“And what happens when I wake up in the middle of the night in excruciating agony? You going to come over my house with more pills?”
“Take a couple aspirins and drink a few beers.”
“Beer does not erase the pain, Vic.”
“It does for me. Especially when you mix it with whiskey.”
Frank lifted a pair of binoculars to his eyes and looked through them. The house was a stucco rancher with shutters hanging off the windows and trash scattered across the porch. There was a car in the driveway, but no signs of movement. “I’ve been to this house before,” he said. “They’re always having domestics.”
Vic nodded and yawned. “Just keep watching for a little while. Once we can confirm someone’s home, we’ll go in.”
“Hey, can you take me back to the station? I’ve gotta take a leak.”
“Hell no, we can’t break surveillance. What if we miss something?”
“Christ,” Frank grumbled.
“You still in touch with Hector’s wife?”
“Not really. I think in some ways she resents that I lived and he didn’t. I know she doesn’t mean to feel that way, but it’s the vibe I get.”
“Is that vibe coming from her or you?” Vic said.
“Her. Me. I don’t know.”
“If that were my wife, there wouldn’t be any bad vibes, believe me. She’d be happy as a clam.”
“Don’t say that,” Frank said.
“It’s true. All that insurance money they get for an officer killed in the line of duty? Kids go to school for free. It’s not a bad deal, really. Especially if you were smart enough to get a life insurance policy. I took out the maximum coverage when I had my first kid. If I take a bullet, they are going to be riding high.”
“Yeah, except you have to die for them to get it. You ever watched someone die, Vic? It’s not real pretty.”
Vic turned and looked at him, “Hey. Relax. I’m just making conversation here. No need to get excited.”
“Yeah, well I’m about to piss all over the seat.”
Vic picked up the empty coffee cup from the cup holder and said, “This is what real cops do. We improvise, adapt, and overcome. Remember?” Vic unzipped his fly and leaned up to lower himself into the cup. “Rule One of surveillance, never throw out your empty coffee cups. Hey, what are you, a fag? Don’t look.”
“Are you serious? Don’t do that.”
Vic held the cup at a forty-five degree angle and started peeing into it carefully so that he didn’t spill any. The cup filled to the brim and he said, “Christ! I hate this part!” He grunted and stopped peeing to empty the cup out of the window, then put it back under his lap and resumed. “Phew! Almost thought I wouldn’t make it.”
“You are disgusting,” Frank said.
“I told you not to look.”
“It smells like piss in here now. Can you at least get rid of the cup?”
“No way. That’s the piss cup now. Your turn.”
“Forget it,” Frank said.
“When you’re on a stakeout, you can’t just call a timeout to run back to the station and pee. Be a man and piss in the cup.”
“I don’t have to go anymore,” he said.
“It went away?” Vic said.
“No, it didn’t go away,” Frank mumbled. “I can’t pee in the cup. I’m pee shy.”
“Pee shy?” Vic said. “What does that mean? You can’t go?”
“Not if someone is near me. Not even if they talk to me.”
“What if I just look out the window?”
“It won’t work,” Frank said. “Can we please just go back to the station?”
“Look!” Vic said. He pointed over the dashboard at a man wearing a bathrobe who emerged from the house’s front door and put a bag of trash into a trashcan on the porch. “That’s Billy Helen.” They watched him go back inside. “You ready to go in?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Jesus. You are like working with a two year old,” Vic said. “Jump in the backseat and turn your back to me. I won’t say anything. Will that work?”
“I’ll try it.” Frank climbed into the back of the car and knelt on the back seat, facing the rear window. The neighborhood was a glorified trailer park, busy with people walking in and out of their houses who weren’t burdened by working a day job. Frank ducked low in the seat and unzipped his pants. He sighed with relief as water started hitting the bottom of his cup immediately.
“Hey, Frank?”
The sound stopped. Frank groaned and said, “God damn you, Vic! Shut the hell up!”
“Sorry, buddy. Just wanted to say I’m proud of you, and to keep up the good work.”
“So help me God, Vic, I will dump this cup on your seat.”
“Ok. I’ll be quiet. Honest. Starting now. Being quiet, here. Right now.”
“SHUT UP!”
They parked the car down the street and hurried across the lawn. Vic dropped a large toolbox under a tree and both men pulled their weapons, keeping them low to ground but ready if they needed to fire. “Sixty seconds, right?” Frank whispered.
“What?”
“For the knock and announce. You have to knock and state your purpose for being there, and if there’s no answer, we can go in after sixty seconds.”
Vic scowled at him and said, “Just watch my back, rookie.”
Frank took the corner of the house by the porch, keeping a low crouch, while Vic crept up the front steps. He bladed himself to the side of the door and knocked gently on the screen, keeping his back against the wall and staying out of view.
Vic smashed against the door with his fist several times, hammering it loud enough that a neighbor across the street peered through the window. Frank held up the badge around his neck and pressed his finger to his lips, waving for the person to go back inside. “Put that away,” Vic hissed.
“Who the hell’s banging on my door like that?” a male voice said from within.
“UPS,” Vic shouted through the door. “Package for Mr. Helen.”
The door opened and Billy Helen stepped onto the porch, scratching his behind and yawning until Vic stuck the barrel of his gun against Billy’s forehead. “Move and you’re dead.”
He grabbed Billy by the collar and yanked him away from the door, sticking his gun under Billy’s nose, using it to lift his whole head. “Keep your voice down. Who’s in there?”
“Nobody,” Billy said.
“Where’s your wife and kid?”
“Come on, man, they don’t have shit to do with this! Leave them out of it. Please, for God’s sake, I’m begging you, just take everything you want and go.”
“What’s everything?” Vic said.
“All of it. I’ve got two ounces of coke under the sink, a quap of weed, and a whole script of Percocet. It’s all yours if you take it and go before they get home. I’ll show you where it all is.”
“The coke’s under the sink?”
“Right,” Billy said.
“Where’s the rest of it?”
“The weed is in a shoebox on top of my closet and the Percocet is inside a baggie in my pillowcase. Listen, I’m being straight up with you. I’ll even get it for you. Just don’t hurt my family.”
“How about the money?” Vic said. “Where’s that?”
Billy’s eyes teared up and he said, “Come on, man. That’s not my money. It’s Paris’s. If you take that, I’m a dead man.”
Vic shrugged and said, “Have it your way.”
“Christ,” Helen muttered. “It’s under the dryer. Laid out in the tray.”
Vic nodded and said, “You did good, Billy.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the folded search warrant. “This is for you,” he said. Vic tucked the gun back in his holster and said, “Frank, keep Mr. Helen on the porch while I go search the premises.”