Lee Goldberg: King City

For a moment, he thought it might be the chief’s small way of acknowledging the good work that Wade and his team had done in their first week, but Wade quickly dismissed the notion. The chief didn’t want to encourage them to do any further police work. He wanted them to go away.

So where did the window installers come from? Could it have been Claggett, his landlord, who’d arranged it? If so, Wade would have him send the bill to One King Plaza and hope for the best.

Wade pulled the Mustang into the back lot and parked beside Billy’s Chevy convertible. He took his daughter’s sleeping bag and led her inside.

Billy was at his desk and sat up quickly, startled to see a child in the station, wheeling a suitcase.

“Brooke,” Wade said, “this is Officer Hagen. He works with me here.”

“Call me Billy,” he said, offering Brooke his hand. She gave it a surprisingly firm shake and glanced at her father for approval.

“You can call him whatever he likes,” Wade said, tossing the sleeping bag on his desk. “But remember that he’s a police officer and do what he tells you, especially if I am not around.”

“Pleased to meet you, Billy,” she said. “Are you sure you’re old enough to be a cop? You don’t look much older than me.”

“Youthful good looks is a family curse,” he said, then caught Wade watching the workers. “How did you get those guys to come down here?”

“I didn’t,” Wade said and then approached one of the two workers, a heavy Native American who wore thick work gloves and a white jumpsuit and was fitting a sheet of glass into place with suction cups. “Excuse me.”

The worker stopped what he was doing and regarded Wade. “Yes, sir?”

“It’s great that you’re here. Do you mind if I ask who’s paying for all of this?”

The worker tipped his head toward the Pancake Galaxy across the street. “Mr. Fallon.”

That’s when Wade noticed Fallon’s Mercedes parked on the Arness Street side of the restaurant. He thought about the situation for a moment, then came to a decision.

“Thanks,” he said, then looked over at Brooke. “Stay here with Billy for a minute. He’ll show you around. I need to have a talk with someone.”

“Sure,” she said.

Wade strode across the street and went into the restaurant. There were about a dozen patrons, but none of them acknowledged him when he came in, perhaps because Duke Fallon was there, sitting in a booth in the back, eating a slice of pie.

Of course he was.

Mandy and Pete were at the counter. He smiled at them as he passed on his way to Fallon’s booth.

“Good morning, Duke. May I join you?”

Duke had a napkin tucked into the collar of his tracksuit and another one on his lap. He wasn’t taking any chances on staining himself this time.

“I wish you would,” Duke said. “It’d make my life a lot easier.”

“That’s not why I’m here,” Wade said.

“I’ve noticed,” Duke said, then gestured for him to sit down.

Wade slid into the booth across from him. Mandy came over with a pot of coffee and an empty mug. She set the mug down in front of Wade and filled it up without waiting to be asked.

“Thank you, Mandy,” Wade said and took a sip.

“She’s getting to know all your preferences,” Duke said.

“That’s how a good waitress earns big tips,” she said and winked at Wade. It made him uncomfortable, and that made her and Duke smile.

“Can I buy you a slice of pie?” Duke asked him.

“No, thanks, I’m trying to cut down,” Wade said and watched Mandy as she went back to the counter and joined her father.

“This is the first time I’ve seen you out of uniform,” Duke said.

“But I see you’re still wearing yours,” Wade said. “Why’d you send those guys over to replace our windows?”

“It was an eyesore,” Duke said.

“You got a problem with plywood illustrated with cops giving it to each other up the ass?”

“We can’t have our police station looking like a condemned building.”

Our police station. It struck Wade as an interesting choice of words. He had some more of his coffee while he pondered it.

“I don’t know if I can accept your generosity.”

“Sure you can.”

“Accepting gifts from felons is what got the MCU in trouble,” Wade said. “Believe me, I ought to know.”

“It’s not a payoff or a bribe. It’s reparations. I may have been indirectly responsible for the damage that was done, so it’s only right that I should fix it.”

“I’m glad to hear you’re interested in doing the right thing.”

“Besides, the station doesn’t belong to you. It belongs to the community.”

Wade couldn’t argue with that, and he appreciated the sentiment, even if it was coming from a murderer, a drug dealer, an extortionist, and a pimp.

“Well, Duke, when you put it that way, all I can do is thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Duke said.

And Wade knew that if word got around that Duke installed the glass, and it surely would, then nobody would risk tossing a brick through it or shooting it up. Duke was bringing Wade under his protection, only without the weekly fee he imposed on all of the other merchants in Darwin Gardens.

“You’re almost making me feel welcome,” Wade said.

“You are,” Duke said. “Within limits.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“I’m sure we will,” Duke said, then pointed across the street with his fork. “Who’s that little girl?”

Wade followed his gaze and saw Brooke and Billy in the station through the gleaming, newly installed window.

“My daughter,” Wade said. “I have her for the weekend.”

Duke looked at Wade as if seeing him for the first time. “You brought her here?”

“This is where I live,” Wade said.

Duke finished up his pie and started working on the crumbs. Mandy came over with the coffeepot and freshened their cups.

“You know something, Tom?” Duke said. “I like you a hell of a lot better when you aren’t wearing a badge.”

“I’m always wearing it, Duke.”

“I think he was born with one,” Mandy said.

“You poor bastard,” Duke said and shook his head at Wade. “It’s going to be the death of you some day.”

Wade nodded and took a sip of his coffee. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”