LA Modern Noir: Chapter 6b - Wilson

I wrote this post about a story where I had a first chapter written. I'm trying to push on and finish a first draft in 2024.

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Stuart

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Chapter 6b - 1730 words

The hot summer continued. In the briefing room the AC went out and facilities reckoned it would take a couple of weeks to sort it. Even at eight a.m. it was uncomfortable and daily briefings became terse affairs.

Getting the shop set up was a choice between high intensity and getting it done as quickly as possible then coping with the sweat, or going slow and gentle and coping with the sweat.

Wilson took ten dollars from his wallet and held it out to Xavier. ‘Here, go get our coffees, and make sure there’s plenty of ice. Once we’re underway I don’t want to be opening the car unless it’s absolutely essential.’

‘No stopping for jaywalkers today then,’ Xavier asked.

‘Not unless they’re chewing on human body-parts,’ Wilson said.

‘Who’s got their engine running?’ The garage engineer was trying to be strict about engines not being left running while still in the garage, but it was the only way to get the AC working before vehicle was assaulted by the bright LA sunshine. ‘You know the rules, guys. Engines off until you roll out! Wilson, is your engine on?’

Wilson looked down the long garage with it’s row of (LAPD standard vehicle) in various stages of ready. (person) was at the door of their office, probably unwilling to leave it’s cooled environment. Wilson waved, turned to Xavier, and said, ‘I’ll get you round the corner by the coffee truck.’

Xavier headed for the door back through the (precinct) and Wilson went back to checking the list of things that should be in the rear of the vehicle, and that it was stored correctly.

(name) came through and asked, 'Did I just see your trainee not helping load out?’

‘I sent them on a shift essential task’ Wilson said. ‘They’ll meet me round the corner.’

‘When I retire I’m buying three food trucks. One coffee, one taco, and one that does cannoli and donuts. I’ll get a licence to park them outside here and be able to retire all over again a year later based on how much we buy from the ones that occasionally show up now.’

‘Good idea. Maybe I’ll cash in early and do it now,’ Wilson said. He swung the tailgate down and leaned against the vehicle. ‘You needing me, chief?’

‘No, just checking in how things are. You’ve been quiet ever since Internal Affairs stole you for the day. I figured it was time to make sure you are okay.’

‘I’m fine. Just biding my time and trying to decide who gets a rumor started about them.’

(Chief) stared at him thoughtfully. Wilson knew the technique and felt no compulsion to fill the silence with admissions of suspicion about his trainee, or fears there may be others who he hadn’t been shown, or that weren’t known about, on the payroll of Harry Albarn.

Eventually (chief) said, ‘And how’s your trainee doing?’

‘As capable as my reports say. And I’d better get round and pick him up. The ice’ll have melted, and I’ll get a hot coffee, which is exactly what I’m trying to avoid.’

‘And if you don’t get going, (engineer) looks like he’ll come down here and tear you a new one for keeping that engine running.’ They both looked down the garage and (engineer) threw his arm out, as if indicating he’d been trying to get their attention.

‘You go speak with him,’ Wilson said. He slid into the (vehicle) and instantly revelled in the coolness which had built. He hit the button to open the garage door, and eased out into the lot. It was already mostly empty. He turned left and the officer on gate duty lifted the barrier. Wilson saluted them, not recognising the officer on duty, but willing to wish them well and hope he never pissed of the powers that be so badly. The gatehouse had no air-con and was glass on two sides with only blinds to alleviate the incoming rays. Getting assigned gatehouse duty was a tacit punishment saved for officers who were consistently late, or microwaved fish in the break room – little things which didn’t rise to a disciplinary but were a nuisance to the squad as a whole.

Xavier was stood on the corner with coffees and a paper bag. When he opened the door a waft of warm air rushed in, displacing the not yet fully cooled interior air.

The radio beeped, and a call for respondents to a domestic disturbance came through, fortunately it was the opposite direction of their beat.

‘What’s in the bag?’ Wilson asked.

‘The look like pastry seashells,’ Xavier said, ‘and have pistachio cream in them.’

‘Sound’s good.’

‘Coffee and pastry for five bucks seemed okay. If they suck, we just go back to coffee only.’

‘I keep getting ads for coffee machines on my Instagram feed. Occasionally I’m tempted by the idea, but I don’t want to find myself several grand deep on coffee equipment and boring folks with why you have to roast a bean slightly differently depending on where it grew on the mountain.’

Xavier said, ‘You’re bad enough when you start talking about whisky.’

‘You’ve heard nothing compared to when I really get going. But yeh, adding coffee to that just feels a bit extra. Still, I might get a drip machine and make a flask for the day. Saving a hundred bucks a month on coffee means I can buy better whisky to be boring about.’

Dispatch came on the radio again and this time it was an area their beat covered. Xavier picked up the handset to respond.

‘Give it a moment,’ Wilson said. ‘Doran and Feenie are the overlap with us and they left ten minutes before we did.’

Dispatch called again, and Wilson still shook his head. Feenie answered the call and accepted the response. Wilson grinned, and said, ‘See, now they get to stand around sweating while an angry LA couple shout at each other and throw crockery. Hey, this pastry is great!’

‘Right,’ Xavier said. ‘I think I might do the home coffee thing as well and spend the spare cash on these. It might be a betrayal of my heritage, but these are better than any churros I’ve had from a truck.’

Most of the shift carried on in much the same way. They answered a few dispatch calls, but only when it was clear no one else was taking it. And despite the heat they were lucky. A suspected intruder which couldn’t be confirmed by the homeowners cameras, but who did provide iced tea and a restroom break. And later in the day a local supermart owner had them reviewing camera footage of shoplifters, while supplying chilled sodas.

‘This is the third time in the last month these pendejos have targeted me,’ the store owner said.

Wilson asked her, ‘When was the first time?’

‘Beginning of June. Look, I expected cheap hustlers who didn’t want to pay for their sodas and –’

‘Sir, are you being shook down?’ Wilson asked. ‘Is it a protection thing?’ The owner stared back nervously. Wilson knew they’d get nothing if he pushed. ‘Okay, ignore that. These guys on the security camera, are they local, are they regular? Do you know where they live or their names?’

‘I don’t know, Officer. They just come in a few times and steal everything. Can’t you do something about it?’

‘If you can make time to come in and give a statement, we’ll do our best. Right now we’ll keep an eye out for them based on your security camera footage. Here’s my card. Call and arrange a convenient time to come in and make that statement.’

Back in the vehicle Wilson called dispatch and updated them, they started a basic grid search looking for the youths who matched the pictures they’d seen on the security camera.

‘This isn’t gang country as far as I knew,’ Wilson said. ‘Might be worth checking with (Gangs Unit) when we get back. And we should keep an eye on the street corners. If they’ve started shaking down the small businesses there’ll be drugs and prostitution. Hey, check that guy’s jacket over at the corner.’

Xavier said, ‘Could be. But he’s by himself, there were three in the video.’

‘Casually watch him as we go past.’ Wilson continued at a steady pace and glanced over himself. The yellow puffed jacket looked like it could be the one they’d seen on the black and white video, and the close-cropped hairstyle also looked similar. The youth stared at the vehicle as it drew towards him and calmly drank from a can of highly caffeinated energy drink that looked to be of the type reported stolen from the bodega. Without turning to stare Wilson couldn’t get a clear look, only a side on glance. ‘What do you think, is he one of them?’

‘I think he has an unfortunate taste in clothing,’ Xavier said, ‘but it’s obviously the in-thing to be wearing heavy jackets in this heat. But he looks like any other kid waiting for his friends. And if he’d just been shop-lifting I’d expect him to look at least a little nervous. And like I said, he’s by himself. Why don’t we head to the next block over, there’s a basketball court. If they aren’t playing games inside with the aircon on full blast, they’ll as likely be there.’

Wilson looked at the junction ahead. Reflexively he glanced at his door mirrors and, as he looked right, saw the youth make an acknowledgement which could only have been for Xavier. The unconfirmed allegation about his trainee being an Albarn plant had moved from something Wilson was constantly aware of to a background concern. The chief talking about IA had lifted it back up to the foreground. Now it leapt forward and Wilson required effort to concentrate on making the turn and not slamming the brakes on to demand answers.

There were kids at the court, but they were kids, younger and none of them tall enough to have been the ones on the video. A call for an fender-bender came through and took them to the other edge of their patrol area. The remainder of the shift there was a constant flow of calls which all needed to be attended, and could all be linked to the frustrations caused by weeks of being hot and sticky.

Through it all Wilson watched Xavier with renewed suspicion.

Chapter Break

Link to collated chapters HERE

Link to the short story which is the seed for this is HERE

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words by stuartcturnbull pic by igorelick on Pixabay