Page 10 of Stilettos & Whiskey
He glanced up. “Nah, I’m done.”
“I’ll say,” Frank muttered.
Sergeant Bergman smiled like a vulture contemplating lunch. “I’m assigning you dead animal pickup.”
“What? You can’t do that!” Evans protested.
“I can and I have. There is a dead skunk at Grand and El Mirage Road, but first you need to pick up the egg sandwiches from Bitsie’s and deliver them to the prisoners working the chain gang at White Tanks Mountain Park.”
I bit my lip to keep from laughing. The egg sandwiches smelled so bad, I transported them in the trunk of my patrol car.
Evans shot me a furious look. “That’s Garza’s beat.”
“And I assigned the detail to you. Are you incapable of following orders, Evans?”
“No, sir.”
“Good. Everyone stay safe. Dismissed,” Sergeant Bergman said, and headed for his office.
Frank and I did a fist-bump and grinned like loons. No dead animal pickup!
Evans gave us a one-fingered salute and stormed out.
“I’m not feeling the love,” I said.
Frank chortled. “Watch. He’ll get lost in the park.”
“No, he won’t. There is only one road in and out.”
“But there are a lot of dirt tracks that go nowhere. I bet you twenty dollars; he takes a supposed shortcut and ends up in a ravine.” Frank stuck out his hand. “Deal?”
I took it. “You’re on. Even Evans isn’t that stupid.”
“Wait and see.” Frank headed for his locker.
Chapter Two
A red-headed woman in her forties ran into the street and waved her arms frantically. I slammed on the brakes. “Holy shit, lady! You got a death wish?”
She pounded on my window. “Help me! Please, you gotta help me. I don’t know what to do.”
A blue Ford skidded to a stop behind me and a teenage boy laid on the horn.
I flipped on my overhead lights and rolled the window down. “Ma’am, I need you to step over to the sidewalk, and I’ll talk with you there.”
“But this is an emergency!” Her expression was one of blind panic.
“I understand that, but the middle of the street is not safe for you or me.”
She threw up her hands in disgust and stomped back to the blue Ford. “What the fuck is your problem? I have a real emergency.”
“You’re the problem, lady. You’re making me late for work,” the teenage boy shouted. He put it in reverse and backed rapidly down the street, did a U-turn and sped off.
Oh, hell, it was going to be one ofthosedays. “Charlie-24 show me out with a citizen at Reems and Thunderbird Road.”
“Copy, Charlie-24,” the dispatcher responded.
I parked my patrol car and got out. “What type of emergency do you have, ma’am?”
