Read Superbia (Book One of the Superbia Series) Online
Authors: Bernard Schaffer
Superbia (Book One of the Superbia Series) (23 page)
The obvious
question people will have upon reading this book is, “How much of it was
real?
Who were the characters based on?”
The answer is no
one.
The answer is
everyone.
My police career
began as a part-time officer 1997 when Chief Robert Furlong opened his office
closet to show me a collection of old uniforms and said, “Pick out whatever
fits you, kid.”
Since that time, I’ve
worked with hundreds of police officers from all over the country.
Some of them are still here.
Some of them aren’t.
Some were fired.
Some quit when they realized the job wasn’t
for them.
Some died.
Some killed themselves.
Others, like me,
stuck around.
Despite all the
never-ending bullshit both inside and outside the station house, we are still
here.
Still holding the line.
Still the people who show up when everybody
else is running the other way.
Not for the
money.
No matter how much money we make,
it could never be enough to compensate for what we experience.
Not for the
glory.
That wears off after the first
few years when you realize exactly how meaningless and replaceable you really
are.
Not for the
recognition.
Newspapers don’t put cops
in the paper when they do good things. They reserve headlines for cops who get
arrested.
I keep a binder
by my desk that contains all my certificates and awards and official documents,
a physical representation of my many hours of training and
accomplishments.
That’s the unimportant
part of the binder.
In the back are the collection
of letters and Christmas cards I’ve received from kids who were being abused.
Kids who are okay now.
Those mean more to me than any medal you
could pin on my chest.
I’m tightening up
right now thinking about it.
Maybe I’ll
cry.
It happens.
The truth is, not
many people know what any individual police officer has done in the course of a
career.
How many lives he’s saved.
How many crimes she’s stopped.
But if you do the job correctly, I can
guarantee you one thing:
The victims
know.
Their families know.
This book was me
opening up my own personal closet for everyone to see.
After all these years dealing with cops, kids,
bad guys, the dead bodies, I’ve got quite an assortment of stories.
If you’re still wondering how much of it is
real, I’m going to tell you like Chief Furlong told me.
“Pick out whatever fits you, kid.”
To my
family.
All of you.
For everything I put you through both as a
police officer and as a writer.
I can’t
imagine which one is worse.
To the Kindle
All-Stars who formed the incredible support team for this book.
Laurie Laliberte, who edited the
manuscript.
William Vitka, Keri Knutson
and David Hulegaard who read the earliest draft and provided detailed feedback course
correction, and encouragement.
To the men and
women of the multiple law enforcement agencies throughout Bucks and Montgomery
Counties, and the City of Philadelphia, past and present.
I’ve always feared this book will spell the
end of my time among your ranks, but I want to be clear about one thing.
I wrote it anyway, because I wrote it for
you.
2/2/12 Update
Turns out I was
right.
I was removed from the detective
division and narcotics unit today.
I don’t regret a
damn thing.
And now the gloves are
coming off.
Available Now on
Kindle
They fly
helicopters over police funerals.
Enormous,
powerful machines from any surrounding agency fortunate enough to have
one.
They swoop in low above the crowd
of mourners, reminding everyone of the power and force of a unified Blue.
One officer falls, but the line does not
falter.
The line is still held.
And what a crowd
it is.
Law Enforcement
from all over show up in their Class A uniforms.
High collars and spit-polished leather,
looking for the attendant with the cardboard box of clean white gloves.
New Jersey State
Police always march in unison from the parking lot to the church in perfect
formation.
Other, smaller departments
see them do it and try to copy it like children chasing after a parade float.
There’s a kind of “me too” aspect to the
entire proceeding.
Frank felt sick.
Danni Ajax sat in
the front row of the church dressed in black gown and long, elbow-length
gloves.
Every bit of her, the grieving
widow she became the instant they knocked on her front door to tell her Vic was
dead.
Vic the bastard.
Vic the no-good estranged husband forking
over half his salary every week, only to be screamed at that it was not enough.
Every basket of fruit and bouquet of flowers
and monetary donation to her children refined her appearance of grief.
She’s
getting good at it,
Frank thought.
But then, this is the big show.
Pretty soon she’ll be in the full throes of
hysteria.
Beside her, the
enormous figure of newly-minted Chief Claude Erinnyes.
Sergeants, Lieutenants, Commissioners,
Mayors, all filed toward him and said the same thing: “How you holding up,
Chief?
Everyone in our department is so
sorry for your loss.”
Erinnyes would
nod and sigh thoughtfully and nod and sigh thoughtfully again, sucking in their
good wishes and attention like an engorged tick.
All the
high-ranking officials and honored guests flanked Chief Erinnyes and Danni and
Jason and beautiful little Penelope Ajax.
They filled up the rows closest to the casket with their brightly
polished badges and eagle emblems and gold-trimmed sleeves.
They were gracious in their allowance of
letting all the mourners in attendance draw strength from them, just by being
in the midst of such supreme police command presence.
The crowd parted
along the right hand side of the church and Frank saw Dez Dolos leading a tall,
grey-haired figure through the horde.
“That’s the FBI Director,” someone whispered. “Holy shit.”
Dez made a
gracious gesture toward Chief Erinnyes, who stood up and clasped hands with the
Director, both of them smiling pleasantly.
The Director continued down the line, shaking hands with each
person.
“I’m sorry for your loss, I’m
sorry for your loss, I’m sorry for your loss,” repeated to each person he
passed, including Vic’s children, his wife, and then the next seven people in
the pew beside them.
The Director
reached the end of the line and Dez quickly escorted him back through the
church, taking him down the front steps and into a limousine waiting
outside.
“You absolute
mother fucker.”
Frank sat six
rows back.
To his right, he saw the only
other person from his PD who arrived early enough to sit up front behind the
roped-off
RESERVED
seats.
Jim Iolaus was wearing his brand-new Class A
uniform, bought for him by the Chief just for this occasion.
An hour earlier,
Frank watched Iolaus and Chief Erinnyes pose for pictures on the church’s front
steps.
Quite a momentous occasion,
Frank thought.
Why
wouldn’t you want a framed photograph of how you looked at someone’s
funeral?
“You son of a
bitch.”
Frank ignored the
words of the man sitting next to him.
Ignored the smell of gunpowder.
Ignored the blood smeared across the front of his shirt.
“I’m talking to
you, mother fucker.
You stole my death!”
“No I didn’t,”
Frank whispered.
“Go away.”
“Yes you
did!
I shot myself to make a point and
you stole that from me.
You think I
wanted all this?
You think I wanted to
give Fat Fuck the chance to sit there and play the benevolent leader?
You betrayed me, Frank.”
“Fuck you,
Vic.
Leave me alone.”
“Real, real
nice,” Vic said.
“On the day of my
funeral it’s, ‘Fuck you?’
In a
church?”
“You just called
me an absolute mother fucker!
Look,
knock it off.
I’m trying to pay
attention, okay?
Vic grimaced at
the sight of Danni.
“Look at her
carrying on.
What did she say when you
gave her the letter?”
Frank shifted in
his seat and stared straight forward without speaking.
Vic slammed the
wooden pew in front of him with his hand, “Jesus Hirschfield Christ,
Frank!
What the hell were you
thinking?
I asked you to do one fucking
thing, and you couldn’t even do that for me?”
Vic spun on him, glaring into his face, showing him where the worms had
eaten through his cheeks and bored holes in his eyeballs.
Bugs tumbled out of his hair and fell on the
floor, fell on Frank’s lap while he sat there motionless.
“I’m not done with you, rookie.
Not by a long shot.”
Frank O’Ryan
bolted upright in his police car, slamming his knees into the radio
console.
The early morning
sun was fierce, reflecting off every car surrounding his vehicle in the bank
parking lot.
The lot had been empty when
he pulled into it at three o’clock in the morning.
Frank watched a mother holding her little
girl’s hand come out of the bank and head for their car.
Both of them were looking at him.
“Mommy, was that
policeman sleeping?”
The mother
instantly shushed her daughter and yanked her away.
Frank put his head down and drove out of the
parking lot, stomping on the gas as soon as he was on the street.
Bernard Schaffer is the father of
two children. Born and raised in the Philadelphia area, his work has ranges
from best-selling gritty police procedurals to fantasy westerns.
A real life police officer, in 2012
he released a series of books titled SUPERBIA about a dysfunctional police
department that reached the Kindle Top 100.
As a result, he was stripped of his detective rank.
Schaffer is the founder of the
Kindle All-Stars.
All profits from their
collections are donated to the National Center for Missing and Exploited
Children.
The Bernard Schaffer Dropbox is Live
You can now access the Bernard
Schaffer Dropbox for FREE stories and info, including the brand new STAR TREK
RETURN FIRE series for your Kindle.
Bernard Schaffer is a proud
participant in the Authorgraph program, wherein readers can request to have
their books personalized by clicking the above link.
Select any available title to receive a
digitally signed and inscribed message from him.
Email:
[email protected]
Twitter:
@ApiarySociety
Info
on Free Book Days + More: Bernard Schaffer Facebook Fan Page
More Works by Bernard Schaffer
The Guns of Seneca 6 Series
Get Your Guns Ready to travel to Bernard
Schaffer's dusty world of the
Old West
set on a distant planet. Outlaws, gunslingers, native tribes, the occasional
spaceship crash landing, and men willing to risk it all.
A perfect combination of science fiction and
westerns.
Guns of Seneca 6 Collected
Saga
Recommended for fans
of Firefly, Star Trek, Old West legends, Tombstone, and The Assassination of
Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford.
