Superbia 2 (2 page)

The third message was another woman, but this one spoke in a low, nervous whisper.  “
It’s Aprille.  I’m ready to come back.  Fuck if I know what to do now, but you said to let you know.”
 

Frank
wiped his eyes clear and replayed the message.  Finally, he saved the call and typed the name
Marcus
into his phone.  It rang twice. 

“Sup?”

“I’ve got two ringside seats for your favorite event.” 

“Women
’s Oil Wrestling?  You the man.”

“
No.  Kicking the shit out of fat entitled white guys.” 

“Whiteboy Ass Kicking
is
my specialty, Frankie.  I’m all ears.”

After he hung up with
Marcus, Frank laid in bed for a while, watching the ceiling fan rotate.  Fear gripped his chest in a tight fist, making him sick over the idea of what he’d set in motion.  What he’d already done, and would continue doing. 
Just let it alone,
he thought. 
Forget it and move on.
You’re not the only one to think about in all this.
 

He tried on what it would feel like to quit like it was a hat in the store, something he picked up and wore while looking in a mirror, turning side to side.  Every time he looked in that mirror, Vic’s face
stared back at him.

He rolled out of bed and
threw on the oldest sweatpants and t-shirt he could find.  He walked out of the back door toward the small tool shed at the rear of his property, next to the kids’ jungle gym.  It was locked.  He looked around to make sure none of his neighbors was outside.  It smelled, even from outside the shed, and flies congregated near the doors in a thick swarm. 

He stood back and opened the doors, keeping his face away
from the shed as he opened it, hoping that the fresh air would dissipate the contained scent of rotting food and kitty litter.  He’d treated the shed’s floor and walls with Pine Sol and purple Febreze, and now it smelled like Mediterranean Lavender scented cat shit in a pine forest.  

Trash bags filled the shed up to the ceiling.  The ones on the bottom were splitting open, giving birth to globs of spaghetti sauce and coffee grounds.  Frank grabbed the closest bag and sliced it open with his knife, seeing nothing but paper shreddings.  He threw it on the grass behind him to get it out of the way.  The next bag was kitty litter, crusted tissues,
and used q-tips caked with yellow slime.  He held his breath and started to dig.

2
.
The young man waited alone in the police lobby, palms flat against his knees, sitting up straight without ever slouching.  There was a rack of pamphlets on the wall next to him, warning him about the dangers of drinking and driving and offering shelter if he was an abused woman. 

Above the rack
were two framed photographs, one large and ornate, the second less so.  The larger one was a professionally mounted portrait of a uniformed police officer, complete with brass plaque inscribed with the words:
In Memory of Sgt. Joseph Hector, Killed in Action.
   

The second
photograph looked like a color photocopy from someone’s driver’s license.  It was set inside a cheap looking frame, something from a Dollar Store.  No plaque.  The name
Vic
was scratched into the bottom of the frame’s wooden border.   

Reynaldo
Francisco took a deep breath and held it, releasing air slowly from his diaphragm.  He wiped his palms on his knees again, drying them on the fabric.  He heard two people inside the station coming toward the lobby door.  One of them said, “Thanks for coming.  We’ll be in touch.  Tell your old man I said hello, okay?”     

“
Thank you again, Officer Iolaus.  Any idea when will I hear from you?”

“I’m sure the Chief will be
making his final decision in the near future.” 

A uniformed police officer
opened the door and Reynaldo stood up to adjust his suit coat and wait for the other candidate to leave.  Reynaldo assessed him quickly.  Fit, nicely dressed.  Freshly cut hair, close cropped. 
Probably military,
Reynaldo thought. 
Shit.
 

Iolaus
turned toward Reynaldo and said, “Mr. Francisco?  You ready?”

“Yes, sir
.”  Reynaldo hurried after him through the door into the station, following him past a series of cubicles.  The desks inside the room were littered with police gear and manuals.  Pictures of smiling children were taped to the desks.  There was gear strewn across the chairs, from bullet proof vests to wet boots stuffed with newspapers.     

They stopped at a
n office doorway.  The officer pointed at an empty chair in the middle of the room and said, “Go in and sit down.” 

Reynaldo saw a s
econd man sitting inside the room, rubbing his temples.  He was dressed in a suit but his hair was longer than the officers.  He looked tired.  “Come on in, we don’t bite.  I’m Detective Frank O’Ryan and you’ve already met Officer Iolaus.  You’re one of the two people remaining in the selection process, so let me congratulate you on making it this far.”

“Thank you, sir.  It is an honor.”    
 

Officer Iolaus picked up
his pencil.  “Tell us about yourself.  What makes you think you deserve to work here?”

Reynaldo
swallowed and pressed his hands flat against his knees to try and stop them from bouncing.  “My name is Reynaldo Francisco.  I work at a pizza shop delivering pizzas on the weekends and have a little sister who was kidnapped.”  Reynaldo paused.  He knew he was screwing it up.  He’d practiced this exact speech a thousand times, but getting it out correctly was like trying to stop an express train with a hand brake.  “I mean to say that I am going to the Police Academy full-time and work on the weekends.  It is very important to me to become a police officer.  When I was a boy, my little sister was kidnapped by a bad man, and the police found her.  She was not hurt, thank God, because of how quickly they reacted.  That is why I want to do this as well.”

“Okay,” Iolaus said, scanning his sheet for the next questions.

Frank held up his hand and said, “Wait a second.  Your
sister
was kidnapped?  What the heck happened?”

“
We grew up in Brooklyn and my mother owns a store.  She was helping a customer and a man grabbed my sister out of the stroller behind the register.  My mother chased after him, screaming for help, and the officers in the area caught him.”

“Where were you?”

“I was in school.”

Frank nodded. 
“I guess that had a big effect on you.”

Reynaldo
nodded.  “Very much, sir.  Yes.” 

Iolaus
looked at Frank, who nodded for him to keep going.  “Where were you born?”

Reynaldo
took a deep breath and shifted in his seat, “I was born in Mexico City, but we came here when I was a baby.  I am a naturalized citizen.”

“
How did your parents come here?” Iolaus said. 

Frank
glanced at him sideways and said, “Let’s move on to the scenario question.  I’m going to describe things to you and I want you to answer truthfully.”

“They came here illegally,” Reynaldo said.  “I have nothing to hide, sir.  They went through very terrible things to bring all of us, because they love this country so much.  I love it too.  It is why I am now a citizen.”  
 

Iolaus made several notes on his sheet. 

Frank continued with the scenario, “You are a patrolman riding by himself for the first time.  Your sergeant has given you a direct order that you are not to go by yourself to any calls.  You receive a call for a domestic that is less than a mile away from your location.  Before you can answer, your sergeant tells you to wait for his arrival.  What do you do?”

“I would drive to the area of the call and let the dispatcher know I was
close by.  Then I would wait for my sergeant to arrive.”

“While you are waiting, you hear a woman screaming from inside the apartment you were dispatched to.  She is screaming for help.  What do you do?”

“I let the sergeant know that the woman is screaming and request he hurry to my location.”

“The sergeant tells you that he is coming from a distance, but that you are to wait for him.”

“Okay.”

“You then hear the woman say, ‘Please don’t hurt me’ and
there is the sound of a loud disturbance inside the residence.  Things are crashing and breaking and she is screaming louder.  What do you do?”

Reynaldo
took a deep breath as he considered his answer.  “I would let the dispatcher know what I heard,” he said.  He looked at both of the men nervously, both of them were staring straight at him, watching his every movement.  “And then I tell the sergeant that I was taking action.”

“
Weren’t you just given a direct order not to go inside?” Iolaus said. 

“Yes, sir,”
Reynaldo said.  “I’m very sorry, sir.”

“
Sorry or not, you are willfully disobeying a direct order.”

“Yes,
sir.  That is what I would do, sir.”

Frank
leaned back in his chair and folded his arms.  “You realize that as a probationary employee, you can be fired for any reason.  Disobeying a direct order would mean instant termination.”

“I understand that, sir.”

“Anybody who is fired from a police job will never get another one.  Nobody will ever hire you again to be a cop.  You’ll be delivering pizzas for the rest of your life.”

“I understand, sir.”

“So do you want to reconsider your answer?” Frank said. 

Reynaldo
wilted, sinking down in his chair under their penetrating stares.  “The woman is screaming?” he said. 

“That’s right
.”  

“Then I will still go inside.”

Iolaus leaned forward and barked, “There is no room in a police department for people who cannot follow simple orders, Mr. Francisco.  Do you understand that?”

“I do, sir,”
Reynaldo said.  

“So why would you do the one thing you were specifically directed not to?” Frank said.  “Think how hard you’ve worked to get to even this point.  You took a written exam with over a hundred other applicants.  You passed the first two interviews and are one of the last two people left for this job.  Are you seriously going to risk throwing that all away just because some dumb woman is yelling?”

Reynaldo swallowed hard, trying to steady himself.  “I apologize, sir.  But, my answer is still yes.”   

Frank folded his hands on the table
.  His voice was calm and pleased when he said, “Tell me why.”

“Because I would rather lose my career doing the right thing than to keep it by being a coward.”

***

“What did
Wally Jr. say when you asked him the question?” Chief Erinnyes said.

Iolaus
looked down at his notes.  “He stood by when the woman was yelling. Maintained his position when he heard the crashing.”

Frank held up his hand, “That’s not all he said.  Tell him the rest.”

Iolaus lowered his voice, “He said he’d call his dad for advice.”

“Oh boy,” Erinnyes said. 

“We told him his dad wasn’t available.”

“
So when did he go in?”

“He didn’t,” Frank said.  “We had the suspect shouting ‘I’ve got a gun to her head and I’m going to kill her if you don’t come in here!’ and the dumb fuck still wouldn’t go in the house.”

Iolaus raised his finger, “He did draw his gun when he heard the shotgun go off inside the apartment and tried to get a visual on the suspect through the kitchen window.”

“Jesus Christ,” the Chief muttered. 
“You’d think his dad would have prepared him a little better.  How about the Mexican kid?”

“He went right in,” Frank said. 

Erinnyes sighed.  “He must’ve thought they were giving away free enchiladas inside.  Anyway, write it up so that it’s fair.  The Mexican sounds like a good kid, so don’t beat him up.  Somebody else will pick him up soon enough.”

“All right, Chief,”
Iolaus said.

“Hang on,” Frank said.  “We
are
hiring Reynaldo Francisco, correct?”

Erinnyes
grinned at him, waiting for the punchline.  When none came, he said, “Yes we are, as long as the budget allows for a second officer after we hire Chief Conlin’s kid.” 

Frank slammed his fist against the chair, “This is bullshit. 
Francisco blew the interview out of the water.  He speaks Spanish, for God’s sake.  That’s a huge asset by itself, but this kid feels it, Chief.  It’s in his gut, and you can hear it when he talks.  He’s real police and it’s something this department desperately needs.”

“All I can hear is somebody asking me where to plant the rhododendrons,” Chief Erinnyes
’ flabby face quaked as he burst into laughter.  “They probably thought INS took the kid. 
‘Hey, meester, have chu seen my seester?
’”    

Iolaus covered his mouth and guffawed. 
Frank got up in disgust and headed for the door.  “I’m writing it the way it went.”

“You do that,” Erinnyes said.  “Look on the bright side, Frank. 
We don’t have to hire the kid, because he
don’ neeeed no stinking batches!
”

Frank closed the door behind him, shutting it on the sound of Erinnyes laughing until he wheezed.  He headed for the stairwell and braced himself at the top of the steps, stopping to look over the railing.  The lights were on in the hallway below. 

He put his foot on the railing and rubbed his knee, feeling the contraption of plastic and bolts under his skin where the bone used to be.  The lights in the hallway flickered as he descended. 
That’s just faulty bulbs,
he told himself.

The tiles in the floor were loose, popping up in places from the water rotting the boards beneath.  The hallway beyond the detective’s office was dark. 

He smelled scorched metal and smoke.  It got stronger the closer he came to the closed office door. 
Just the crappy HVAC system down here.  That’s all it is.
 

Frank reached for the doorknob and stopped, realizing the lights were out inside the office.  “Mother fucker,” he whispered.  He punched in the code to his door and turned the knob, letting the door open completely while he stood in the light of the hallway outside and looked in. 

Vic’s desk was empty.  Frank let his breath out and flicked on the light switch.  All of the case files on his desk, so neatly stacked when he left, were toppled over and strewn across the floor.  Frank clenched his jaw and bent over to gather up the papers.  “We can keep doing this every week for all I care,” Frank said out loud.  “I’m not hanging the damn poster back up.”