Rik's Blog

Chapter 1

“Christmas just isn’t Christmas when you have to work,” grumbled Joe.

“It sucks to pull overtime on holidays,” Mack agreed.

“It’s not fair, all those assholes out there getting drunk, or eating Chinese food and going to movies,” added Amy.

“Somebody has to do it, and the money’s good,” said Biff from the corner. “And Murphy’s working tonight, too, not just us.”

Their four faces glowed in the rotating squad car lights, but Joe turned toward the darkness. “It should be the Captain. Murphy does his best, but…” They all silently called to mind their exiled commander, stripped of his badge and gun, under review by Internal Affairs.

Nobody spoke for a minute; then Mack said, in a voice that failed to add the cheer it meant to, “Murphy put us together for a reason. He knows we’re straight cops–“

“Speak for yourself,” growled Amy.

“–and that the way we act supports Cap’s claim that the 5th isn’t crooked. That means we can’t complain, we can’t get sloppy, we have to be fucking angels.”

“But I hate that,” Joe moaned. “Like any of us became cops to be angels! I can’t even threaten to cut a perp’s balls off?”

“I don’t feel right having to leave my baby in her holster all the time,” Biff grumbled, running his hand gently over his service revolver.

“Yeah, and turning down free donuts? That oughtta be a sin,” chimed in Amy. “How does that help the Cap?”

Joe gave Mack a punch in the shoulder that failed to be playful. “Come on, Mack, free donuts. Murph can’t complain about that.”

“You want the Cap back or not? Everything has to be by the book. You think I like it? It fucking sucks. But we’re not a dirty precinct, and I won’t let them say we are.”

“If you knew the half of it,” howled Joe, “having a name like Marzetti, here in Little Italy, everyone just figures I’m a cop on the weekdays and mafia on the weekends. Like there’s no such thing as a law-abiding Italian.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Amy interjected, rolling her eyes, “try being a rookie, a woman, and a lesbian on the force. You wouldn’t make it one day–“

The radio crackled to life, and Mack and Amy pulled away, sirens blaring. Joe and Biff followed as backup. For the next hour they tested their new angelic attitude. Breaking up a fight, making two arrests, not pulling guns, doing the paperwork perfectly, and no free donuts. Back at the precint, reports filed, the four spied Acting Captain Murphy on their way out to hit the streets again.

“Glad to find you so ‘merry’ tonight,” he said to their scowling faces. It broke their mood and they snickered. “I just got off the phone with the Captain. He said to send you his love.”

That got a belly laught from Joe. Mack literally slapped his knee. Amy turned so no one would see her smile. “How’s he doing, though?” rasped Biff.

“He says it’s going to be a long while, and a hard fight. He’s not sure who they have as an accuser and why. But it’s bullshit and he’ll prove it’s bullshit. He says having good clean cops like you guys here helps a lot. It isn’t easy. In real life everybody cuts corners sometimes. You have to. But now we can’t. It’s not fair, but it means a lot, what you’re doing.”

“Now I can’t believe I made a big deal over donuts,” Amy said.

“We just have to act like we’re the good-guy cops on TV now,” Joe added.

Mack shook his head, “We’re not play-acting. We need to look at Cap, and Cap Murph, sir. Good cops who made it, without compromising. By the book.”

Murphy stroked his mustache and nodded.

In a kind of strangled whisper, Biff broke the silence. “Okay, are we going to stand here and sing fucking Christmas carols, or are we going to go out and keep these streets safe?”

***

Joe was the first one back at the precinct in the gray dawn of Christmas morning, quickly followed by his partner Biff, then Mack and Amy. “Our gift to you, this fine morning, Cap,” Joe pronounced to the tired-eyed Murphy, “is four collars caught clean, all by the book.”

Acting Captain Murphy stretched and cleaned his glasses as the group crowded around his desk. “I know the four of you want nothing more than to head home and hit the hay now, but the NYPD is sponsoring a meet-and-greet with Santa for homeless kids. Our precinct came up short on the present drive, so we have to provide ‘protection’ for the jolly old elf.”

They looked at each other. Joe let out a long breath. “We’d like nothing more, sir.”

“At least this way it’ll feel a little like Christmas,” Biff added.

“I bought a box of donuts. We probably should share them anyway,” Amy said, sticking out her lip.

Mack looked at the other three, younger cops. This was what it meant to truly protect and serve. “I’ll call home and tell them to open the presents without me.” He shrugged. “Happens every year.”

Murphy got up and put a hand on each shoulder in turn. “You’re the pride of the Fifth. Now get over to the Hummel Center before someone takes a shot at Saint Nick.”

The event uptown was surprisingly tense. Mack and Amy handed out presents, but a lot of the older kids seemed skittish to see uniformed cops there. Joe slouched behind Santa while Biff tried to comfort a small child who was crying because Santa was white. It was an ugly scene until Joe spied a teen boosting a whole sack of unopened boxes and heading for the door. “Who’s that?” he asked one of the shelter attendants.

“Oh, man, Hugo! Come back here,” the social worker shouted–the exact opposite of what Joe was looking for. The kid broke into a sprint, warned they were onto him, and Joe raced after.

What followed was a five act play of cat-and-mouse through the packed crowds of Midtown holiday cheer. It took all four of them to keep eyes on him, past the lines in front of Radio City Music Hall, past the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree and skating rink, around the tourists looking up and pointing. It was important to stay calm, not cause a panic, not even tip over anyone’s hot spiced cider on the way past. But it was just as important not to let Hugo ruin Christmas.

Finally they got him surrounded, closed in, and Mack grabbed him tightly by the arm. “Look kid, I know it’s rough.” Amy secured the bag of presents while the older cop kept talking: “But don’t take it out on the rest of the kids. It’s Christmas, so I’m letting you off with a warning this time.”

Biff reached into the bag and picked out a single, wrapped present and shoved it against Hugo’s chest. “There you go. Happy holidays from the NYPD.”

It was only then they noticed the crowd of sightseers around them had been focused on their little drama. There was applause, hooting and hollering. Biff blushed a little while Amy waved to the crowd. When they turned again, Hugo had slunk away.

By the time they returned the last of the gifts to the Hummel Center, buses were starting to take the kids back to their shelters. The social worker thanked them and told them it was fine to leave.

“My fridge is empty except for a case of Budweiser,” Biff offered, “but you’re welcome to crash there if you don’t want to go home.” Biff’s apartment was only a block from the station house. It was ridiculous he could afford it; the rest of them lived in Jersey (except Amy, who lived far out in Queens), but it was technically still in his grandmother’s name, and under serious rent control.

“Shit,” Amy moaned, “We’re on again in like four hours.”

Mack shrugged. “By the time I get home and kiss the wife, hug the kids, I’ll have to turn right back around. May as well ditch ’em. Happens every year.”

Joe clutched his stomach. “I’m starving. Can we get take out on the way?”

“I just want to sit down,” Amy chimed in. “Let’s get there and get delivery.”

It was lights and sirens to get back to the Fifth and turn in the squad cars as quick as possible. Then up three flights to Biff’s place. As Biff was unlocking the three deadbolts, the door across the hall opened and a dark-headed woman stuck her head out. “Hey?” she waved at them.

Biff turned. “Uh, hi. Lori, isn’t it?”

The woman nodded. “Yeah. Listen, this might sound weird, but my dad ordered way too much food for us, and you guys really look beat. You want some?”

And that was how the four of them ended up eating Zabar’s roast turkey with chestnut stuffing, garlic mashed potatoes and gravy, string beans with almonds, cranberry sauce, rolls with lots of butter, and cheesecake before heading back in to pull another shift.

Chapter 2

“You’re not wearing that on a date?” Mack barked at Joe in the precinct locker room. “You look like you’re going to the gym.”

“I met her at the gym,” Joe shrugged. “I don’t care what she’s wearing. Why should she care what I wear?”

“Jesus, Joe. I’ve been married fifteen years so I don’t know much about dating, but even I know she’s gonna care what you’re wearing. That’s what women do.“

“Come on, Mack, I’m not looking to get married here.”

“But you’re looking to get lucky, right? That means you have to impress. And it’s New Year’s Eve, you can’t blow this off.”

Joe rolled his eyes, but he could tell Mack was not giving this up. “Fine.”

“You have to do this for me, Joe. Some of us don’t get to play the field anymore.”

“What do I have to wear in order to impress?”

“I’ll take you to Brooks Brothers. They have the shirts that button at the collar, you’ll see.”

As it turned out, Joe’s date was dressed like she was going to the gym. She bowed out after appetizers. Joe, in his stupid button-collar shirt, stomped back to Biff’s apartment, up the three flights of worn wooden steps, hoping Biff had bought a new case of Bud to replace the one they’d drunk at Christmas. But no amount of knocking brought Biff to the door. Maybe he was out. Joe slumped on the floor of the hallway, holding his head in his hands, cursing under his breath.

And that was when he noticed that Lori across the hall had opened her door and poked her head out.

Joe blanched. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were there,” he stammered.

“Don’t mind me, stay if you like,” Lori laughed.

“Okay.”

Lori came out in the hall and sat next to Joe. She pointed to his wingtip shoes. “Trying out a new style?”

Joe grunted.

“From fifteen years ago?” Lori’s laugh tinkled like bells.

That made Joe finally crack a smile. “Thanks again for the Christmas dinner.”

“No problem. Like I said, my dad ordered way too much.”

“Glad I’m not the only one alone on New Year’s Eve.”

“Hey, I’m not alone. I have a bottle of wine,” Lori pouted.

“Rude of you not to introduce us,” Joe remarked.

“Sorry, forgot my manners. You want to come in?”

“Why, when it’s so comfortable out here?”

Lori laughed again, and tripped gracefully into her apartment, reappearing momentarily with a bottle of white wine and two jelly jars. “Good to see you get one holiday off.” She poured and they clinked glasses.

“I forgot my manners, too. Joe Marzetti, your humble servant.”

“Ah, yes, literally a servant of the public. Lori Bozidar, grad student.”

“Oh, an intellectual!”

“Only for lack of other ambition. Though I may have bit off more than I can chew writing this dissertation.”

“I write a bit myself. Working on a screenplay. I know that’s cliche.”

“So the cop thing is just a side gig?”

“I like helping people. But my brain is always buzzing with what’s the real story behind all the people I meet.”

“Oh my God, I do that too! You want to know what I thought was the story with the four of you at Christmas?”

“Please tell!”

“Well, there’s the older one–“

“Mack.”

“And Mack’s obviously close to retiring. ‘Getting too old for this,'” she said in her best Danny Glover voice. “He’s training the rest of you to be good cops. Amy’s the bitchy one, but with a heart like melted butter. And you and Biff are the closeted gay couple–” she broke into hysterical laughter while Joe just shook his head ruefully.

They continued chatting, thick as thieves, until the bottle was finished. “It’s funny,” Joe said, “I feel like we’ve somehow known each other all our lives.”

“All I know is, I’ve been missing out,” Lori responded.

Joe glanced down at his phone. It was almost midnight. And then Lori was close to his face, and then they were kissing. And then his phone buzzed. He broke away from Lori and looked down. Mack had texted two thumbs up and a question mark.

“This has been nice, but I’ve got to get back to Jersey.”

“Yes, this hallway is a little cold. You could still come in.”

“You’re very kind. But you’re a little drunk, and let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“Rude,” Lori said, breaking into a grin. She looked very pleased with herself. “Enjoy your evening, Officer Marzetti.”

“And you as well, Ms. …”

“Bozidar. It’s the Slavic equivalent of Theodore, if that helps.”

“It really doesn’t. Goodnight.”

Of course Mack and Biff and Amy wanted to hear about the date. Joe took the opportunity to mock Mack’s advice, but Mack merely maintained that Joe’s choice of girl was “low class.” Then Joe briefly descibed his encounter with Biff’s friendly neighbor. “I don’t believe anyone enjoyed New Year’s Eve more than we did, even though we didn’t really do anything at all.”

Chapter 3

“Back to the grind,” Mack said.

Biff nodded: “Holidays over, smooth sailing till summer.”

“Without all this overtime, I can finally get back to writing,” Joe commented.

“I have to get back to studying my Arabic, and for the sergeant’s exam,” Amy added.

“Whaddya want to move up the ranks for so fast,” Biff asked. “Are the rest of us so bad to hang with?”

“I want to get one of those peach positions where you infiltrate terrorist networks, spy gear and dead drops and all that stuff.”

“Without all this overtime, it’s just less money and more time at home with a pack of crazy midgets.” Mack groused. “They don’t want me around there, I have to go the the shooting range to get any peace.”

“So no rush to retirement? No ‘Gettin’ too old for this’?” Joe asked.

“No way, I’m sticking it out, what gave you the idea?”

“Nothing. Just everybody seems to want something different.”

Biff grimaced. “Isn’t there anything we can do for the Captain? If he were here, nobody’d be eager to leave, right? Whether it’s family or Hollywood or the Middle East, or whatever. Like the Fifth isn’t good enough for you.”

That was the remark Joe couldn’t quite get out of his head all day, as he and Biff worked their beat, answered calls, collared perps and did the paperwork. And that was why he decided he had to go see Lt. Marsh.

Marsh had been the Captain’s partner, back in the old days, before they both rose up through the ranks. They’d both been successful in their own ways, though the Cap had always been squeaky clean and Marsh had been–well, you could say he’d been more popular with the rank and file and leave it at that. Joe called him up and asked if they could talk. He told Marsh he was writing a screenplay and said nothing about trying to clear the Captain’s name. He wanted to play his cards close to the vest.

On one of his days off, Joe drove up to Westchester County. Lt. Marsh had a huge, sprawling house with a pool beside it. Joe wondered if a legit pension and a career’s worth of overtime could possibly pay for such a spread. The retired cop met him at the door in a cloud of cigar smoke. Marsh did not offer him one as he led him into the “library,” a room devoid of books with a pool table in the center and flat-screen TVs on every wall flashing different sports channels.

“Sure I can tell you about Cap,” Marsh growled, “But tell me everything you know first. Every bit of dirt and dish from the Fifth, and anywhere else you know.” He picked up a cue stick and lined up a shot on the table, also pointedly not offerering Joe one. “It pains me to be out of the loop, you see.”

Later, Joe told the rest of his crew about the visit: “That man’s a piece of garbage. I just can’t see Cap and him working together for even a day. Every tidbit I told him about, he followed up with the most insanely racist commentary.”

Mack waved it away, “That’s just old-school NYPD. Be thankful everybody’s not like that now. When I came on the force … I could tell you stories. Anyway, as Murphy says, we should be happy just to have what we have now.”

“I hope you kept your cool,” Amy added. “People like that, you just have to act out a part. My teacher says ‘Yes, and’ is just as useful in real life as in improv.”

Biff chuckled, “So you’re on to acting lessons now?”

Amy scowled. “Don’t laugh. I’m not trying to get on Broadway. But if I’m going to go undercover I have to train for it.”

“Anyway,” Joe cut in pointedly, “I suffered through all his bullshit, and then he gave me an hour long lecture on the way things used to be. It was torture.”

“What did he say about the Cap, though?” Biff pressed.

“Only that he had some information, but he wasn’t ready to share it. ‘It’s the last bargaining chip I have left to protect myself’ he said. ‘You understand.’ I understand he’s a fucking dirty cop and he knows what’s going on on the inside.” Joe fumed.

Amy shook her head. “You gotta make him trust you. You go in there looking for Hollywood stories, he’s not going to give you the real scoop.”

“It gave me a headache just listening to him talk for ten minutes. I don’t think you’d do any better,” Joe said coldly.

“Maybe not,” Amy sighed. “I’m not ready to go on stage myself yet. One of the funniest women in my class went to an open mic and we all went and watched her bomb. I always used to wish I was her, but I would not have traded places with her that night.”

“Ugh, I’d trade places with just about anyone right now,” Mack sighed. “At least bombing on stage is quiet. Screaming children is the worst noise, and mine never seem to shut up.”

“Cheer up, Joe,” Biff said as they headed back to their squad car. “I saw Lori the other day as I was heading into our building. She didn’t see me. There’s an old panhandler out on the sidewalk, no matter how cold it gets. She’d brought him down a mug of coffee and a plate of pancakes. What a woman, always trying to feed the world.”

Chapter 4

“What the hell are you doing?” Mack asked, pointing at Joe’s snow shovel. “This building has a super, you know.”

“Going out for exercise,” Joe said, pulling on a woolen cap. “Don’t want to get soft and doughy like some people.”

Mack and Amy were on Biff’s couch, watching the playoffs. Biff had gone to the bodega for more beer. And Joe had dug around Biff’s closets and found a snow shovel, without questioning why it was there. Most of Biff’s apartment was filled with the china and doilies of his grandmother. The rest was empty beer cans and gun magazines. It made an interesting contrast.

The sidewalk outside was coated in a thick layer of white snow punctuated with icy footprints made by all the previous passersby. Joe worked up a sweat clearing it all off, and was just taking off his hat when Biff came up the street, walking oddly.

At the stoop, Biff put down his case of beer and opened his coat just enough to show a little orange kitten lodged inside. “The bodega cat had kittens, I couldn’t say no,” Biff shrugged.

At the top of the stairs, Joe knocked on Lori’s door. When she poked her head out he immediately regretted it. Her nose was red, her eyes were swollen, and she was wearing a fuzzy bathrobe and slippers. “Oh hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were sick or I wouldn’t have–” he gestured back at Biff, who looked over with concern. “Never mind. You get back in bed.”

“No, I’m okay,” Lori said through a stuffy nose. “I was up anyway, making tea. What is it?”

“I was just going to enlist your help in trying to convince Biff that he is in no way prepared to take care of a little kitten.” Joe grabbed the mewing animal which was fighting to free itself from Biff’s peacoat.

“Oh my God,” Lori laughed. “You’d better let me have him. You’re never home, silly!” she directed at Biff. “Bring him in, and you can make me that tea,” she told Joe.

Joe got Lori ensconced in a squishy chair, and then noticed how out-of-sorts the apartment looked. “How long have you been sick?”

“A couple of days.” Then she caught his drift. “Oh, this? I admit, I’m not much of a housekeeper.”

“Well I’m make some tea and then you can play with the cat while I do some picking up. You’ll feel better knowing it’s not hanging over your head.”

“Thanks for doing this,” Lori said, nuzzling the kitten while Joe gathered up all the dishes and took them to the sink. The kitchen was just on one end of the living room, so he started washing up while they talked.

“If you ever need a hand, just come across the hall,” he told her. “If I’m not there, tell Biff. If he’s not there, leave a note. We’re not strangers, we’re neighbors. It could never be a bother.” He said all this with his back to her, afraid to look her in the eyes.

“You’re right. And you should knock anytime you like, too. Now I’m going to have to come over and clean for you.”

“No. Listen, there’s no owing each other anything. You need something I can help with, I will, and likewise the other way, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Now, tell me about yourself. Your father doesn’t live with you, obviously.”

“He’s out on Long Island and doesn’t get into the city much anymore. It’s just me by myself most days, all day. So a cat will be great.”

“I thought you said you were in school?”

“I’m done with all the class-taking. Just writing my dissertation. I teach one day a week, but mostly it’s all research and writing.”

“You don’t make it sound like much fun. You should get out more.”

“What about you?” Lori retorted, turning redder. “You find fighting crime fun?”

“It’s a living,” he shrugged. “But I wouldn’t take the opportunity to write all day so lightly.”

“You might if it were dry academics and a book-length essay on ‘the Jewish Voice and the Evolution from Opera to Musical Theatre.’ I wanted to be an actor, but it turns out I have stage fright.”

Joe laughed. “Still, it doesn’t sound as boring as you think it does.”

“Well I did choose it because I liked it, but having to hold up and analyze every little detail … well, it’s not screenplays. It’s not really working in theater, it’s just working around theater.”

Now Joe’s face turned pink. “I haven’t sold anything yet.”

“Well if you ever need a reader, I’m sympathetic but constructively critical.”

“I’ll keep it in mind, now drink your tea before it gets cold.”

***

Lori invited them all out to her father’s house on Long Island. It took a while to coordinate schedules and to convince Biff that meeting someone new wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. He almost turned around and headed back when he saw the size of the house.

Joe hoped this wasn’t going to be a Lt. Marsh situation. Just because someone was rich, after all, didn’t necessarily mean they were going to lord it over you. At least this is what he told Biff.

Everyone liked Lori, though, so they came in for her sake. And Mr. Bozidar turned out to be friendly enough, though sharp toward his daughter. While she was out of the room, arranging lunch, he huddled up to them and said, “Would you like to see the shooting range I have in the basement? I taught Lori to shoot when she was a girl, but she never took to it.”

They eagerly followed him down a gilt-railed marble staircase, past a full bar that would be the envy of any Manhattan hotel, into an armory that could front a revolution in any number of small countries. They ended up firing off hundreds of rounds from dozens of different firearms.

Eventually Lori brought down sandwiches. She shook her head at them, smiling. “I knew you’d end up getting along,” she said ruefully. Everyone hungrily dove into the cold cuts except Biff. “I’m sorry, I can’t help myself!” he said, grinning like a kid in a candy store with a hundred-dollar bill.

Later they took a walk around the grounds, everyone chatting and laughing with a drink in hand. Biff sulked a little ways behind them, but he cheered up when Mr. Bozidar took him aside and said: “Come back any time, son. I never go anywhere anymore, and you don’t even have to stop in and say hello. Just come practice your aim, I’m happy if my toys get played with.”

All through the spring, Biff spent every day off out on Long Island. And while Joe drove the squad car, Biff squinted down into his lap and fiddled with sticks and yarn. “I’m knitting Lori’s dad a pair of socks,” he explained. “I’d buy him a bottle of Scotch, but there’s nothing I can get him that he can’t afford something twice as nice.”

“I didn’t know you could knit,” Joe said gravely.

“Well, I used to watch my grandma, and she left all her supplies, so I’m trying to work it out from watching YouTube.”

“Isn’t a sock supposed to be foot shaped?”

Eventually the socks were done, and at least mostly foot-shaped. Biff left them for Lori’s father on the hall table by the front door the next time he visited. Not long afterward, Lori knocked on his door holding a large cardboard box. Amy and Mack were watching basketball, and Joe was plugging away at a script on his laptop, but they all crowded around to watch Biff open the package. “Oh my God,” Biff gasped. “It’s the .45 Luger!” He cradled the pistol as if it were made of delicate foil. “They only made two of these, and one was lost. Only a few people in the world have ever had the opportunity to fire one.”

“Dad said to keep it as long as you want,” Lori said. She shook her head. “There are some things I’ll never understand. But I’m glad the two of you found each other.”

Chapter 5

“Lori’s a horse of a girl, isn’t she?” Amy remarked to Joe one day.

“What do you mean by that?” Joe responded quizzically. “She’s hardly brawny, she’s got delicate features…”

“Oh my God, you like her, don’t you?” Amy laughed. “I just meant I could ride her all night.”

Joe rolled his eyes. “You are the crudest person I know.”

Amy sniffed. “Just trying to fit in around here.”

“What do you mean?” Mack interjected with a concerned look on his face.

“Detective Davis just told me he was going to put his pickle in me,” Amy said, looking away.

“What?” they all cried.

“He said it would fit right in, because I’m such a sourpuss.”

“Ugh, if Cap were here, he’d kick that asshole off the force,” Mack said.

“Tell Murph, he’ll have to do something,” Biff encouraged.

“It’s no big deal, just gross,” Amy waved away. “It’s so stupid it’s not worth worrying about.”

But it became a coordinated campaign. A pickle jar showed up in Amy’s locker every week. Photocopies of Amy’s ID photo with “Officer Sourpuss” appeared in the break room. It was as relentless as it was childish. There were Sour Patch Kids, there were limes and lemons and vinegar. Finally Amy could take no more. She went to the Acting Captain.

“This is the textbook definition of sexual harrassment. I don’t have to take this.”

Murphy stroked his mustache. “I’m sorry this is happening to you, I really am. But if you report this, it’s going to reflect on the Fifth.”

“Fine, I don’t care about reporting it. Just make it stop.”

“I can transfer you somewhere else,” Murph offered, avoiding her eyes.

“Don’t punish me! Transfer him.”

Murphy shook his head ruefully. “The only way I can do that without his permission is to promote him. Like I said, I’m sorry.”

Amy slammed her fists agains the Captain’s desk. Her eyes squinted up and her face reddened. But she took a deep breath and said, “Fine. Let him win. Just get rid of him.”

Later on, when recounting the affair at Biff’s, Lori commented, “You cops always are butting heads with each other, it’s like you enjoy fighting. It seems like there’s just one cop in the whole world who keeps their head down and tries to just help whoever needs help.”

Biff said, “Let’s call that guy. Maybe he can give us some advice.”

Joe just laughed and thumped Lori on the back. “Like a horse indeed,” he muttered to himself.

***

Mack, meanwhile was having troubles of his own. While his kids were at his parents’ house for spring break, his in-laws had arranged for a cruise for all the adults in the family. “It’s gonna be great,” Mack rubbed his hands together. “Jan will be busy with her sisters, so I can just lie around the pool, hit the buffets, and drink like a fish.”

“A real vacation!” Joe marvelled.

“And the weather’s supposed to be lovely,” Biff added.

“There’s got to be a catch,” Amy huffed. “Somehow you’re going to turn out to have a terrible time.”

“You just wish you could come with me,” Mack teased. “I’ll see all you losers in two weeks!”

“Do you have formal wear when you have to dress for dinner? ‘Black tie’ means something very specific, you know,” Joe noted.

“I’m taking my dress uniform. If anyone gets bent out of shape, I’ll arrest ’em. I’m not buying a tux for a stupid cruise.”

Of course, when Mack returned, it turned out Amy had been right after all.

“We made friends with our table-mates right away. But later I overheard them gossiping about how low-class we were, and how I probably beat up black people for fun. I was getting ready to punch them, but then I got a text from Lori asking about how the cruise was going. I would’ve felt bad having to report back that I was starting fights.”

“Were the buffets at least worth it?” Biff asked.

“When I got to them. Jan wanted me to play bridge with her or shuffleboard with her dad or go to the awful evening entertainment–it was just constant. I barely had a minute to myself!”

“She just didn’t want you ogling the ladies sitting by the pool,” Amy said confidently.

“Yeah,” Mack sighed, looking wistfully into the distance as if still at sea. “I guess I’m just not cut out for the cruising lifestyle.”

Captain Murph came by and slapped him on the back. “Cut out the chitchat and get out there or you’ll see if you’re cut out for the unemployed life!”

Chapter 6

“Where are you going?,” asked Amy, coming into Lori’s apartment uninvited one Saturday afternoon and finding Joe and Lori getting ready to go out.

“Never mind. Don’t ask questions,” returned Joe sharply.

Amy bristled visibly. “Can I come along?” she asked Lori, who looked away shyly.

“Can’t get another ticket, sorry,” Joe shrugged, “Been sold out for months.”

“You asshole,” Amy growled and pulled Joe out into the hallway alone. “You know she’s in love with you,” she hissed at him. “And you treat her like a toy on your arm. You may be loving the attention, but if you’re not serious you have to tell her that.”

Lori came out into the hall with her purse and Joe’s jacket. “You could come and see if we can get a scalped ticket,” she said kindly to Amy.

“She’s just trying to get my goat, she doesn’t really want to come,” Joe answered.

As they walked down the creaking stairs, Amy muttered over the bannister, “You’ll be sorry for this, Joe Marzetti.”

At the show, Joe kept glancing over at Lori. Amy did have a point, maybe Lori was too into him to protect herself. Then he shrugged. They were both adults, and there was time to play this out.

But when Joe got up the next morning, at Amy’s, and sat down at his laptop over coffee to wrestle with the third act of his screenplay, the file was gone. Both locally and in the cloud. And from his backup file. The computer had been here the whole time, and Biff had Lori’s spare key just hanging on the wall. “You asshole,” echoed in his head.

He called Amy’s cell.

“It’s Sunday morning, asshole,” she answered groggily.

“Where’s my screenplay?”

There was only guilty silence from the other end.

“My God, I’ve been slaving away for months on it. Tell me you saved a copy somewhere!”

She hung up on him.

***

After that, Joe wouldn’t speak to Amy. He barely saw Mack, since he and Amy were partners, and he barely spoke to Biff, since Biff thought they should just make up and get past it. When Amy tried to apologize, Joe walked away. The space between Lori and Biff’s doors seemed like a thousand miles now.

“So we just have to stop being friends with all of them now?” Lori asked.

Joe said nothing, just typing away on his new screenplay. The old one had been derivative garbage anyway. This new idea was better.

“I mean, I’ll follow your lead,” Lori said, “but it seems a little foolish to give up on the people who love you most in the world.”

Joe tried to block her words out of his head. He shoved aside Mr. Pip (which is what Lori named the cat), who was trying to sit on his keyboard.

“Don’t you want to go skating one more time while the rink is still open?”

“Would you just let me write?” Joe shouted. He picked up his coffee mug and threw it against the floor, shattering bits of china into the far corners of the room. And then he felt awful. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, getting on his hands and knees and picking up the shards. When he had gathered up all he could, he closed the laptop and rushed out, heading back to New Jersey.

***

Joe was driving the squad car, sitting in silence with Biff, when the radio squawked to life “10-999 on car 1868, Bowery and Hester.”

“That’s Mack and Amy!” Biff shouted, going bolt upright.

They were on the scene in sixty seconds. Mack was there, waiting for backup, in front of an abandoned building. It looked like an old shopping arcade, part boarded up, part burned out. “Perp ran in, Amy went after him. Her radio’s out.”

What she’d done was totally against protocol, but also something every hotheaded rookie did at some point. Joe, Biff, and Mack went in, covering each other slowly, checking every door and corner, flashlights and guns pointing in every direction. Every room was a litter of peeling plaster and decomposing cardboard boxes. Rats scuffled away from them.

A maze like this, Joe thought, would be easy for the perp to get away. But would also be easy for a perp with a gun to get the drop on a gung-ho cop not taking precautions.

And then they started seeing fresh blood droplets on the floor.

“Amy!” Joe yelled, his throat on fire.

Mack gave him a look. He knew he shouldn’t be drawing attention to their position, but he didn’t care. “AMY!”

“Joe?” a voice came back weakly.

He shrugged off the danger and ran to her. She was leaning against a wall, barely upright, holding her side; there was blood everywhere. “I got him, but he tagged me,” she said. “Can’t find my way out.”

“It’s okay, we got you,” Joe said, putting his arms around her.

***

Later, going over what had happened in Captain Murphy’s office, Joe nearly broke down. “I could have lost her, boss. We were fighting and I was angry, and if she … and I wasn’t …”

“But you went in and got her, no matter how you were feeling. That says something,” Murph replied.

“But it makes me think, with my temper and my pride, am I even cut out to be a cop?”

“Come on, you know there’s lots worse cops than you,” said the acting captain, tugging at his whiskers.

“Yeah, but if I’m not one of the good ones, I need to leave.”

“Listen,” Murph said, squatting next to Joe’s chair. “In my forty years on the force, there hasn’t been a single day I haven’t had to struggle with my temper.”

“Come on,” Joe shook his head. “I’ve never even heard you raise your voice.”

“Only because I keep my mouth shut. My first instinct when I see someone doing something stupid–and I see it every day, believe me–is to yell at them or say something mean. But with practice I’ve learned to let the moment pass.”

Joe sighed. “Then I guess maybe there’s hope for me yet. How did you get so good at it.”

“Your Cap’s the one who trained me and taught me everything I know. That’s why it’s so important we prove his innocence.”

“Yes!” Joe said, jumping up and knocking Murphy backwards. “There’s got to be more we can do. You’re an inspiration, boss, but we have to get the Captain back.”

Joe got to the hospital just as Amy was being discharged, all bandaged up. “Listen, Amy. I’m sorry. We were both being childish. Can we go back to how things used to be?”

She didn’t say a word back, but the smile on her face told him everything he needed to know.

Chapter 7

“Sounds like what you need is more evidence, more leads,” Lori said, pacing back and forth across Biff’s living room. Mack and Amy sat on the couch, listening intently. Joe was sprawled on the floor, taking notes. Biff was listening from the kitchen, clattering pans.

“All the files are locked down tight by Internal Affairs,” Mack pointed out.

“Then you need new tips, working from outside the system. What if we had a drop box here, on our building? And then spread the word?” Lori had become a regular fixture at Biff’s during Amy’s medical leave, and she knew so much about their business she was half cop herself now.

“Spread the word how?” Biff asked, bringing over a plate of warm chocolate chip cookies.

“We could get on the neighborhood message boards online,” Joe suggested.

“And post anonymous fliers at bodegas,” Amy added.

“What about this Lieutenant Marsh?” Lori asked. “It sounded like he had something.”

“We can’t go back to him until we figure out what kind of leverage we need,” Mack said. “He wants a quid pro quo.”

“And we don’t have a quid,” Joe added.

“Well, we do have a drop box,” Lori said. “The landlord used to have us put the rent in, down by the subway grates. You probably never noticed it. Before your time.”

“Oh, I wondered what that was,” Amy noted.

“When they went to online payment, I forgot a couple of times and had to keep fishing my checks out. The super ended up just giving me the key.”

“So we can get started right away!” Mack exclaimed.

“I’ll make copies so you can each have your own key. Joe, do you have the fliers made up yet?”

“Just about! We’re going to crack this case wide open thanks to you, Lori.”

***

But new leads were slow to come by, and most of the notes dropped into the box were from Lori, trying to keep their spirits up. Summer came; Amy’s arm was good as new, Mack’s kids went to camp. They hauled out a huge chugging window air conditioner that kept a few square yards of Biff’s apartment from being a complete sweat box. Joe even got another racist earful from Lt. Marsh, but no new information. Morale hit a new low.

“I’m having a party,” Lori told them. “Your attendance is non-negotiable.”

There were groans all around. No one was too keen on opening their little social circle very wide.

“Nothing big,” she explained. “I have a friend flying in from London over the Fourth, so I have to do something. Just a little cookout on the roof and watching the fireworks. You’ll like Fern. You’ll like all my friends–there aren’t many.”

“Sound like casual dress,” Mack noted. “We could do Hawaiian shirts.”

“Please don’t make this a fashion thing,” Joe groaned. “Hey,” he noticed Biff was white as a sheet.

“Uh,” Biff gulped. “Let me do the grilling. That way I won’t have to talk to anyone.”

“As long as you don’t do your grilling in the interrogation room,” Lori laughed.

“You should bring them to my improv show, too,” Amy pointed out.

When the day of the party arrived, they all showed up at Biff’s first.

“You’re not wearing that ratty Mets cap, Joe,” Mack scolded.

But there wasn’t time to do any further preparation, because Lori brought the party to them.

“This is my friend, Fern Vaughn, from across the pond,” Lori said, presenting a bright-eyed redhead.

“‘Ello, guv’nor, wotcher names now?” she pressed them antically.

“Oim Ehmee, this here’s Mock, Joe, and Biff,” Amy replied, matching Fern’s outrageous accent. Then they collapsed into laughter and started speaking normally.

“This guy’s name’s Beth?” Fern asked in a smooth British accent.

“No, it really is Biff,” Amy replied in American.

“I guess we’ve lost them,” Lori shrugged. “But here, let me introduce everyone else. Here’s Kate, Ned, Sal, and Brooke. Meet Mack, Joe, Biff, and … Amy, over there with Fern.”

Biff quickly retreated to the roof to get the charcoal lit. Everyone else acquired a few cold drinks before braving the broiling tar roof. They drunkenly tried to play crocquet, but the roof was not at all flat, and every shot took a slow curving path before ending up in a Sargasso slump in near the street edge. It was no matter: soon Fern and Amy were play-fighting with the mallets while Joe and Ned tried to rig up a tarp as a sun shield.

Meanwhile Mack found himself embroiled in conversation with Brooke, who seemed to be much older than Lori’s other friends. “How do you two know each other?” he asked, pointing between Lori and the woman he was speaking to.

“She was in one of my psychology courses at NYU. Not the best student, but a very bright conversationalist. She kept coming to office hours and we became friends.”

“Oh, you’re a professor?”

“Not anymore. I’m back in private practice. I missed helping people more directly. And you?”

“I’m a cop.”

“No, I meant how do you know Lori.”

“Ah, well. Biff–the guy over there at the grill. His apartment’s across the hall. He and I work together, and we hang out a lot at his place.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you Mack. I think we’re in the same line of work: studying the problems of human behavior and trying to solve them.”

“That’s a very elegant way to put it,” Mack said, cracking a bit of a smile.

After consuming burgers and various sausages and quite a bit more alcohol, Lori forced them to play charades, but after one round everyone rebelled. As it started to get dark, the air above them cooled considerably while the roof below them still radiated a baking heat. “Maybe we’re too old for Truth or Dare,” Fern proposed loudly, “But we should at least play Truth.”

“And if we catch you in a lie, we’ll give you a dare after all,” Amy added.

“Lori, you go first, as host. Anybody ask.”

“Which guy here do you think is handsomest?” Sal proposed.

“Mack,” Lori replied. “He’s always such a snappy dresser.”

“But who here do you like best,” Fern asked.

“Joe, of course,” she shrugged.

“You can come up with better questions,” Joe spurted out.

“Fine,” said Fern. “You answer next. What’s your worst quality?”

“My temper.”

“Who are your biggest heroes?” Amy asked.

“My mom and Christopher Columbus.” There was a deep silence. “Come on, I’m Italian! Cut me some slack.”

Lori jumped in: “And what do you want most in the world?”

“Easy. A new air conditioner for Biff’s apartment.”

“Be serious, Joe. The name of the game is Truth.”

“Fine,” Joe sighed. “What I want most is that spark of creative genius. That would let the writing flow, that people could see, and there’d be this communication between me and the audience and–what?”

Everyone was staring at him.

“We caught you in a lie!” Amy pointed, with an evil giggle. “You have to do a dare.”

They made poor Joe strip to his boxers and sing the Star Spangled Banner. Just as he finished, as if on cue, the fireworks over the East River began booming and blooming low in the sky, behind all the buildings to the east. But even with an obstructed view, it was a glorious evening.

Chapter 8

As the summer continued, they began to get a trickle of leads in the drop box to investigate. But it was hard to find the time, since they had to do it unofficially, outside of working hours. Mack was trying to spend more time at home, with his wife and kids. Amy had performances, Biff had shooting practice with Lori’s father, and Joe was hard at work on his screenplay.

And then Acting Captain Murphy went on vacation for two weeks.

“We can hold things together while you’re gone, no problem,” Mack assured him. “Rest easy.”

“No need to have some Lieutenant from Staten Island or somewhere come up thinking he can boss us around,” Joe agreed.

“Of all the luck for this to happen while Lori’s on vacation, too!” Biff exclaimed.

Amy snorted. “It’s not the end of the world. We can stagger our shifts and cover everything. Don’t worry about it.”

But as it turned out, Captain Murphy did rather a lot besides sit at his desk and give avuncular advice. There were all kinds of reports and schedules and forms to fill out. There were briefings and debriefings and strategic planning meetings, all on top of their regular duties. Murphy’s phone was always ringing, and it was always One Police Plaza calling, and it was always important.

While Joe was crewing the desk, Amy ran up to him hopping up and down, waving her hands around. But Joe was on the phone trying to sort out a set of reports that had been due the day before. Amy was about to resort to charades when Joe finally lied and said, “Ah, here they are. I’ll send a squad car down with them right away.”

“Finally!” Amy scowled.

“What’s your emergency? ‘Cause I have like nine others at the moment.”

“No biggie,” Amy shrugged. “Just a guy in the cells who nobody seems to have arrested. Seriously, there’s literally no paper trail on him. Like he just appeared in there.”

Joe sighed. “How does the guy say he got in there?”

“That’s the thing. Nobody can figure out what language he’s speaking.”

“Shit. Shit. Shit,” Joe mumbled as the phone on Murphy’s desk started to ring again. He looked at his phone. Only three more hours until it was Mack’s turn to take over. “Try calling the public library reference desk and have him talk at them. Maybe they’ll be able to figure out what kind of interpreter we need. Sorry I have to take this. ‘Fifth Precinct,'” he almost sobbed into the phone.

***

Sadly, Murphy’s vacation had a casualty more serious than the Fifth Precinct team’s pride. Biff had offered to care for Lori’s kitten, now much larger and more mischievous than ever, while she was gone. But with all the ruckus of trying to keep on top of running the precinct, he’d forgotten to feed it for days. When it finally hit him, he left Joe in the middle of an arrest, ran back to the apartment, up the stairs, and unlocked Lori’s door. The cat, half-starved and mad as a wild tiger shot out like a rocket, down the stairs, and through the door Biff had left half-open in his rush.

Making “Lost Cat” posters was one more thing to add to their list, and they did get to it before Lori returned, but by then Mr. Pip was long gone. None of them every saw him again.

“I’ll just imagine that some kid on the street took him home and adopted him,” Lori said when they told her. Her eyes filled up with tears and her lower lip wobbled, but she held it together.

Captain Murphy did not hold it together on his return, however. He laughed and laughed until he gasped and Biff almost called for the EMS. “From now on, keep to your own jobs, capiche? Don’t let your high ideals run away with you.” Tears streamed down his face as he picked up the phone to put straight all they’d managed to screw up in fourteen days.

“Nobody say the word ‘vacation’ ever again,” Amy moaned.

Chapter 9

One Saturday, Lori had given herself a day off from researching and writing. She lay about lazily, wishing she had a cat to tease. Looking down from her window, she saw Joe get out of a parked car, walk around in a circle, and get back in. He wasn’t in uniform, and the car was unmarked, not the usual squad car. But the car didn’t move while Lori watches for ten long minutes.

Having nothing better to do, she went downstairs to investigate and tapped on the window.

“We’re on a stakeout,” explained Biff, who was sitting in the driver’s seat. “Been here since six a.m.”

“Then Mack and Amy relieve us at six tonight,” Joe added. “It’s torture, just sitting here with nothing to do.”

“Can I join you? I can sit in the back and keep you company.”

Joe and Biff looked at each other.

“I’ll bring snacks,” she added.

“Sure, then,” they said in unison.

They chatted idly through the afternoon, talking about crime and motives and corruption and policing techniques. Then they told stories from their childhoods: Joe and Biff traded stories of being altar boys in church. Of course Biff was as pure as snow and Joe had been so naughty the priest had dragged him out of the church by his ear.

At six, Joe and Biff didn’t want to leave right away, so they crowded in back with Lori.

“I’m avoiding all work today,” Lori announced. “In my wildest dreams I give up on this stupid doctorate and travel. I go all over Europe, and I’m a fashion model or an actor, or maybe a singer. Staying at the best hotels and spas. Living the high life while everyone pays attention to me. Oh my, that sounds so shallow when I say it out loud.”

“I’m sure all our idle daydreams would sound just as selfish,” Joe said comfortingly.

“Well, let’s hear them then. I told you mine,” Lori demanded.

Mack started: “I’d like to get away from the city and the suburbs, have a big old house out in a little town. A big yard for playing ball with the kids, big dogs, a big gas grill, and a big fridge full of beers. And maybe get good at something other than being a cop, like have a woodshop or … something like that.”

“See, that’s not embarrassing at all,” Lori complained. “It’s almost realistic.”

“Well then here’s mine,” Joe offered. “I’d go to Hollywood and be a famous screenwriter. Maybe even get to direct. I’d hobknob with the bigshots and be close personal friends with George Clooney. Now don’t accuse me of being realistic.”

Lori laughed. “It could happen.”

Amy said, “Well then mine could too. International superspy: taking down terrorist networks in a slinky black dress. Famous only in top-secret intelligence circles, but there my name is spoken in hushed intonations.”

At this the whole car rocked with laughter. Amy reddened.

“I don’t understand why you guys wish for so many things,” Biff said in a voice barely more than a whisper. “Everything I want is right here. A job where I get to make the world better and safer. Friends around me all the time. Why would I want anything else?”

Lori put a hand on Biff’s knee. “I am grateful for what we have here. But who knows what lies ahead? If we do go our separate ways, let’s make a pact to come back here ten years from now–“

“Assuming we’re all still alive!” Amy yowled, elbowing Mack in the ribs.

“–and share everything we’ve got ourselves up to.”

“Ten years seems like such a long time,” Joe said.

“But honestly,” Lori sighed, “I’ll probably still be here. My dad needs me close by, and I should finish my Ph.D. And then I’ll probably teach and things will go exactly as expected.”

“Shush!” Amy hissed. “There’s the suspect.” She pointed to the door of the building across the street.

“This has been great, Lori, but it’s time to go,” Biff said, opening the back door. Lori got out and watched her friends pull out and slowly roll down the street.

***

October meant the city was finally cooling down, both weather-wise and crime-wise. Kids were back in school and the drunken revelry and stress of the holidays was still to come. And it was in that window that Lori caught a passing glance of Joe’s computer screen and read his draft email.

“So you’re submitting your screenplay?” she squealed, crouching down and hugging him around the back of the kitchen chair.

“It’s not that big a deal,” he said, sounding annoyed rather than proud. “It’s a spec script, just trying to get my foot in the door.”

“It’s the first step,” Lori said. “Your dreams are that much closer to coming true.”

“Don’t get so hung up on dreams, Lori,” Joe said, swinging around to face her. “You should focus on what’s in front of you.”

“I am, I mean–that’s what I’m doing.”

“No. You’re playing it safe while your head’s in the clouds. You’re doing this dissertation, complaining every step of the way, saying your father needs you here when he frankly seems just fine on his own. You want everyone to chase their dream while you won’t take the first step toward yours.”

“Fine, Joe. I’m sorry. I’ll stop complaining about the dissertation.”

“That’s not what I mean. If you want to travel, why don’t you? What’s stopping you?”

“Are you just going to lecture me, then?”

“No. Sorry.” Joe turned back to his computer.

Lori stamped her feet. “I have a secret I’m dying to tell you.”

Joe typed a few words, then said, “So tell.”

“But I shouldn’t.”

Joe groaned and closed his laptop. He turned back to Lori. “Tell me or don’t. Jesus!”

“Okay, but you can’t tell Mack I told you. He’s been seeing my friend Brooke.”

Joe shook his head. “Mack, having an affair? No way. You’ve got that wrong.”

“Not seeing that way. She’s a therapist.”

“Mack, in therapy? That hardly sounds more realistic.”

“No, seriously. He told me himself. He said that with retirement coming up he needed to figure out how to get out of the cop mindset when he’s at home. He said if he didn’t fix things he wasn’t sure his family would want him back. Isn’t that sad?”

Joe stood up. “He said he wasn’t planning on leaving the force anytime soon. I can’t believe he’d just walk out on us like that!”

“Wait, that’s what you’re taking away from this? You should be proud of him, that he’s working on himself.”

“I should be proud he’s getting ready to abandon his friends?” Joe said, raising his voice.

“You were talking about going to Hollywood!”

Joe sat back down and put his head on the kitchen table. Lori thought she heard him mumbling about how he probably wasn’t good enough anyway.

“Listen,” she said, crouching down next to him again. “You’re going to Hollywood. We’re all going to follow our dreams, okay? You and Mack, and Amy, and me too. You’ll probably get your head turned by some gorgeous actress. Maybe I should go to L.A., too, and get into the movies myself. We could go together!”

“Stop fooling yourself,” Joe groaned.

Joe later tried teasing Mack about pensioning out, but Mack gruffly denied it. Joe did notice, however, that Mack took a long, solitary lunch every Thursday, and nobody knew where he went. His friends, however, were encouraging and congratulatory when he revealed that his spec script had landed him an agent.

Chapter 10

“November is the worst month of the year,” Mack said, as a slushy rain pelted the windshields of their double-parked cars. They had the two facing windows down so all four of them could chat across the traffic noise.

“Maybe that’s the reason I was born in it,” Joe said, and blew his swollen nose into a handkerchief Lori had given him.

“Thanksgiving is coming up, maybe we could all have it together,” Biff suggested hopefully.

“We’ll be working it, I’m sure,” Amy sighed, “but at least we’ll get that sweet, sweet overtime.”

The radio crackled, calling them back to precinct. Murphy wanted to speak with them. They revved their engines and peeled around, lights flashing.

Murphy looked grave, and he tugged on his mustache hard enough that gray whiskers came away in his fingers.

“Just got word, Cap’s final hearing is this week. Thought I’d have more warning.”

“But Murph, we’ve got nothing!” Biff squeaked.

“We’ve followed up all kinds of leads,” Mack said.

“Nothing panned out,” Amy grunted, dashing a hand against her forehead.

“I even tried talking to Marsh. He claims to know something, but he might just be yanking our chain,” Joe added mournfully.

Murphy shook his head. “We just have to hope things go our way, then.” His eyes did not look hopeful. “What you can do is write up statements about what you know, what you’ve seen here at the Fifth. I can have them entered into the record.”

The four scattered to their computers. Joe quickly left his desk and slipped back into the Captain’s office. He set his gun and badge gently on Murphy’s desk. “I’m going to sell out the one thing I have that belongs to me: my integrity. Let me take the fall.”

The loud “NO!” echoed through the department and brought Mack, Biff, and Amy running back.

“I won’t let you do this,” Murphy shouted.

“But it’s worth it to get the Captain back. His reputation is worth way more than mine.”

“But it’s a lie,” the acting captain growled.

The rest of them caught on quickly. “It wouldn’t work anyway,” Mack explained. “If you came off as dirty, Cap’s still responsible for what you do here.” He shoved the badge and gun back into Joe’s hands.

“I just need to do something.”

“But not something you’d end up regretting,” Biff said.

“I can do other things. I don’t need to be a cop. I have an agent.”

“Good luck networking in L.A. if you’re in jail, idiot,” Amy said scornfully.

Tears streamed down Joe’s face as they headed back to their desks to finish their testimonials. And the worst thing was, Joe couldn’t quite tell if he was crying for the Cap, or for himself.

***

If the group had been on their best behavior before, that was nothing compared to now. It was as if the Chief himself was watching over their shoulders. They were so courteous, friendly, and professional that it made the NYPD look like an enlightened, progressive organization (at least through the lens they presented). And they were so restless they tried to work every shift they could get their hands on.

At least, all of them except Biff. Biff was like this all the time, and seemed to have complete faith in the system to exonerate their poor abused Captain. He spent many of his off hours at the homeless shelter for kids they’d given out toys for uptown, so many months ago.

Amy, Mack, and Joe were anxiously playing cards at Biff’s before a shift one morning when Biff came through the door and sat on the floor, bobbing his head and sobbing silently through sleepless red eyes.

“Oh my God, Biff, what is it?”

When he could speak again, he said hoarsely, “They shot Hugo.”

“Who? What are you talking about?”

“Hugo. The kid who stole the presents. I’ve been meeting up with him. He got a job at the Nike store, he was doing great.”

“Biff, who shot him?” Amy whispered.

“We did,” Biff wept. “The cops came in, he put his hands up, and they just blasted him. Over and over.”

“Jesus,” Joe breathed.

They tried to get Biff to take a personal day, but he refused. He went in still shaking, and when he disappeared at lunch, they all hoped he’d gone home to crawl into bed. But then they were called into Murphy’s office and saw Biff’s gun and badge on the desk.

“He claims you three don’t know anything about this,” Murphy let out in a strangled voice.

“About what?” Joe pleaded. Mack and Amy put their hands out in disbelief.

“Your partner,” Murph said, turning eyes like glowing coals to Joe, “Went down to Police Plaza, broke into the records room, pulled Cap’s file, and got caught on the way out. They want his head on a pike.”

“Oh, God,” Joe gulped and looked into Biff’s guilty eyes. “If you go down for this instead of me, I’ll never forgive myself.”

“It’s broken,” Biff mumbled. “Without Cap it doesn’t matter anyway.”

“What can we do?” Mack asked.

Captain Murphy shrugged. “He did it. He admits it. I’m out of ideas.”

Amy jumped in: “I hate to say this, but the one person we know who has dirt on the higher-ups is Marsh. At this point, we don’t have a choice. I’ll go up there and convince him to help us.”

“Whoa,” Mack said. “We never found any leverage we could use with him.”

Amy shook her head. “I have an idea what kind of leverage he’ll respond to. It’s disgusting, but we’re all willing to take one for the team. I mean, look what Biff was willing to do.”

They stood in silence for what seemed ages, nobody wanting to step out into the harsh new world they’d found themselves in, knowing if it was touch-and-go for Cap before, it was worse now. Things looked bleak for Biff, Amy was off to do God-knows-what for the one person they all truly hated, Mack could lose his pension if he got tied to all this, and Joe–his heart was breaking looking at everything he might lose, all here together in one room. Could it be for the last time?

But Murphy shoved them out, and they all headed to their separate tasks.

***

While Biff was under suspension, Joe took all his saved days off and holed up in the apartment with him. Neither of them spoke much. Every time Joe tried to be reassuring, Biff turned those hopeless red-rimmed eyes toward him.

He refused to even have Lori cross the hall. “I gave her a cat and then I killed it,” he murmured.

“You don’t know that,” Joe said.

Mack, meanwhile, was the only one working and conveying what was going on to the rest of the group. It was disturbing that Amy had gone radio-silent, but she’d told them not to pester her. She’d message them if she was in trouble.

“Seems to be a flaw in that plan,” Lori texted to Joe. “If she’s in real trouble she won’t be able to message.”

Word came from Mack that Cap’s hearing had been delayed a week to deal with the related matter of Biff’s disciplinary process first. What seemed like it should be good news just made the excruiating wait longer.

When Biff came out of his daze long enough to realize that Amy had been incommunicado for three days, he became frantic. He tore apart the apartment, pulling out and loading every pistol he owned. Then he pulled out the .45 Luger and broke down bawling until he reached a semi-comatose state that make Joe legitimately worried for his health and sanity.

“Let me help,” Lori texted. “I’ll go get Amy. Just lend me a gun.”

“No way,” Joe texted back. “It should be me.”

“Biff needs you. Nobody knows him like you do. My dad taught me to shoot, remember?”

He ignored her repeated texts until she started pounding on the door of the apratment. Biff twitched with every knock, so he had to answer.

“Come on, hand it over.” Lori’s face had never looked more serious.

“I can’t give you a gun licensed to Biff. If anything happens he’ll get in even deeper trouble.”

“Give me the .45. He borrowed it from my dad.”

“This is a terrible idea. You know that.”

“Yeah.” She shrugged. “But somebody has to do something.”

***

Twelve hours of heart-pounding waiting later, Lori returned with Amy (but without the pistol). Biff was sleeping soundly in his room at last, so Joe let them in and dialed up Mack on speaker phone.

“What happened?” Joe begged.

Amy looked exhausted. But she and Lori both had wet hair, as if they’d recently showered. “We’re never going to speak about what happened there; suffice to say that Marsh is indeed coming to our rescue.”

“Thank God,” came Mack’s voice over the cell.

“It was good thinking sending Lori with the Luger. I’d worn him down but he was not going to budge without a tangible payoff. Did you know how much that thing is worth?”

Joe shrugged.

Amy turned to Lori, “And your dad is just willing to let the thing go?”

“For him the fun is in acquiring the toys, not keeping them.”

They looked up and saw Biff standing in the doorway of his room, in his pajamas, looking like a zombie.

“It’s okay, Biff,” Joe said, reaching out for him. “Marsh is going to make this all go away.”

Biff’s head snapped up, and life returned to his eyes.

“You’re going to be back on the force in no time,” Lori promised.

Biff walked slowly to the window, struggled to force it open, and stuck his head out into the brisk, dark November air. The rest of them rushed over to make sure he didn’t fall, but he was just marveling at the streetscape–all the hustle and bustle, the lights, and the noise, and the traffic. “It looks like a fairy world,” he told them.

Chapter 11

Though they had a clue to the outcome, waiting to hear about Biff’s hearing still had them all on edge. Biff paced the floor while Mack pounded back the beers. Lori and Joe played a racing game on Biff’s Xbox, but were mostly just crashing into each other. Amy was making out a will.

“How’s this? To Mack, I give all my cop gear. To Lori, all my books and DVDs. To Biff, my stuffed animals–that’s right, I have stuffed animals. And to Joe, I leave my vibrator because I figure he likes to take it up the ass!” At this she fell into fits of hysterical laughter. “But seriously, Joe, I’m still sorry about your screenplay.”

Mack frowned. “You’re jinxing yourself making a will like this. Nobody here is gonna die.”

“I mean, everyone dies eventually, Mack,” Biff said.

“Ugh, enough with this kind of talk,” Joe groaned, jumping up. “I need to take a walk. Who’s coming?”

Lori stood up next to him.

“More beer,” Mack belched out, looking downward.

On the way to the bodega, Lori noted, “It’s understandable that Biff and Amy are rattled, with what they’ve been through, but I’m sorry to see Mack so down, too.”

“Yeah, he quit going to that therapist friend of yours,” Joe said.

“No! But why?”

“I bet things just got too real for him. Not everyone likes talking about their problems.”

“Just because you don’t talk about them doesn’t mean they go away, you know.”

Joe shrugged. “I don’t think he wants to stay home. I think he sees what’s going on and wants to stay and take care of the rest of us.”

Lori stopped walking. “Well, change his mind!”

“Lori, I’m not even supposed to know he was going in the first place.”

“I guess it’s up to me then,” she sighed. Lori turned around and started walking back to the apartment.

“Lori!” Joe called. He wanted to follow her, but he had to buy the beer first.

When he got back to Biff’s, Lori wasn’t there. But by the time he had decided to go look for her, she was coming in the door.

“Mack, I totally forgot. Brooke gave me this to pass on to you.” She handed Mack a card in a sealed envelope.

“Brooke? Hot older lady from your summer party Brooke?” Amy asked suspiciously.

“She know’s you’re married, right?” Biff asked with a worried tone.

Mack tore open the envelope and read the card with a dark look on his face. “It’s not like that, guys. Leave it alone.”

“Never thought of you as the guy with the side piece, Mack,” Amy teased.

Mack shook his head and got up slowly. “I’ve been going to her for therapy. And I stopped going because of everything going on, it was just getting too crazy.” He put his hands over his face. “But she’s right. I need to do this for myself. I deserve this.” Het sat down again and smiled. “Make fun of me if you want, but she’s been helping me see things. Things are finally getting better at home.”

Biff and Amy took a turn on the Xbox. While Mack was in the bathroom, Joe whispered an apology to Lori. “I guess it’s good for him to go back.”

Lori nodded and patted his knee.

Joe looked her straight in the eye and pointed to the card lying on the coffee table. “It was still wrong, though.”

That was when Biff’s phone rang. He dropped the controller, letting Amy win. “Captain Murphy?” he answered. They all watched a grin break across his face as he listened. “Marsh came through,” he yelled out to the room. “I’ve been completely exonerated and reinstated, and they’re already talking about dropping the accusations against the Cap!”

They all cheered and danced and drank toasts to everyone involved. But Joe couldn’t help feeling hollow inside, knowing that Mack’s heart had already turned back toward home.

Chapter 12

Several days of unusually warm weather ushered in a splendid Christmas day. For once, nobody minded to be working a holiday shift. They ran in and out of the precinct, dragging their pickpockets and purse-snatchers while whistling holiday tunes.

“After so many months of darkness, I finally feel like things are right again,” Biff remarked, the red-and-green reflections of the stoplights against the windshield infusing him with still more cheer.

“The irony that it comes at the darkest time of the year,” Joe replied.

“That just means it’s getting lighter again!” Amy yelled over through the open squad car windows.

“Slowly but surely,” Mack agreed.

They were about to make a donut run to close out the end of their shift when the radio crackled to life. It was Murphy. “Get back to the precinct right away,” he ordered. “You’re gonna want to see this.”

Every now and then, in this down-and-out world, things do happen in storybook fashion. Just as Mack, Amy, Joe, and Biff entered the station house, no-longer-acting-captain Murphy yelled out, “Here’s another Christmas present for Precinct Five!”

Before the words were well out of his mouth, he was whisked away somehow, and in his place appeared a tall man in police dress blues. Of course there was a general stampede, and for several minutes everybody seemed to lose their wits, for the strangest things were done, and no one said a word. Biff ran straight into the Captain’s arms. And while hugging wasn’t exactly NYPD protocol, nobody that night begrudged their long embrace.

Dear old Cap made a speech minimizing his own ordeal and maximizing the heroism of all good officers on the force. He singled out Murphy, of course, but no less Mack, and Joe, and Biff, and Amy. Pizzas arrived, and soda, and ice cream. There was music and dancing and such merriment it could hardly be believed from an office Christmas party—and an NYPD one at that!

They called Lori and let her in, after all, who deserved more credit as a civilian for saving the day? She hugged them all and reminded them, “It was a year ago this very night that we first met.”

“Then it’s been a very pleasant year on the whole,” Mack said.

“Are you fucking nuts? It’s been a nightmare!” Amy retorted.

“I’m just glad it’s over,” whispered Biff. “Now everything can go back to normal.”

But Joe had a sinking feeling that normal was not a thing they’d ever see again.

The Captain was making his way around the room and had reached them again. “I want to thank you personally, Mack, for setting a good example for the greener folks here. I couldn’t ask for a better officer,” he said, pressing Mack’s hand warmly in his own.

Biff said, “Joe took care of me too. Used all his vacation time just to make sure I was okay.”

Cap looked Joe up and down and said, “I know you like doing things your own way, Joe. But I hear you’ve been a real team player. There’s nothing wrong with being a maverick as long as you know when to turn it off. You make me proud.”

Joe turned aside, hoping no one would catch the blush blooming across his face.

Amy pushed Biff forward, eager to have her turn but knowing her place.

“What can I say, Biff. You’ve always been the model cop. We narrowly averted a tragedy—but you’re safe and sound. Let’s keep it that way.”

Then he looked at Amy. “You can stop thinking of yourself as a rookie now. No one will tell me exactly what you did to make this happen, only that you put everyone else’s needs and safety ahead of your own. I know you took a literal bullet this year, too. It’s truly an honor to serve with you.” And he gave her a deep, formal bow far more intimate than any handshake or hug.

Their Cap continued his rounds, but the glow remained. Lori took Joe’s arm and they danced for a few songs until Joe excused himself to get something to drink.

He saw a punchbowl had appeared, and Mack was filling plastic cups with a ladle. Joe came around behind the table to help. “You’re not still thinking of pensioning out now, are you?” he shouted over the music.

“I’m torn,” Mack admitted at the same loud volume. “Things are finally good at home. I want to see the kids grow up before they leave. But the time’s not right. It’s too soon. Cap’s back. I think I’ll stay on another couple years at least.”

After more than a year of constant disaster, Joe finally felt like maybe Biff was right, maybe things could go back to the way they were. But then he saw Lt. Marsh lurking on the other side of the punch bowl.

“It’s just as well,” the old man said with an acidic laugh. “You retire now and I guarantee you’ll be divorced and working mall security in six months.”

“What are you saying?” Mack directed at Marsh, taken aback.

“Leave the force when you have a consulting gig, or a security company of your own to run, or a gun club to manage. Not family. Your family is here. To those people at your house, you’re just a paycheck.”

“Don’t talk about my family,” Mack said through gritted teeth as his hands balled up into fists.

“Calm down, everyone,” Joe ordered. He didn’t exactly agree with Marsh, but punching out the person who’d bailed them all out seemed unwise. And he’d made a good point that Mack’s real family was right here in this room.

Mack uncurled his fists, but he didn’t stand down. Instead, he turned and shut off the stereo system and pounded the table for attention. When the room had turned to him, Mack’s face turned white and he looked unsure of what he wanted to say for a moment. Then he steeled himself and spoke: “Not to steal any of the Captain’s thunder tonight, but now that he’s back in charge I think it’s safe for me to announce my retirement from the force. I leave you in good hands!”

There were shouts of surprise and there was applause. But Joe could see across the room to Biff’s mouth hanging open and Amy with her palm against her forehead. He turned on Mack. “What the hell happened to ‘the time’s not right’?”

Marsh grinned at them like a predator and walked away.

Joe punched Mack on the shoulder. “How could you let him get your goat like that?”

Mack winced and closed his eyes. “It’s not just him. I know I should wait. But I don’t want to. I’m tired of always doing what everybody else needs. It’s always going to be a bad time to go, but I can’t stay forever, Joe.”

“It won’t be the same without you. Who’s going to be Amy’s partner now? Just when things are good again you think it’s time to go?” He stormed off and left Mack filling punch and receiving congratulations.

Lori caught him even before he got to Biff and Amy. “You’re upset.”

“How perceptive.”

“You have to let him live his life, Joe,” she said.

“What? Just stop seeing him? He’s had my back every day, life or death, and now I’m just supposed to see him when he has a Saturday free and I don’t have  a shift?”

“He’s not disappearing. You’ll just have to share him a little more.”

“No, he’s as good as gone. You’ll see.” He shook his head violently.

“Well, you’ve still got me, right? I’m not good for much, but I’m not going anywhere.”

“Okay,” Joe answered glumly.

“You never know what’s going to happen next,” Lori chirped.

“That’s what worries me.”

While the glow of the party continued in the precinct house, outdoors the winds picked up. Snow blew in and fluttered down across Brooklyn. Swirling up from the southeast, off the water, flakes scattered down on the Manhattan Bridge, and then all across Chinatown. And finally, snow started coming down and sticking to the windows of the station house, and the rest of Little Italy.