Private Eyes

He scowled. “What a bunch of princes, huh? I smiled back and said it was fu

“How’d they react to that bit of charm?”

“More smiles, then this greasy silence you could deep-fry potatoes in. Mind-tripping. No doubt the asshole shrink prepped them- no offense. But that’s the military mind: Destroy the individual.”

He looked at the milk carton, said, “Ah, low-fat. That’s good. Here’s to triglycerides.”

I filled the coffee-maker carafe with water, spooned Kenyan into the hatch.

“Give the assholes one thing,” he said. “They’re getting more assertive. This time they came right out and talked pension. Dollars and cents. Actuarial tables, how much more it added up to when you threw in the interest I could earn if I invested wisely. How nice life could be with what I had coming after fourteen years. When I didn’t slaver and snap, they dropped the carrot and picked up the stick, started hinting around about how the pension was by no means a foregone conclusion, given the circumstances. Blah blah blah. How timing was of the essence. Blah blah blah.”

He started to work on another piece of bread.

I said, “Bottom line?”

“I let them blah on for a while, then got up, said I had a pressing engagement, and left.”

“Well,” I said, “if you ever do decide to quit, there’s always the diplomatic corps.”

“Hey,” he said, “I’ve had it to here.” Ru

He drank and ate. “Course, guess I can’t expect much better, given the circumstances.” He smiled.

“A-plus in reality testing, Milo.”

He said, “Assaulting a superior officer.” Bigger smile. “Has a nice ring to it, wouldn’t you say?”

“You forgot the crucial part. On TV.”

He gri

“That you did. What’s the situation with Frisk?”

“Word has it his cute little nose has healed quite nicely. The new teeth look almost as good as the old ones- amazing what they can do with plastic nowadays, huh? But he is go

“He back on duty?”

“Nooo. Seems Ke

“He’s the assistant chief’s son-in-law, Milo. You’re lucky to still be on the force.”

He put down the carton and glared. “Don’t you think if they could have shafted me, they would have? They’re in a one-down position and they know it- that’s why they’re going the weasel route.”

He slammed his big hand down on the counter. “Asshole used me for fucking bait. The lawyer Rick had me talk to told me I had grounds for a major-league civil suit, could have taken it to the papers and kept it there for months. He would have loved it- the shyster. Big contingency fee. Rick wanted me to do it, too. On principle. But I refused because that wasn’t what it was about- bunch of goddam shysters quibbling about technicalities for ten years. This was one-on-one; it needed to be handled one-on-one. Going the TV route was my extra insurance- couple of million witnesses, so no one could say it didn’t happen the way it did. That’s why I hit him after he said what a great hero I was and gave me the commendation. So no one could say it was sour grapes. The department owes me, Alex. They should be grateful all I did was mess up his face. And if Frisk is smart, he’ll be grateful, too- stay out of my face. Permanently. Fuck his family co

His eyes had cleared and his complexion had deepened to hot pink. With his hair over his forehead and thick lips, he resembled a disgruntled gorilla.

I applauded.

He rose a few inches, stared at me, then started laughing. “Ah, nothing like adrenaline to make the day take on a rosy glow. Sure you don’t want to golf?”

“Sorry. I really have to get the paper done and there’s a patient coming at noon. And, frankly, knocking balls around the green isn’t my idea of recreation, Milo.”

“I know, I know,” he said. “No aerobic benefit. Bet your triglycerides are just peachy.”

I shrugged. The coffee was done. I poured two cups, gave one to him.

“So,” I said, “what else have you been doing to fill the time?”

He gave an expansive gesture and put on a brogue: “Oh, it’s been just grand, lad. Needlepoint, papier-mÂchÉ, decoupage, crocheting. Little schooners and yachts made of ice-cream sticks and glitter- there’s a wonderful world of crafts out there just waiting to be explored.” He drank coffee. “It’s been shit. Worse than a desk job. At first I thought I’d get into gardening- grab some sun, a little exercise. Back to the earth- to my roots, praise Hibernia.”

“Pla

He chuckled. “Pla

“What about volunteer work?”

He clapped his hands over his ears and grimaced. When he removed them, I said, “What?”

“Heard it before. Every day, from the altruistic Dr. Silverman. The Free Clinic AIDS group, homeless kids, Skid Row Mission, whatever. Find a cause, Milo, and stick with it. Only problem is, I feel too goddam mean. Coiled. Like someone better not say the wrong thing to me or they’re go