4
A few minutes before 22.00, Detective 1st Grade Tom Lepski walked into the Detectives’ room to find Sergeant Joe Beigler, the doyen of the Paradise City police force, reading through the afternoon’s crime sheet, a carton of coffee at hand and cigarette dangling from his lips.
‘Hi, Tom,’ he said, glancing up.
‘Anything for me?’ Lepski asked, sitting at his desk. He liked the 22.00 to 04.00 stint. It came around once a week, and there was usually more action during that period than during other stints.
‘Nothing for you, Tom,’ Beigler told him. ‘The usual small time stuff. Mostly kids: car stealing, stealing from shops. Right now, it is quiet.’
Lepski snorted.
‘Sometimes, Joe, I wonder about staying in this goddamn city. Here I am, the best detective on the force, and I rarely get a chance to reveal my talents.’
Beigler concealed a grin.
‘You never know, Tom. Something could come up, and then you’ll be in business.’
‘I want a full-blooded killing. I want a snatch. I want a big break-in. Something to get my teeth into.’
Beigler had heard this so often, he winced.
‘I’m just going through the unwanted visitors’ list. I see Lucky Lucan is in town.’
Lepski released a snort that would have startled a bison.
‘That creep! Man! Would I like to nail him! Where’s he staying?’
‘At the Star Motel. He believes in doing himself well.’
‘I would like to put him away for ten years!’
‘Look, Tom, don’t waste your energy. Lucan has a gold-plated racket. He preys on old, rich women and swindles them. We can’t do a thing unless these stupid randy old women make a complaint. Can you imagine them doing that?’
Again Lepski snorted.
‘He could slip up. I’m going to watch him. If there’s one creep in this city who deserves to be tossed in the slammer, it’s Lucan.’
Beigler was getting bored with this. To change the subject, he asked after Lepski’s wife. ‘How’s Carroll?’
‘Ah!’ Lepski pushed his hat to the back of his head and gave a hoot of laughter. ‘I’ll tell you, Joe. This afternoon, Carroll said she was going to give me a chicken dinner, but first I had to cut the goddamn lawn and wash the goddamn car. So, okay. I like chicken: finger-licking on the spit: very tasty, but Carroll had found a new recipe. Where the hell she finds these disasters beats me. No chicken on the spit. She was going to treat me to a real dinner. She explained the recipe. You cut the goddamn bird into pieces. You put red wine in a saucepan. You add onions and God knows what, then you cook the chicken in this. She said it would be terrific. So, okay, I went along, but I’d rather have had a chicken on the spit. So I cut the lawn and washed the car, while she spent the whole afternoon in the kitchen with the radio going full blast and she singing. I must admit when I went into the kitchen – what a godawful mess it was in – the smell was terrific. Now, I did a stupid thing. We were out of beer and cigarettes, so I drove down and got the stuff. I ran into Max, and we got talking, so I didn’t get back for over an hour.’ Lepski heaved a sigh. ‘Carroll has two big problems. First TV. She will look and watch the little white dots on the screen if the set breaks down. She’s an addict. Then she can’t resist a telephone call. All her friends keep calling her. So when I get back, Carroll is yakking with some girl friend who is asking her advice about a pain in her turn. If there’s one thing that Carroll loves it’s talking about health problems. She reads every goddamn woman’s magazine published: specializing on the health section. She’s known by her friends as Dr Lepski. You ask her: she has the answer. So there’s Carroll yakking and smoke coming out of the kitchen.’
‘These things happen,’ Beigler said who liked Carroll.
‘You’re right. No chicken dinner. We had cheeseburgers.’ Lepski gave a chortle. ‘Carroll was upset. I told her to relax. I said, like you’ve just said, that these things happen. Then I got a shade too smart. While we were chewing these godawful cheeseburgers, I thought I’d try and cheer her up. I said it would be a great idea if I retired from the force, and both of us set up a restaurant. She’d do the cooking, and I’d act as the front man.’ He gave a bellow of laughter. ‘Well, Carroll fell for this. She asked me if I really was serious. I said we could give it a try, and I had a great name for the restaurant,’ Again he became convulsed with laughter. When he had recovered, he went on, ‘I said the restaurant should be called ‘The Burnt Offering’.’
Beigler clapped his hand over his mouth to prevent from laughing. Trying to look grave, he said, ‘I bet Carroll didn’t dig that.’
‘You’re right.’ Lepski again bellowed with laughter. ‘The Burnt Offering. Not bad, Joe?’
‘How did Carroll react?’ Beigler asked, knowing Carroll’s temper.
Lepski grimaced.
‘Well, you know Carroll. She blew her stack. Another of Carroll’s problems is she doesn’t share my sense of humour. She stormed out of the house, shouting she was leaving me forever, got in her car and went off like a rocket.’
Beigler, who loved the chance of pulling Lepski’s leg, put on a worried expression.
‘That’s bad, Tom.’
Lepski stiffened, then alarm showed on his face.
‘You don’t mean she meant it, do you, Joe?’
‘Well that kind of joke isn’t in good taste,’ Beigler said. ‘She didn’t pack her clothes?’
Lepski came out in a sweat. He wiped his face with his handkerchief.
‘She just rushed out.’
‘Of course, once she knew you were here on duty, she could be packing and will leave you for good.’
‘She wouldn’t do that,’ Lepski said, mopping his face. ‘We love each other.’
Beigler heaved a dramatic sigh and looked mournful.
‘Well, Tom, take the advice of an unmarried man. That was a heartless joke. If you don’t want to be in the dog-house for months, you’ve got to placate Carroll. You’ve got to explain it was a thoughtless joke, and you are ashamed of yourself. Then you back that up with flowers – long-stemmed roses – a big box of candy and a big bottle of her favourite perfume. Do that, and you could just get off the hook.’
Lepski gaped at him.
‘Flowers? Candy? Perfume? All that costs money, Joe.’
‘Oh, sure,’ Beigler said with a smug smile. He loved spending other people’s money, ‘but then, you’ve had your fun, so you have to pay for it. Now, Tom, when you come off duty, you drive to the airport and get the stuff and, when Carroll wakes up, she’ll find all that luxury waiting for her. Get the idea? You will tell her how sorry you are. My bet is she’ll forgive you and she’ll cook for you again.’
‘Flowers… candy… perfume,’ Lepski muttered. ‘Why can’t I keep my big mouth shut?’
He got to his feet and, with dragging steps, he left the Detectives’ room.
When Beigler was sure he was out of hearing, he exploded into a guffaw of laughter.
‘The Burnt Offering!’ he exclaimed. ‘I love it! This is too good to keep to myself! I must tell the boys! They’ll bust their guts!’
In a sour, vicious mood, Lepski drove to the Casino and parked. The Casino was a certain spot where action might happen. He felt in the mood to scare the crap out of the con-men and the card-sharpers who always frequented the Casino at this time. He hadn’t long to wait. He spotted Johnny Four Aces, a sleek Italian, whose reputation as a sharper was notorious. Lepski pounced on him and so frightened him, he returned to his car and drove away. Lepski found more successful pounces, scaring away more hopeful sharpers.
Then he saw Lucky Lucan come down the steps of the Casino.