The Patrolman - 4 (1/2)

 

 

4.

 

 

 

It had been a spell since Jake Lacey darkened the doorstep of Hollywood Police Station. They mailed his things to him after the disciplinary hearing. He didn’t get to say goodbye to his fellow officers before shipping out for basic training. Seeing familiar faces worried him, especially when it was his mug that made all the headlines.   

He didn't recognize the watch commander. He was a chrome dome fast approaching retirement. His nose was in a paperback, Raymond Chandler’s The Big Sleep. Without looking up, he asked Lacey what he could do him for.

'I'm here to see Lieutenant Flowers.'

‘Got an appointment?'

'Not exactly. It's my first day on homicide.'

'You should’ve led with that,’ he said. ‘What’s your name?'

'Jake Lacey.'

That made him look up from his desk. ‘Rings a bell. I know you, Lacey?'

'I worked patrol here not 18 months back.'

'Ah, I worked graveyard shifts then. Come on, I'll bring you up.' He came through the side door and led him to the stairs. 'So where've you been?'

'Working Wilshire Traffic. Before that, I was in the Service.'

'You didn't last long.'

'Suppose I didn’t,’ Lacey said. ‘I got shot.'

The watch commander realized he'd put his foot in it. But it didn't make him stop, or apologize. They reached the top of the stairs. Making a right at the water cooler, they passed Bunco and the Burglary-Robbery Squad Rooms. All frosted glass obscured the men working inside. He took Lacey to the briefing room, knocked twice, and stepped inside.

It was set out like a high school classroom. A lectern and two blackboards stood at the front, with rows of desks reaching to the back. File cabinets stuffed with open-unsolved cases lined the back wall. Old men in hats read newspapers and smoked cigars, and didn't look fussed to see them.

The watch commander announced him and looked around, expecting something. He didn’t get whatever it was so he left.

Lieutenant Flowers was a man cut from granite. He took Lacey's hand and almost crushed it. Flowers had transferred from Central to Hollywood when Lacey graduated from the Academy. Lacey knew him to look at but had never once stopped to talk to him.

'Gentlemen, this is Jake Lacey,' Flowers said. 'He joins us from Wilshire Traffic. Lacey broke the Pico Boulevard case. The Chief tells me he’s the Department's rising star, so I want you all on your best behavior. He's a Hollywood man, and here to learn from the very best. That's why I've partnered him with Georgie Carruthers.'

Seven men, seven faces. All looking bored, all sizing him up. He looked for a reaction from one of them. There in the corner, the detective who sat in the back alone was Georgie Carruthers.

Carruthers' unshaven chin cast a shadow. His top button was undone and his tie hung crooked. The suit was expensive, but it looked like he’d gotten used to sleeping in it. Carruthers was the youngest in the squad until he walked in. He was closer to 40 while the others were pushing 50. Lacey wondered why he hadn't noticed him before.

Flowers continued. 'When Lacey was in uniform, he stopped the bank robbery on Santa Monica Boulevard. Shot a couple of fellas if I heard it right. Went down like the O.K. Corral. Well done, kid. Now find your partner and pull up a chair. If you can't work that one out, I'm sending you back to Wilshire.'

Georgie Carruthers didn't bat an eye as he joined him.

The Lieutenant picked up where he left off, pointing to a blackboard. Two calls last night, one that morning. Goosen and Hubja caught a stabbing outside a West Hollywood bar. Boyle and Lewinsky took an attempted break-in at Louis' Liquor Locker. The would-be thief smashed a glass panel in a back door, reached through to let himself in, and slit his wrist. He bled out by the dumpsters.

'A tragedy,' Flowers said.

Lacey remembered stopping in there the morning of the robbery. That'd been a break-in too. What if it was the same guy?

The Lieutenant took a slug of coffee. 'We got a call come in around 5:30 this morning. A housewife up near Bronson Canyon Park heard screaming. She went out to investigate and found the body of a young woman. Patrol's got the scene blocked off and are holding back reporters. Lacey, Carruthers, it's yours if you want it.'

‘We'll take it,' Carruthers said.

'Then get to it.’

 

 

He fell in behind his new partner. They headed downstairs, past the watch commander's desk, and took the parking lot exit. Carruthers stumbled down the concrete steps ahead.

Lacey stopped at the top of them to admire a sweet ride parked up front - a maroon '41 Lincoln Continental Cabriolet.

The convertible top was down, tucked behind the rear seats. A chromium grille had horizontal bars sat between round sealed-beam headlamps. It had whitewall tires with polished rims. He noticed the fitted siren and police radio inside. The Department didn't issue cars this pristine - it had to be Carruthers’ ride.

The Lincoln was a work of art.

‘Some car,’ Lacey said. ‘What’s the horsepower on it?’

‘Get in.’ That was the first thing he said to him. The first time he acknowledged Lacey. After that, they sat in total silence.

Carruthers drove them north on Wilcox. They passed the Hollywood Athletic Club, the Post Office, and the Mark Twain. He saw the Hollywoodland sign as they turned east on Franklin. The two “O’s” stood around 50 feet high, almost touching, like the towering eyes of Mickey Mouse. A half mile after the Hollywood Tower Hotel, they made a left onto Canyon Drive.

'They pushed you through real quick,' Carruthers said. 'How long’ve you been on the job? Five minutes?'

‘A couple of years,’ Lacey said. ‘Not that it’s any of your concern.’

‘He’s got gusto.’

‘When he needs to. What’s eating you, Georgie?’

‘My partner got retired the other day and now I'm stuck with a boot.’

‘That’s poor timing, but it had nothing to do with me.’

‘What’s so special about you? How did you make homicide from traffic?’

‘I was good at my job.’

‘And how good’s that?’

‘Not bad,’ Lacey said. ‘Good enough to know that you haven’t slept in a few days, had a drop of rye in your morning coffee, and that you’re flat broke.’

Carruthers looked blank. ‘What are you? Some kind of freak?’

‘No, I’m Officer Jake Lacey. If you lose the chip on your shoulder, I’ll pull my weight and help where I can.’

Carruthers said nothing and concentrated on the road.

 

© J. A. Stapleton 2025 - Image Source: Wikimedia Commons