return home. Fuentes and I have discussed this. There is no risk. Saturday, I go. If you want to stay, then stay. I'm going home with fifteen hundred dollars. That is final.'
'There is always a risk,' Anita said, her voice trembling.
'Not this time. Saturday we leave. Now get me something to eat.'
Anita had made friends with the third chef at the Spanish Bay Hotel. She allowed him, from time to time, to put his hand up her skirt for a gentle feel, and, in return, he gave her leftovers: bits of good steak, bits of chicken and sometimes even a slice of fruit tart. As she sat, staring at Pedro, she nursed the plastic sack the chef had given her, and Pedro was looking hungrily at the sack. He hadn't eaten all day.
'You really mean you are going to steal, my darling?' she asked.
'You heard! Get me something to eat!'
She got slowly to her feet and walked unsteadily into the tiny kitchen.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Detective 1st Grade Tom Lepski liked Fridays. Unless there was some emergency, and in Paradise City this was rare, he could sign off and return home for the weekend. Okay, there was Carroll his wife, to nag him to do the lawn, but he was away from the detectives' room and even household chores were minor compared to sitting around waiting for crime.
He looked at his watch. Another ten minutes, and he would be off. Carroll had told him there would be a chicken and ham pie for dinner. Lepski liked his food, and chicken and ham pie was one of his special favorites.
Max Jacoby, Detective 2nd Grade, was thumping out a stolen car report. He and Lepski worked well together.
'Chicken and ham pie!' Lepski exclaimed. 'Man! I dig that pie!'
Jacoby paused in his typing.
'There are times when I envy you, Tom,' he said. 'To be married to a great girl like Carroll! When I sign off, I'll be going to Fung-U for a take-home dinner . . . ugh!'
Lepski looked smug. 'It's time you got married, Max. That junk food is not for me. Carroll would flip her lid to think of me eating that kind of swill.'
'I guess.' Jacoby sighed and resumed his typing.
The telephone on Lepski's desk came alive. He snatched up the receiver and bellowed. 'Detective Lepski! What do you want?'
'Lepski! Do you have to be so common and shout like that?' Lepski groaned, recognizing his wife's voice.
'Oh, it's you, honey,' he said, lowering his voice.
'Yes, it's me,' Carroll said. 'Really, Tom, you should try to be more refined when answering the telephone.'
'Okay.' Lepski loosened his tie. 'I'll be home in twenty minutes. How's the pie looking?'
'That's why I'm calling. I had Mavis here. She was telling me about her husband. Really, Tom, the way that man behaves! I just sat listening, speechless.'
Lepski shifted restlessly in his chair. 'Okay, feed me the details when I get home. How's the pie looking?'
There was a pause, then Carroll said, 'There was a little trouble. When Mavis was telling me about Joe, I sort of forgot the pie was in the oven. The things that man does to her! You can't believe it! I was absolutely speechless!'
Lepski began to drum his fingers on his desk.
'You forgot the goddam pie was in the oven?'
'Don't swear, Lepski. It's vulgar.'
Lepski picked up a pencil and snapped it in two.
Jacoby stopped typing and sat back to listen.
'What's happened to the pie?' Lepski bawled.
'I wish you wouldn't shout. I'm calling to tell you to stop off at Fung-U's take-home shop and bring us something to eat,' Carroll said. 'Otherwise, we'll have nothing,' and she hung up.
Lepski slammed down the receiver and glared at Jacoby who quickly resumed his typing. Snorting, Lepski stormed out of the detectives' room.
As he reached the charge room, about to sign off, Sergeant Joe Beigler appeared. Beigler, a big, fleshy, freckle-faced man, was in charge of headquarters while Chief of Police, Fred Terrell, was absent.
'I have a job for you, Tom,' he said.
Lepski glared at him. 'I'm signing off!'
'You'll love this one,
'There is always a risk,' Anita said, her voice trembling.
'Not this time. Saturday we leave. Now get me something to eat.'
Anita had made friends with the third chef at the Spanish Bay Hotel. She allowed him, from time to time, to put his hand up her skirt for a gentle feel, and, in return, he gave her leftovers: bits of good steak, bits of chicken and sometimes even a slice of fruit tart. As she sat, staring at Pedro, she nursed the plastic sack the chef had given her, and Pedro was looking hungrily at the sack. He hadn't eaten all day.
'You really mean you are going to steal, my darling?' she asked.
'You heard! Get me something to eat!'
She got slowly to her feet and walked unsteadily into the tiny kitchen.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Detective 1st Grade Tom Lepski liked Fridays. Unless there was some emergency, and in Paradise City this was rare, he could sign off and return home for the weekend. Okay, there was Carroll his wife, to nag him to do the lawn, but he was away from the detectives' room and even household chores were minor compared to sitting around waiting for crime.
He looked at his watch. Another ten minutes, and he would be off. Carroll had told him there would be a chicken and ham pie for dinner. Lepski liked his food, and chicken and ham pie was one of his special favorites.
Max Jacoby, Detective 2nd Grade, was thumping out a stolen car report. He and Lepski worked well together.
'Chicken and ham pie!' Lepski exclaimed. 'Man! I dig that pie!'
Jacoby paused in his typing.
'There are times when I envy you, Tom,' he said. 'To be married to a great girl like Carroll! When I sign off, I'll be going to Fung-U for a take-home dinner . . . ugh!'
Lepski looked smug. 'It's time you got married, Max. That junk food is not for me. Carroll would flip her lid to think of me eating that kind of swill.'
'I guess.' Jacoby sighed and resumed his typing.
The telephone on Lepski's desk came alive. He snatched up the receiver and bellowed. 'Detective Lepski! What do you want?'
'Lepski! Do you have to be so common and shout like that?' Lepski groaned, recognizing his wife's voice.
'Oh, it's you, honey,' he said, lowering his voice.
'Yes, it's me,' Carroll said. 'Really, Tom, you should try to be more refined when answering the telephone.'
'Okay.' Lepski loosened his tie. 'I'll be home in twenty minutes. How's the pie looking?'
'That's why I'm calling. I had Mavis here. She was telling me about her husband. Really, Tom, the way that man behaves! I just sat listening, speechless.'
Lepski shifted restlessly in his chair. 'Okay, feed me the details when I get home. How's the pie looking?'
There was a pause, then Carroll said, 'There was a little trouble. When Mavis was telling me about Joe, I sort of forgot the pie was in the oven. The things that man does to her! You can't believe it! I was absolutely speechless!'
Lepski began to drum his fingers on his desk.
'You forgot the goddam pie was in the oven?'
'Don't swear, Lepski. It's vulgar.'
Lepski picked up a pencil and snapped it in two.
Jacoby stopped typing and sat back to listen.
'What's happened to the pie?' Lepski bawled.
'I wish you wouldn't shout. I'm calling to tell you to stop off at Fung-U's take-home shop and bring us something to eat,' Carroll said. 'Otherwise, we'll have nothing,' and she hung up.
Lepski slammed down the receiver and glared at Jacoby who quickly resumed his typing. Snorting, Lepski stormed out of the detectives' room.
As he reached the charge room, about to sign off, Sergeant Joe Beigler appeared. Beigler, a big, fleshy, freckle-faced man, was in charge of headquarters while Chief of Police, Fred Terrell, was absent.
'I have a job for you, Tom,' he said.
Lepski glared at him. 'I'm signing off!'
'You'll love this one,
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