Richard looked at the officers as they pondered in silence. Was no one going to say anything? He decided to broach the subject.

“So how did Doyle become captain?” he asked, trying to contain his excitement.

“We have no idea,” piped up an officer. “We just heard about it this morning.” He turned to Terry. “Got any news, Sergeant?”

“Not much,” Terry revealed. “Just that Adeguti resigned last night and left town.”

Richard reared back with a start. “Did he say why?”

“Not really. He left a letter; it was the usual story. Moving on to other challenges, grateful for the opportunity, blah blah blah. Said he was going back to Detroit.”

Richard looked incredulous. “And no one thought to check up on him?”

“What’s to check up on?” Terry asked. “People are free to live their lives.”

“But…” Richard began.

Terry fixed him with a glare. “What? Do you know something about this?”

Richard was unable to hold back any longer. “I caught him selling drugs last night,” he blurted. “And I got him to confess on video. He’s the one that’s been stealing from the evidence vault.”

The officers exchanged concerned glances, then one of them chuckled. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.” They returned to standing in silence.

Richard was aghast. “I can’t believe this. Don’t you guys care?”

“Do you have any evidence aside from his verbal confession?” Terry grilled.

Richard shifted uncomfortably. “Well, no…”

“And who exactly recorded these confessions?”

“Um…some of my clients. Members of Harmony, and the Pelf Punks.”

Terry snorted. “Oh, great. Your star witnesses are members of anarchist cells.”

“I⁠–” Richard interjected.

“And if he’s gone back to Detroit, then he’s out of our jurisdiction. We’d have to extradite him, which is time-consuming and expensive.” Terry drew closer to Richard and looked him in the eye. “We just don’t have the resources to pursue it. He’s someone else’s problem now. And if what you say is true, I’m confident he’ll get served justice at some point. Just not by us.”

“Plus, there’s a downside you’re not considering,” an officer added. “The new captain isn’t much of an improvement over the old one.”

“Yeah,” another officer piped up. “We barely had the old one housetrained! Now we have to break in a whole new one.”

“And he didn’t seem very happy about getting promoted,” Terry revealed. “Maybe he was planning to leave in the near future. But now he’s stuck here for a while.”

This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

“But you asked me to do this! Remember, Terry? You wanted me to look into the thefts from the evidence vault! And I did!”

Terry winced and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re right, I did. Good work. Well done. Is that what you want to hear?”

Richard bowed his head and, after unscrewing the spill-top lid of his coffee mug, took a slug. The burning sensation momentarily distracted him from how unappreciated he felt.

Richard pouted. “Some days, I can just reach out and touch the irrelevance.”

One of the officers snorted. “Yeah, welcome to our world.”

They were all silent for a moment.

“You know,” Terry offered, “if what you say is true, I’m surprised you even survived your encounter. We should have found you laid out in a grimy alley or something.”

Richard shivered. “Yeah…about that. He threatened me with a knife. I expected him to just shoot me.”

“Captain Adeguti wasn’t authorized to carry a firearm,” Terry explained.

Richard’s brow wrinkled. “What? Why?”

Terry shrugged. “No idea. It was in his personnel file, but not explained. Probably a sealed injunction of some sort. A term of probation for a prior conviction or something. Who knows?”

Richard gaped. “And that didn’t strike you as odd?”

“Sure it did!” Terry retorted. “It’s unusual, but it’s not unheard of. And it wasn’t my place to dig into it. Everyone has their problems, Richard. If we only allowed saints on the police force, the building would be empty.”

“Yeah, Richard, it’s no big deal,” one officer concurred. “Given the circumstances, you should be grateful.”

They heard a vehicle pull up behind them; the coroner’s hearse had finally arrived.

“OK, little bro,” Terry piped up. “Time to make yourself scarce. You can talk to the coroner after the autopsies are done. Let us know if you figure anything out.”

Richard felt surly. “Are you sure you want me to figure it out?”

Terry fixed Richard with a hard glare. “Yes. I really want to know what you come up with. And like I said before…good work. Well done. I’ll send you payment for resolving the Adeguti case, OK?” He then turned away to greet the coroner’s lackeys.

The knot in Richard’s stomach had returned. He was long overdue for breakfast and a shower. Slowly, he turned away and walked back to his car. No one watched him leave.

He found a white piece of paper under his windshield wiper. Snatching it off, he saw it was a ticket with two violations – one for parking outside of the stall lines, and one for blocking an electric charging station. He looked once again at the nearby squad cars, which were parked similarly. He continued down the ticket and found his explanation. The first was a note in the comments section that said “You’ll never be one of us”. The second was the signature at the bottom; it was Captain Doyle’s.

Angrily, he flung his car’s door open; the expected wave of heat burst forth. Even at this early hour, as long as the sun was shining, the interior of cars would heat up dramatically. But along with the heat, Richard was blasted by something else, something unexpected…a pungent smell. Looking down at his front seat, he saw the grimy remains of an old breakfast burrito placed directly in the center. His stomach turned as the rancid odor made a second pass. Near it was a piece of paper; he picked it up and read it. “Don’t leave your doors unlocked.” The handwriting was a close match for Captain Doyle’s.

Richard swore under his breath as he gathered enough fast-food napkins from his glove compartment to wrap up the decayed corpse. He transported the whole mess to the nearest municipal trash receptacle, which was already overflowing with much worse refuse. Using a handful of clean napkins, and some of his precious percolated coffee, he washed the seat as well as he could. Despite his best effort, a patina of the interloper remained, along with its funk. It would have to do for now. He finally sat down in his hot car and switched on the ignition, then the air conditioning. The stink seemed worse now.

So much for his appetite.