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“Oh, captain, is that rum you’re adding to your coffee?” O’Brien asked while standing behind him in the cafeteria.
“Pete, it is. It’s an old recipe giving to me by my father and passed down generations,” he said as he took a small sip. “It helps calm the nerves.”
“Your nerves need calming?”
“All of us should have our nerves calmed every now and again. It should be written in the handbooks given out at the academy,” he said smiling. “Don’t you agree?”
“Whatever you say, boss.”
The captain smiled.
“But isn’t that drinking on the job?”
“It is for those who have no control, Pete,” said the captain. “But for people like me, and my father and his father, this is sort of like medication. Something that the body needs to help you through the day.”
O’Brien shook his head from side to side in disbelief.
“What?”
“Captain, it’s still drinking.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” he agreed. “But I’m just worried about what’s going out there on our streets. It just keeps getting worse. I hope we come up with something or I’ll be drinking this coffee, without the coffee, if you get my drift.”
O’Brien nodded.
“Now you keep some of your comments to yourself,” the captain started. “And this day will get off on the right foot.”
“Aye, captain.”
“Besides, who are you to judge me.”
“Captain, don’t make a federal case out of nothing,” said O’Brien defensively. “It’s only a bit of rum in your coffee.”
“And a hint of cinnamon too.”
“Captain, that’s girlish.”
Detective Peter O’Brien saw his captain smother in a chuckle as he turned to face the other way so he wouldn’t notice. The captain tried to hold his head up high as he took another sip and walked over to an empty table and sat down.
“Can I join you, captain?”
“Sit.”
“And I won’t mention your coffee again,” said O’Brien as he took a seat directly across from the captain.
“I’m only kidding you about the drink,” said the captain. “In fact it should be given out to every officer on the force before they start their shift.”
“Yeah, that’ll go over well.”
“It’ll put a hop in their step.”
“Yeah, what a happy police force we’d have.”
The captain laughed softly.
“We have to pick up our steps,” O’Brien said while changing the subject. “We need more undercover officers over at North and Madison. I think the murderer is overlooking Nick Barnum. I can’t say why, but I feel it.”
The captain swung around to see if anyone was in ear’s shot, before he made his next comment. “Are we going to stop talking about the rum in my coffee, Pete?”
“Yeah.”
Despite the ending of the rum conversation, there was a hint of sadness in the captain’s eyes when the humor ended. The captain tried to wash the feeling away with a longer sip of his coffee, but that didn’t help.
“Captain, we need to find an ending to this madness,” O’Brien continued. “We don’t want to spiral out of control.”
“Pete, there is never any control in murder,” said the captain. “You know that, and I know that. Reeves also knows it.”
“Chief?”
The captain nodded.
“He pay you a visit?”
“Yeah, brought me a cigar, but I know this is bothering him,” said the captain. “He’s just dealing with it differently.”
“Hey if it works for you,” O’Brien started. “Why not give him some of your rum coffee?”
“Oh?” The captain’s stomach shuddered. He knew that if the chief found rum in his coffee he would never hear the end of it. “I think we should just keep this to ourselves. Do I make myself clear?”
“Of course,” said O’Brien as his stomach clenched. “I didn’t really mean anything by it.”
The captain smiled.
“So what should I do to step this up?” O’Brien asked.
The captain stood up and walked just a few feet away from O’Brien with his hands clasped behind his back. He took the command stance, changing instantly from a casual coffee-rum sipper to more of the Captain of Police. He started to pace as he was trying to think of a plan. His wiry frame flexed as he turned quickly toward O’Brien.
“What?”
“I got it,” he grinned.
“Well?”
“Have Eggy, Victor and Alfredo clear the spot at Madison and North, and leave just Barnum, and our other decoys there. Maybe leave a few job seekers too, but not a lot. This will almost guarantee us that the murderer will pick up one of our decoys.”
“Captain,” O’Brien said as he stood up. “You are a genius. Do me a favor and pour me some of your coffee!”
The captain smiled as he quickly raced over to the coffee pot and grabbed a mug.
“But captain,” O’Brien stopped him from pouring coffee into the mug.
“Yes, Pete?”
“Hold the coffee, hold the cinnamon.”
“Just...”
O’Brien nodded.
The captain smiled and poured some rum into the mug.
“Care to join me, sir?”
The captain took out another mug and filled it with rum.
“To your brilliance,” said O’Brien as he held the mug up in a toast fashion.
“To my coffee, without coffee, and cinnamon.”
O’Brien smiled.
The captain downed his rum.
“Oh, captain, is that rum you’re adding to your coffee?” O’Brien asked while standing behind him in the cafeteria.
“Pete, it is. It’s an old recipe giving to me by my father and passed down generations,” he said as he took a small sip. “It helps calm the nerves.”
“Your nerves need calming?”
“All of us should have our nerves calmed every now and again. It should be written in the handbooks given out at the academy,” he said smiling. “Don’t you agree?”
“Whatever you say, boss.”
The captain smiled.
“But isn’t that drinking on the job?”
“It is for those who have no control, Pete,” said the captain. “But for people like me, and my father and his father, this is sort of like medication. Something that the body needs to help you through the day.”
O’Brien shook his head from side to side in disbelief.
“What?”
“Captain, it’s still drinking.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” he agreed. “But I’m just worried about what’s going out there on our streets. It just keeps getting worse. I hope we come up with something or I’ll be drinking this coffee, without the coffee, if you get my drift.”
O’Brien nodded.
“Now you keep some of your comments to yourself,” the captain started. “And this day will get off on the right foot.”
“Aye, captain.”
“Besides, who are you to judge me.”
“Captain, don’t make a federal case out of nothing,” said O’Brien defensively. “It’s only a bit of rum in your coffee.”
“And a hint of cinnamon too.”
“Captain, that’s girlish.”
Detective Peter O’Brien saw his captain smother in a chuckle as he turned to face the other way so he wouldn’t notice. The captain tried to hold his head up high as he took another sip and walked over to an empty table and sat down.
“Can I join you, captain?”
“Sit.”
“And I won’t mention your coffee again,” said O’Brien as he took a seat directly across from the captain.
“I’m only kidding you about the drink,” said the captain. “In fact it should be given out to every officer on the force before they start their shift.”
“Yeah, that’ll go over well.”
“It’ll put a hop in their step.”
“Yeah, what a happy police force we’d have.”
The captain laughed softly.
“We have to pick up our steps,” O’Brien said while changing the subject. “We need more undercover officers over at North and Madison. I think the murderer is overlooking Nick Barnum. I can’t say why, but I feel it.”
The captain swung around to see if anyone was in ear’s shot, before he made his next comment. “Are we going to stop talking about the rum in my coffee, Pete?”
“Yeah.”
Despite the ending of the rum conversation, there was a hint of sadness in the captain’s eyes when the humor ended. The captain tried to wash the feeling away with a longer sip of his coffee, but that didn’t help.
“Captain, we need to find an ending to this madness,” O’Brien continued. “We don’t want to spiral out of control.”
“Pete, there is never any control in murder,” said the captain. “You know that, and I know that. Reeves also knows it.”
“Chief?”
The captain nodded.
“He pay you a visit?”
“Yeah, brought me a cigar, but I know this is bothering him,” said the captain. “He’s just dealing with it differently.”
“Hey if it works for you,” O’Brien started. “Why not give him some of your rum coffee?”
“Oh?” The captain’s stomach shuddered. He knew that if the chief found rum in his coffee he would never hear the end of it. “I think we should just keep this to ourselves. Do I make myself clear?”
“Of course,” said O’Brien as his stomach clenched. “I didn’t really mean anything by it.”
The captain smiled.
“So what should I do to step this up?” O’Brien asked.
The captain stood up and walked just a few feet away from O’Brien with his hands clasped behind his back. He took the command stance, changing instantly from a casual coffee-rum sipper to more of the Captain of Police. He started to pace as he was trying to think of a plan. His wiry frame flexed as he turned quickly toward O’Brien.
“What?”
“I got it,” he grinned.
“Well?”
“Have Eggy, Victor and Alfredo clear the spot at Madison and North, and leave just Barnum, and our other decoys there. Maybe leave a few job seekers too, but not a lot. This will almost guarantee us that the murderer will pick up one of our decoys.”
“Captain,” O’Brien said as he stood up. “You are a genius. Do me a favor and pour me some of your coffee!”
The captain smiled as he quickly raced over to the coffee pot and grabbed a mug.
“But captain,” O’Brien stopped him from pouring coffee into the mug.
“Yes, Pete?”
“Hold the coffee, hold the cinnamon.”
“Just...”
O’Brien nodded.
The captain smiled and poured some rum into the mug.
“Care to join me, sir?”
The captain took out another mug and filled it with rum.
“To your brilliance,” said O’Brien as he held the mug up in a toast fashion.
“To my coffee, without coffee, and cinnamon.”
O’Brien smiled.
The captain downed his rum.
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