EXTRACT FOR
Deek
(Author Unknown)

Chapter 1

    

    Watching people is what I do. I'm a cop. She first caught my attention a few days earlier. I was watching a pawnshop that we thought was involved in a fencing operation. I saw her get out of a car and make her way down the sidewalk toward me. She was young, that was obvious, but she moved as if she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. I guessed her age at maybe eighteen or nineteen, but I recognize I am the world's worst age guesser. By the way, my name is Jimmy Deacon. Most of my friends call me Deek. I'm single and have no intention of changing my status.

    I love my job and I'm good at it. I clear more cases than any other cop in my precinct.  I do it because I hate having a crime that remains unsolved. I'm also an honest cop. I don't say that in any bragging way. It's the simple truth. I know I'm not the only honest cop, but it seems that we are a dying breed. 

    There's simply too much money out there. There are temptations coming at every cop from all directions.  The temptations coupled with miserable pay equals...well, you get the picture. There have always been temptations for an officer of the law, but the narcotics trade has opened up a brand new ballgame. 

    It's just too damned easy for a policeman to pick up some of the loose money that's lying around. It's easy for a cop to turn a blind eye to dope business because it doesn't seem to make a damn difference. Bust one and two pop up to take their place. 

    When I joined the police force, I made myself a promise to keep clean. I realize I sometimes take it to an extreme. I won't even accept a free cup of coffee. Again, I'm not bragging, just stating a fact.  This honesty, which I realize is close to an obsession, makes it hard to keep a partner. The others on the force are scared of me and that's a mystery because I have never ratted on a brother officer.  Never have and never will. They should know that, but I suppose they don't want to be the first I squeal on. Well, fuck 'em if they can't take a joke. This was why I'm alone as I watched the lass.

    I saw her the next day also. She got out of the same old car. I noticed that there was a black man driving and another black man in the passenger's seat. Not that seeing a white girl with a black man is unusual these days of liberal enlightenment. I have a 'live and let live' approach to things like that. Of course in my business the 'let live' part is sometimes ignored by others.  I had a pimp try to cut me open once and that was a major mistake on his part.  Not only did I arrest him for felony assault then, I busted his ass every week until he left town.

    There was something about the object of my scrutiny that arrested my attention. I saw that she was cute, not exactly pretty, just cute, but her expression was strained. Melancholy maybe. Resigned may even be a better description. For someone so young she looked like someone who had seen too much and had too much of the world's weight on her.

    The second time I saw her I shifted my position to watch where she went and saw that she entered a coffee shop a block on down the street. 

    I was off duty for a couple of days and when I got back to the stakeout, I saw her for the third time.  Nothing about the way she moved or looked had changed. She still looked cute and still troubled. On that occasion she got out of the car and again there were two black men in the vehicle.  I couldn't see them well enough to see if they were the same two as before. The beat up old car was the same, I was sure of that.

    Shortly before noon I was relieved for a lunch break and I decided to try the coffee shop. I didn't have any trouble finding her. She moved listlessly from table to table taking orders and delivering food.  I saw, when she got to my table, that the name tag she wore said 'Kate'. 

    "Hi Kate," I said. "Cheeseburger all the way with fries."

    "'Kay," she muttered, "What to drink?"  I told her that Coke would be fine. She asked me if Pepsi would be okay and shuffled away with my order.  I don't know why servers ask that. I've never heard anyone refuse Pepsi if Coke wasn't available. Who the hell is that loyal to a brand? Since I wasn't in any hurry to get back to the mind numbing task of sitting in a car watching a pawnshop, I lingered over my lunch. 

    Apparently that day was payday. The manager handed out pay envelopes to the waitresses and cook. About fifteen minutes after the eagle had flown, two black men came in and took a seat at the counter. Kate went over and put her pay envelope in the outstretched hand of one of the men. Neither of the three said a word, and the two men left. 

    Over the next couple of days I saw Kate being delivered to her coffee shop and each time I felt something stir in me. Pity, maybe. No young person should have to look so fucking sad and world-weary, but as far as I could tell there was nothing illegal about the situation. It was simply none of my business, so, of course, I made it my business anyway.

    For the next week I ate lunch at the coffee shop every day including my days off. Kate didn't appear to notice me or any other patron of the shop. Some days she came with two black men and some days just one.

    "How you doin' Kate?" I asked one day. Her eyes slowly rose from her order pad to look at me. I noticed around one eye that it was a yellowish purple where the makeup didn't cover it. There was also a small bruise on her cheek. It was obvious that Kate had been smacked around.

    "Fine.  What'ch need?" I ordered my usual burger and fries. She brought my Pepsi without me asking or discussing the absence of Coke, so I figured she had recognized me.

    "I see that you aren't wearing a ring," I said when she brought my food. "Care to take in a movie or something?" Kate looked startled a moment and shook her head.

    "Can't," she muttered. "I got...someone. Come back again," she added and left me. During that exchange I revised my appraisal of her. Probably twenty or so. She had a nice figure under the de-feminizing waitress uniform. Her hair was untidy like she hadn't seen inside a beauty shop in a while, but she smelled clean. I made a point of looking at her arms to see if I could see tell-tell needle tracks. I wasn't about to waste my time on a junky. I didn't see any sign of needle tracks, but I knew that didn't prove anything.  Junkies are clever. Sometimes they shoot-up between their toes. However her skin tone didn't indicate a heavy drug user. Without giving it too much thought, I made Kate a project. There was something about her that appealed to me and I couldn't say what it was.

    

***

    

    Because I'm single I got a lot of overtime. When over-time money ran out I got compensatory time.   Comp time was the department's way of screwing the troops without the benefit of a kiss. It simply was the promise of equal time off for time worked. It sounds good in the shower, but it doesn't work out that way. At least that's how it used to be. You never got all the time off, but I always kept accurate records. I logged every minute of comp time. Recent changes in the labor law now made the police department play fair.  Suddenly the department had to give the time or pay overtime for the accrued hours that were on the books. Since there was no money in the budget I got time off. 

    Over the years I had accumulated over three hundred and forty two hours of comp time. Eight and a half weeks of paid vacation to do whatever the hell I wanted to do. The chief of detectives nearly shit when he found out how much time I had coming to me. When he hinted that I should wipe the time off the books and just keep working, I ignored him. I knew there was no way he'd actually insist I do it.  Besides I had a project to work on.

    

***

    

    "So, Kate," I said to her. It was my first day of vacation and the lunch crowd had left the café. "Have a seat and tell me all about Kate."

    "Not allowed," she answered busily wiping the table next to mine. "Besides it would take too long."

    "I have nothing but time," I assured her. "I'm on vacation. Besides how long could it take?"

    "Must be nice," she said carrying the dirty dishes past me. She disappeared into the kitchen, but soon reappeared. "Vacation from what?"

    "I'm a cop," I told her. That was the first time she had shown any interest in me at all. That told me something. Most street people and crooks can spot us a mile away. She hadn't.

    "What kind of cop?" she asked standing beside my table.

    "The kind that protects little girls," I replied with a smile. "I'm a detective."

    "Protection from what?"

    "From whatever danger they may be in."

    "God, I wish I could believe that," she said with a wistful look. "Been my experience that that don't happen often. You carry a gun?"

    "Sure," I told her raising my shirt to show her my off duty weapon. "Have a seat and let's chat."

    "About what?" she said, but pulled a chair out and sat down across from me.

    "Anything you want to talk about. Maybe about the two black dudes that bring you and come get you every day. The ones that collect your pay," she looked startled.

    "You been watching me?" She didn't seem upset so I told her I had, but not intentionally. "Oh," she said when I finished telling her about the stakeout. "I was hoping that..." her voice faded. "Never mind," she finally said. "Where are you going on your vacation?"

    "Wherever you want to go," I said. "How about Florida?"

    "It's not very nice to tease people," she said angrily. It was a rare sign of emotion she had displayed that I saw.

    "I'm not teasing you," I said. "Look, Kate. If you want to take a trip with me, you're welcome. If you just want to get away from...whatever, I'll help you do that, too. Are you involved with either of the two black guys?"

    "That's one way of putting it, I guess," she answered bitterly. "You don't want to get involved with me or my problems."

    "I think I'm already involved, Kate. If you want to boogie, I'm your ticket out of here. If you want me to slap the two clowns around, I'll do that, too. Doesn't make any difference to me."  I could feel the intensity of her gaze. I knew she was appraising me. Probably wondering if I was just some horny blow-hard, making deals he couldn't deliver on. I'm a pretty large guy and I knew I looked like I could deliver.

    "You don't know a thing about me," she said in a soft, sad voice. "Maybe you wouldn't want to get involved with somebody like me. Besides how do I know if you're really a cop?"

    "I know all I need to know," I answered her. I showed her my badge and ID card.

    "Where in Florida?" she asked after carefully studying my credentials. 

    "It doesn't matter all that much to me," I answered. "I have an old Navy buddy in Winter Haven. That's close to Disneyland. We can go to Key West, Daytona, Miami, you tell me."

    "I've always wanted to see Disneyland," she said looking off into some middle distance. "I've never seen the ocean, either. Hell, I've never seen much of anything. Why?"

    "Why what? Why have I taken an interest in you? Truthfully, I don't know. Does it make a difference?"

    "No, I guess not," she answered. She glanced at the clock and back at her hands that were bust twisting a napkin into shreds. "You have no idea how much I want to get away. You couldn't possibly know. But I'm scared shitless that Marcus will find me."

    "Marcus? That's one of the two black guys?"  She nodded. "Look at me, Kate," I said. "Do I look like a man who is scared of somebody like those two yahoos? I'm not, but if I were, I could pick up the phone and have fifty cops here in just minutes. Marcus is a punk like I deal with every day. They are nothing at all. Just a bunch of wind"

    "I don't know about that. They're bad news. The other one is Cisco and he's a mean dude."

    "Not to me," I said with a laugh. "I eat punks like them for breakfast. Do you need to go pack? Florida beckons." She looked at me, then lowered her head. Not before I saw the tears. "I'm serious, Kate. Let's get out of here. Marcus and Cisco haven't been more than twenty blocks from here in their whole life. They won't find you, I promise." When she raised her head to look at me I saw something I hadn't seen before. Hope.

    "I can't go pack," she said softly. "They'll be home now."

    "So what?" I laughed. "You think they'll give me any shit?  Let's go, Kate. Adventure awaits us. Let's go get your things and if Poncho and Cisco want to say anything, I'll slap the shit out of them."

    Kate looked at me intently for a full minute then nodded her head like she had reached some internal decision.

    "Give me a minute to tell the owner that I'm leaving," she said. "He's been nice to me so I own him that much."