Cahill

I could hear the din from the bar as I exited my SUV and I was still almost a block away. What a shame! I knew from long experience that would change as soon as my foot crossed the threshold. I tend to have that effect on people. I’m six feet six inches tall and I weigh an even 250 pounds—all of it broad shouldered muscle. My Body Mass Index at my last physical was less than four percent. My light brown hair is styled exactly the way it’s been for the past fifteen years—ever since I first joined the Navy. Sure enough, no sooner had I taken my first step into the bar than the noise died. When I turned left and stepped up to the bar the people there couldn’t back away fast enough. I took a stool in the middle of the empty space and sat down, waiting for the bartender to approach. “I’m not looking for any trouble.” “Good…neither am I. Give me a ginger ale.” He reached under the bar for a glass and some ice. Twenty seconds later he slid the glass in my direction. I pulled a fiver from my pocket and dropped it on the bar. He ignored it and walked away to draw a few beers and pour some wine. It looked to me like this was a pretty cheap crowd. Checking up and down the bar all I could see were longnecks and drafts. I reached into the lower left pocket of my cargo pants. Like almost everything else I was wearing they were a true deep navy blue. My heavy shoes were black as was my wide belt. My belt said as much about me as the bold white lettering across my chest. Just below the American flag over my heart were the letters that were my life—U. S. MARSHAL. On my right hip was my nickel plated .44 Magnum Colt Python, just behind two speed loaders in addition to the twenty-four rounds on the belt. On my left hip was my ASP Talon baton—every bit as deadly a weapon in my hands as the revolver. A pouch at the back of my right hip held my stainless steel handcuffs and its partner on the opposite side held my radio—my link to my backup team. I placed the photo flat on the bar as the bartender returned to me. “I’ll have another,” I said in a loud voice, continuing so I wouldn’t be overheard. “Don’t pick it up and don’t make a production of looking at it. I’ve been told that he comes here a lot. Is he here tonight? If he is and he escapes because you’ve given me away I’ll see to it that you’re arrested for obstruction of justice.” He gulped a few times but did as he was told, nodding slightly in response. I continued almost at a whisper. “If my nose is pointing to twelve o’clock, my right ear to three, the back of my head to six, and my left ear to nine, tell me where he is. Again, don’t point or do anything obvious and we’ll be fine.” He pretended to wipe the bar as he whispered, “About 4:30 with his back to you.” I picked up the reflection in the mirror then asked, “Red shirt with black and white stripes, looking away from me?” He nodded again. Now, in my normal tone of voice I asked, “Where’s the men’s room?”

Fredrick_Udele · ファンタジー

レビュー数が足りません

69 Chs

CHAPTER 28

Lucy walked into the shop almost an hour later and was greeted immediately by the owner, a woman I had recognized from one of her parents' Sunday parties. She brought menus to our table and we ordered subs and Cokes. While we were waiting I told Lucy that I had seen two police officers in a car do nothing during her emergency. Their intervention might have saved Craig's shoulder—something he was unlikely to use again no matter how long he lived unless he had replacement surgery. A bullet like a .44 Magnum hits its target with an incredible amount of kinetic energy—so much that it will literally pulverize any bones it strikes.

Lucy was justifiably pissed off when she learned that the police had not acted to aid her so she took her phone out of her purse and called the main police station. "Ed, it's Lucille Bascomb; can you tell me who is in car eleven today. Okay, I see. Thanks. Say hi to Adele for me, will you?

"You were right. It was Haynes and his partner—Gil Parsons. They're bad news. I think I have to make a few more calls. She did, and when she was done I had been approved to start work tomorrow—Daryl, too. I phoned him on the way home, telling him I'd meet him at Lucy's in an hour. We had a lot to do this afternoon.

>>>>>>

I placed phone calls to Paul McCormick in the hopes of borrowing one of his 150-pound dummies. He agreed immediately. I could pick it up at any time. My next call was to the superintendent of schools to inquire about the procedure needed to use the high school track. That was easier than I thought. All I would need was a letter on the Police Department letterhead requesting the dates. My final call was to the Sheriff's Office to ask about using their firing range. Once again, all I had to do was plan about two weeks in advance and as many as five slots would be set aside for us. I also made arrangements for the city to reimburse the Sheriff for any ammunition we used there.

I pieced together a memo to all police officers—even station house personnel—regarding the new performance standards and scheduling them. I added a final paragraph informing all personnel that failure to appear for testing would be viewed as insubordination that would result in unpaid suspension from the force for a period to be determined or outright dismissal.

"Kind of strong, isn't it, Matt?"

"Yeah, it is, Daryl, but we've been hired to clean up a mess that's been in existence for years. I'm not going to pussyfoot around. I already have a plan to hire a bunch of minorities and you're going to be a big part of it."

I'm a decent typist, but Daryl is a pro. He had it done in only a couple of minutes then we made 150 copies on Lucy's printer. Once that was done I drove us to City Hall to make an official appearance at police headquarters which was located at the rear of the building. We walked in together—Lucy, Daryl, Max, and me. We stepped up to the desk and I told the Sergeant, "I'm Matt Cahill, the new Chief of Police, and this is Daryl Evans who is a new lieutenant. I believe you already know Ms. Bascomb. I want you to know that I will be starting officially tomorrow morning. When do officers report for duty?"

"Our shift runs from 8:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m. Most of us show up between 7:15 and 7:30 to dress and be briefed after roll call."

"Post a bulletin where everyone can and will see that there will be inspection immediately following the roll call for all on shift. That includes uniformed station personnel."

"Inspection?"

"You heard me correctly. A record will be kept of infractions and I will distribute information regarding the new performance standards. Thank you for your cooperation, Sergeant. We'll see you in the morning." We turned away and walked toward the door, but all of us could clearly hear the sergeant when he said, "Holy Shit!"

Our next stop was the shop that provided the uniforms. After explaining who we were, the owner tried to show us the same brown uniforms that the police had worn for years. I asked if he had any white shirts and navy pants. He did and told us he could sew on the required American Flag and name and rank by close of business. We signed the voucher for the city and left, returning two hours later.

We ate at home that night with Daryl and Jasmine joining us. They appeared to be getting along quite well. I reminded myself to talk about them with Lucy later when we were in bed. It wasn't first on my agenda, but I knew we'd talk before we slept.

Dinner was great, as usual. Lucy's cook had grilled a big slab of sirloin just the way I liked it—medium rare—with baked potatoes and fresh string beans from one of the local farms. Lucy and Jasmine drank wine—a Merlot Lucy told me was from the Napa Valley in northern California. Daryl and I drank ginger ale. Tomorrow was too big a day to risk messing up by drinking too much. We all turned in early in anticipation of a big day.

Lucy and I had our arms around each other as we ascended the stairs, but she stopped halfway to turn and kiss me. Rather than break it I lifted her easily and carried her all the way to our bedroom. We stripped each other with well practiced efficiency and stepped together into the shower. We washed quickly in our urgency to become a couple—to become one. I was still a bit damp when we jumped into bed together. Then Lucy once again showed her immense love for me by going down on my already fully erect cock.

Kneeling between my legs, Lucy kept her eyes on mine as her tongue actively left the sensitive underside of my organ. I was delirious in my lust for her, so much so that I leaned forward, took her hips in my hands and lay back with Lucy lying atop me. We kissed again, the taste of my own cock on her tongue dissuading me not at all. My hands clutched Lucy's body while hers sought out my cock, moving it into perfect position to penetrate her hot tight tunnel. She was wet—actively oozing—as I stretched her seemingly to the breaking point. I knew that this was her favorite part of making love so I moved very, very slowly as I pressed up and into her.

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