“…and next a detective on the Rape Squad.”
“Why the Rape Squad?”
“Because I think that’s the worst crime there is.”
“I tend to agree,” Ollie said, although he didn’t know whether he actually agreed or not.
Actually, he probably thought killing little girls was a worse crime. But when a woman who looked as beautiful as Patricia did in the moonlight reflected from the water told you she thought rape was the worst crime there was, then it seemed appropriate to agree with her, ah yes.
“Why is that?” Patricia asked.
Not that she doubted him. But he’d seen so much, and knew so much…
“Because it isn’t fair,” Ollie said.
“Who says it has to be fair?” Patricia asked, and smiled, and said, “My mother used to tell me that whenever I complained about anything. But you’re right. Rape isn’t fair. If men had to worry about rape all the time, the crime would carry the death penalty.”
“Do you worry about rape all the time?”
“Not since I became a cop. Not since they let me pack a gun.”
“Are you packing now?” he asked.
“Always,” she said, and tapped her handbag with one painted fingernail. “Even when I go to bed, Josie is right there on the night table beside me. But before? When I was a kid…”
“Josie?”
“The piece. I call her Josie. Doesn’t yours have a name?”
“No.”
“Let’s name it.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s a trusted friend.”
Ollie wondered if the conversation was taking a sexual turn. He knew some guys who named their cocks. Women, too. Gave names to their boyfriends’ cocks. Louie. Or Harry. Or Pee Wee in some cases. He didn’t think that’s where Patricia was going here, but you never knew. He’d held her awfully close on the dance floor.
“I wouldn’t know where to begin,” he said. “Besides, I don’t think of it as a trusted friend.”
“Have you ever had to use it?”
“Oh sure.”
“Ever kill a man?”
He hesitated.
“Yes? No?”
“A woman,” he said.
Patricia looked at him.
“She was coming at me with a shotgun. Stoned out of her mind. I shot her once in the thigh, she kept coming. An inch closer, she’d have blown my head off. I dropped her.”
“Wow,” Patricia said.
“Yeah.”
“The same piece you carry now?”
“No. This was when I was a patrolman. It was a thirty-eight back then.”
“What do you carry now?”
“A Glock nine.”
“Me, too.”
“Heavy for a woman.”
“Regulation.”
“Josie, huh?”
“Is what I call her.”
“So what should I call mine?”
“You think of a name.”
“Nah, come on.”
“Go ahead.”
“I’m not good at this.”
“How do you know? Give it a try.”
Ollie furrowed his brow.
“What’s your best friend’s name?” she asked.
“I don’t have a best friend,” he said.
“Well…any friend,” she said.
“I don’t have any friends,” Ollie said.
Patricia looked at him again.
“Then how about someone you really trust?”
Ollie thought about this for several moments.
Back inside the restaurant, the band began playing again.
“Steve,” he said at last.
“So name it Steve.”
“I don’t think so,” he said.
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. I guess it wouldn’t be professional. Naming a weapon.”
“Do you think I’m unprofessional?”
“Hey, no, I think you’re very professional. You’re a good cop, and I think you’re going to make a very good detective.”
“You think so?”
“I really do. The Rape Squad’ll be lucky to have you.”
“What I was saying about rape before…”
“Yes, tell me. Would you like another one of those?”
“Are you going to have one?”
“If you are.”
“I think I’d like one, yes.”
“Good, me, too,” Ollie said, and signaled to the waiter.
“What I was saying is that in this city, rape was a constant concern of mine. Because, you know, well, I was growing up to be fairly attractive…”
“Beautiful, in fact,” Ollie said.
“I wasn’t fishing for a compliment.”
“But you are beautiful, Patricia.”
“Well, thanks, but what…”
“A cream dee mint,” Ollie said to the waiter, “and another of these cognacs.”
“Yes, sir,” the waiter said, and walked off.
“What I was trying to say,” Patricia said, “is, for example, as a young girl in this city, I
“Well, thank you,” Ollie said, “ah yes, m’dear. And I feel perfectly safe with you, too.”
Patricia laughed.
“But when I was in my twenties, I’d be out with some guy…well, even lately, for that matter, before I became a cop. I mean this isn’t something that just goes away, it’s a constant with a woman. I’d be having a drink with some guy…”
“How old are you, anyway?” Ollie asked.
“Oh, gee, you’re not supposed to ask that.”
“Why not? I’m thirty-eight,” he said.
“I was thirty in February.”
“February what?” he asked, and took out his notebook.
“You gonna write it down?” she said, surprised.
“Sure.”
“Why?”
“So I can buy you a present. Provided it ain’t too close to Valentine’s Day.”
“No, it’s February twenty-seventh.”
“Good. So then I can get you
“Nobody ever gave me a Valentine’s Day present,” Patricia said.
“Well, you wait and see,” he said, and scribbled her name and the date of her birthday in his book.
“Crème de menthe for the lady,” the waiter said, “and a Courvoisier for the gentleman.”
“Thank you,” Ollie said.
