank Zafiro
(Available from Gray Dog Press and as ebooks)
River City Series (Crime Novels)
Under a Raging Moon
A violent robber is loose in River City. Meet the cops that must take him down.
Stefan Kopriva, a young hotshot. Katie MacLeod, a woman in what is still mostly a man’s world. Karl Winter, about to retire but with one more good bust left in him. And Thomas Chisolm, a former Green Beret who knows how dangerous a man like the Scarface Robber can be.
These are the patrol officers of River City – that mythical thin blue line between society and anarchy. They must stop the robber, all the while juggling divorces, love affairs, internal politics, a hostile media, vengeful gang members and a civilian population that isn’t always understanding or even grateful.
Written by a real cop with real experience, Under a Raging Moon is like a paperback ride-along. Enjoy the ride.
Under a Raging Moon is the first River City novel.
“Engrossing, fast-paced, suspenseful… highly recommended.”
LJ Roberts, DorothyL Mystery List
“Gritty, profane, and compelling.”
Lawrence McMicking, curledup.com
“If you like McBain, or any gritty police procedural, then Zafiro is someone for you to pick up, enjoy, and then wait for the next book.”
PJ Coldren, Amazon.com review
“Under A Raging Moon is an extraordinary crime novel. Like Ed McBain’s Isola, River City is a combination of the best and worst of the human species, and its cops are as complex and haunted as the criminals they battle each day. Frank Zafiro has created a gritty, totally authentic world with believable characters, nonstop action, and snappy dialogue (think Hill Street Blues in Washington state). Don’t miss this book–It’ll keep you turning pages well into the moonlit night.”
John M. Floyd, award-winning author of Rainbow's End
“In Under a Raging Moon, Frank Zafiro doesn’t tell you about the mean streets, he takes you to them with clear, concise writing as solid as the asphalt beneath your feet. You feel the tension between those out there to prey and those there to protect. You feel the anxiety of knowing every routine traffic stop could turn into a killing, and every junkie and pusher you bust wants you dead. He also takes you deep behind the badge. His ensemble cast of cops have issues within themselves and with each other and can’t leave them at home any more than we can. You’ll be there with them in the squad room, in the patrol cars and in their favorite watering hole.
“Frank Zafiro has woven a powerful story with realistic, memorable characters, a suspenseful plot and a climax that will leave you breathless. If you’ve ever wanted to know what it would be like to put on the blue uniform, wear a badge and carry a gun, this one is highly recommended.”
Earl Staggs, Derringer Award-winning author
Heroes Often Fail
The men and women of the River City Police Department are sworn to protect and to serve. But when six-year-old girl is kidnapped off a residential street in broad daylight, each cop must rise to heroic levels. Detectives scramble to solve the kidnapping while patrol officers comb the streets looking for the missing girl. Racing against time, every cop on the job focuses on finding her. Before it is too late. Before they fail her.
Heroes Often Fail is the second River City Crime Novel
“[a] complex police procedural with multi layered characters, a rich setting, and plenty of action.”
Kevin Tipple, independent reviewer
“[An] affecting novel from a writer who knows not only the job, but the grueling toll certain cases can take on the victims and those charged with upholding law and order.”
Russel McLean, Crime Scene Scotland.
"Strap yourself in for this citizen’s ride-along! Frank Zafiro pits cop against perp in the race to save six-year-old kidnap victim Amy Dugger. The problem for the River City PD is that Amy’s abductor isn’t the only creep in town. Zafiro not only drops us right into the precinct during business hours, but he also succeeds at presenting the human side of cops. We come to know these men and women who risk everything to do their duty. We hope they become heroes. And we pray they do not fail."
Jill Maser, award-winning author of Unspoken
“Heroes Often Fail is a riveting, intimate account of a parent’s worst nightmare and the men and women of the River City Police Department. The author skillfully portrays the protagonist’s inner conflict. Moving and real. Impossible not to get caught up
in the emotional roller coaster crafted by this talented writer.”
T. Dawn Richard, author of the May List Mystery Series
“Heroes Often Fail delivers what we've come to expect from Frank Zafiro--sharp-edged dialogue, vivid characters, and an intimate knowledge of the way things work in an urban police department. A tense, frightening tale, and the best River City novel to date.”
John M. Floyd, award-winning author of Rainbow's End
“Heroes Often Fail could be one of the most authentic police procedurals I've read. The story appears deceptively simple--a six-year old girl snatched from the streets, but as it jumps around between the lives of the detectives and uniformed officers trying to find her, it adds a more layered, sophisticated texture. Written in short chapters and lean, muscular prose, this is an exceptionally satisfying and engrossing read, and a book that would've made Ed McBain proud!”
Dave Zeltserman, author of Bad Thoughts
“A standout amongst police procedurals, Frank Zafiro's Heroes Often Fail does the job of not only showing the nuances of police work, but also the effects of crime on the victims. In a literary world populated (and dulled) by shiny lab technicians and ridiculously elaborate set pieces, Mr. Zafiro never forgets the dirt under the nails approach and the heart of any great story - the characters. The writing is brutally dark and jolting in places, hopeful in others, not an easy balancing act that Mr. Zafiro pulls off seamlessly. A small(er) town offspring of Wambaugh and McBain, it stands amongst the greats and finds enough room to be completely on its own terms.”
Todd Robinson, editor of Thuglit
