Page 26 of One In Vermillion

“Let me make this perfectly clear,” Bartlett said. “No more freelancing or arresting people having an enjoyable evening at JB’s. You can de-escalate the situation, but arresting them is placing too much of a burden on our system. Also, it’s causing delays in construction at River Vista when their workers get arrested.”

Since when did Bartlett give a shit about construction at the development? He was right. I didn’t understand. “And if it doesn’t de-escalate?”

“Do your best,” Bartlett said. “In fact, why are you there almost every evening, Detective Cooper? It’s after your shift.”

“Because it’s where the trouble will be,” I said. Head to the sound of the guns was what every good soldier did. That was a military staple well before Major Rogers and his Rules.

I felt the phone vibrate in my pocket.

Fucking Bartlett.

“Did it ever occur to you,” Bartlett said, “that your presence is causing some of the problems?”

“Nope.”

Bartlett blinked and waited. Perhaps for an explanation, but I didn’t provide one. I had better things to think about. Like if there were pictures in my pocket.

“Nevertheless,” he finally said, “no arrests.”

“What if someone gets shot?” I asked. “Literally?”

“I’m talking about the usual testosterone-filled arguments,” Bartlett said. “Men will be men. They work hard during the day. They’re just blowing off steam.”

I wondered what he knew about either of those things as a couple of snickers emerged from my colleagues and Bartlett flushed pink.

He really needed to do something about that.

“Furthermore,” he said, because he was the kind of guy who said furthermore, “River Vista has hired their own private security force. This relieves us of the burden of checking on it and we can focus on the town.”

As far as I knew, I was the only one who checked on River Vista.

“The place is off-limits,” Bartlett said, which caused me to blink and several of the crew to exchange confused looks.

“Hold on.” I forgot about naked lunch for the moment. “Since when is someplace in our jurisdiction off-limits?”

Bartlett cleared his throat. “Since now.”

“Did you make this up?” I asked.

Bartlett dodged. “I concur with Mayor O’Toole’s decision on this matter.”

“And did Mayor O’Toole concur with Senator Wilcox’s decision on the matter?” I asked. “She was out there yesterday meeting with Cash Porter.”

Bartlett folded his arms, which meant, according to a shrink who’d briefed on interrogations when I was in the NYPD, meant that he was getting defensive. “It’s our policy. Starting now. River Vista is off-limits.”

“Does that mean we drop the larceny investigation?”

“Yes.”

“That’s bullshit,” I said. “You were with me yesterday. Their private security is the Iron Wolves.”

There was a stir among the officers who knew what the Wolves meant.

“Irregardless,” Bartlett said, “River Vista is off-limits. One hundred percent off-limits.”

He might as well just open up a free fire zone. I thought. “What about county? Off-limits to the sheriff, too?”

“They’ve been notified,” Bartlett said. “And will comply.”

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