Maelstrom

"Excuse me, Lesley Groesbeck?" I asked her.

The man she was talking to excused himself and broke off their conversation. She must have barely met the department's minimum height requirement. I was probably six inches taller than her. She had golden blonde hair that was braided in a intricate plait. She was not disappointed to see me and seemed surprisingly poised for a newbie.

"Why yes... you're Max Pemberton, my new partner."

"Uh huh," I answered.

Her blue eyes sparkled. She looked like she was still in high school and I was talking to one of the cheerleaders -- the flyer -- the smallest one who got thrown in the air.

"I think Lieutenant Neufeld hates you," she offered as an astute observation. She was witness to my public humiliation. I wondered if she thought less of me.

"Wasn't my finest hour," I confessed to her.

"Oh, it's vintage Max from what I hear," she said, inviting my next question.

"What have you heard?" I asked.

"I heard that you buck authority when it's convenient for you. You occasionally fuck up but you always recover from it. You get results, you're a good cop, and you watch everyone's back."

"Someone said that?" No one ever said that to my face.

"Actually a lot of people Max. You sort of have a rep around the station."

I guess I underestimated everyone's powers of observation.

"Do you know how I ended up with you as my partner?"

I thought maybe they had a drawing for it and she got the short straw.

"I asked for you," she said, saying exactly the opposite of what I was expecting.

"Really?" I asked, not being able to come up with something better.

"Uh... yeah. They asked for volunteers and I volunteered to be your partner."

"Volunteered huh? I guess you're a pretty lousy decision maker."

"Oh... I heard about Ed." She giggled. "I'm much better at carrying coffee and I don't have anything down there [she looked at her crotch when she said it] so there's nothing to burn."

"Very funny."

"Seriously Max, I asked to be your partner. You do have a rep as a good cop in a tough area and I want to learn from the best someplace where it's real."

"Come on Lesley," I chided her. "You don't have to butter me up."

"I'm not Max. I'm serious."

I guess she was.

"OK Lesley. You can be my new partner. It's through thick and thin, right?"

"Of course Max. I've got your back 100% of the time."

She was in a small package but she was showing me to be feisty and tough. I liked that. I told myself not to let her size or appearance deceive me. She was going to be a good partner.

* * *

I told Lesley about our "mission" to make at least two arrests in the West End. I figured we might as well hit the ground running and head out to the location Neufeld had identified. I decided to drive until I felt comfortable enough to surrender the chore to her.

I drove our unmarked car to Fourth and Franklin. It was an older and smaller 7-11 with a parking lot pockmarked with water filled potholes and littered with windblown fast food wrappers that were caught in tall weeds. I drove past it slowly and then parked down the street where we wouldn't be as easily noticed (though there was no good way to disguise an unmarked car in this neighborhood). A wig shop, a boarded up restaurant, and metal mesh doors to walk up apartments made up the rest of the street. It was late morning, and the hookers were starting to filter into their preferred locations. I saw kids on bicycles riding up and down the street. They should have been in school, but they were probably acting as spotters for the local drug dealers. I'm sure they made us because none of the usual drug trade was around.

I was watching Lesley out of the corner of my eye as I scanned the road ahead. She was attentive and soaking in the grittiness of the neighborhood. She impressed me as coming from money, and monied women like her didn't hang out in places like this.

Lesley... Lesley Groesbeck... her name kept running through my mind. It bugged me that Lesley's last name sounded familiar. She was gabbing about growing up in some ritzy neighborhood in Cincinnati when it finally hit me.

"Was your father Chief of Police a while back?"

Her eyes sparkled. "Why yes, he retired eight years ago. Do you know him?"

"I didn't because he retired before I started. But everyone knew Saul Groesbeck."

"He inspired me. I went to the Police Academy because of him," Lesley said, her voice tinged with admiration.

"I heard he was a good man," I added. "I guess I'm going to have to take extra special care of you."

"And what does that mean?" she asked innocently. She flashed her baby blue eyes at me. I thought I was looking at Bambi in the forest.

"That means I'm not going to let you get killed," I told her.

Her face all of a sudden turned serious. "Right."

This was as real as it got.

* * *

The place we were staking out was a waste of time. I had tried to tell Neufeld but of course he wasn't interested in listening to my opinion. "It's been an hour, and if something was going to happen it would have happened by now," I proclaimed to her, starting to get bored out of my mind.

We both were looking out the windshield at an empty parking lot at the 7-11. There wasn't any action for the last hour, not even a real customer.

"What do you suggest?" she asked me.

"I say we find someone to arrest. Neufeld's going to be pissed if we come back empty handed."

"OK."

"I know a place..."

* * *

We went to an ancient liquor store in the heart of the West End, a store that I regularly visited as both a beat cop and a customer. The one story building was of modest cinder block construction with bars covering the aluminum framed door and the display window with various beer neon signs hung across the top of it. It was sketchy enough to have doubled as an adult book store. As expected, there were four working women hanging out in the corner of the parking lot, but their pimp's car was nowhere to be found. I pulled up in our unmarked car, which even to the untrained eye was obviously a cop car, being that it had a large spotlight on the driver's side. The women looked up at us and assessed us as a non-threat and went back to their conversation.

I got out of the car. Lesley followed me as we approached the women. The oldest looking one in the group, probably fortyish, one that I knew that went by the name of Rhianna, broke away from the group to confront me. Rhianna was wearing a white tube top that barely covered her overflowing tits, and completed her ensemble with skin tight pink hot pants, and white vinyl boots. Her overly made up face couldn't hide the deep wrinkles in her skin. She might as well have been wearing a sign that said "fuck me."

"What's up Max?" She stood in front of Lesley and put her finger on my partner's badge. "And who's blondie here? You guys recruiting high schoolers now?" she asked in a gravelly voice. The other women laughed at us. Rhianna laughed until she started a hacking cough.

"Back the fuck off Rhianna. She's my new partner." I stepped between her and Lesley to make my point.

Rhianna was unimpressed by my threat. She leaned to the side so she could see Lesley's face, then pointed to her.

"Fresh meat sweet cheeks." Then Rhianna turned to me. "Let me know when's she's off duty. I'll fuck her for free." She smirked when she said it. More chuckles from her co-workers.

Lesley's face reddened. She was trying to be strong but was clearly flustered.

Rhianna laughed at her own joke. "No harm in asking. So what do you want?"

Their party was about to end.

"Listen Rhianna. I've been tasked with making an arrest. You know the drill. I take one of your girls and then you move someplace else for a week or two. So who here can I arrest for solicitation?"

"You're not fucking with me, are you Max?"

"Afraid not. Chief's got a new initiative. If you guys can't make up your mind I'm going to take you, so figure it out."

Rhianna went back to her little covey and had an animated conversation. She came back, pulling a young woman by the arm. She was a cute thing, dressed to look like a teenager with pony tails and a plaid skirt, but the needle tracks on her arms told another story.

"Josie here hasn't been arrested before. I think she'll get off with probation as a first time offender. I'll tell Marquis this is going down." She shoved the young woman toward us.

Marquis was undoubtedly their pimp. "You tell him that. She should be ready to bail out tomorrow morning. I'll take her now."

I had Lesley cuff our volunteer offender and put her in the back seat of our car. I got in to drive back to the station to book her. Lesley was riding shotgun.

"So this is how it's done Max? A negotiated arrest?" Lesley asked, disoriented by my clearly not by the book arrest. I could see that Josie was content chewing gum in the back seat.

"Rules are different on the street partner. We take care of each other. These women have it hard enough as it is. They know this is a cost of doing business and I just want to make it as painless as possible. Management knows this is a temporary measure, and no one expects any long term good to come from this. It's simply padding the stats for the monthly report that some bean counter reads."

"OK."

The tone of her voice told me she wasn't completely sure I was right. It was a clear breach of procedure, and she had just seen my head handed to me by Neufeld for ignoring the "no phones in the briefing room" rule. But I was right, and Lesley was still wet behind the ears. It wouldn't take long for her to become as cynical as me.

"Let's get this done and then I'll buy you lunch at the diner."

* * *

Our next stop was the station. I saw Neufeld on the way in. He was hanging out in the break room and scowling at us as he drank his coffee.

"See you got one," he said, his eyes following me as I was walking down the hallway with Josie and Lesley in tow. I halted the train.

"Actually picked her up at a liquor store at Townsend and Grant," I told him. What I meant was "Your intelligence is shit."

"Right, right. I was going to have you check there next," he said in his mealy mouth fashion, trying to save face but instead telling me an outright lie.

"You should get out there and see for yourself," I told him.

He was never going to do it. He was getting soft, and soft is not what you needed for a watch commander. He was just a desk jockey. He didn't want to get his hands dirty. That chore he'd give to someone like me. He glared at me for my smart remark.

I finally broke the uncomfortable silence.

"Well, better get this one to booking."

Lesley sidled up to me to whisper, "Neufeld looked a little pissed."

"That's his natural expression."

She nodded and then jerked Josie's cuffs to nudge her forward.

"Seems like it," she said.

"Yeah, but he got the message that my intelligence was better than his."

"You're not out to win a popularity contest, are you Max?"

"I come in last place every year, but I don't give a fuck."

I think Lesley was coming to a good understanding of what I was about.

Then I realized Lesley was now the low person on the totem pole and that she looked like she lived in the high rent district.

"Lesley... there's this Police Benevolent Society we're supposed to raise money for..."

"Oh, I heard at the briefing..."

"Congratulations on being named the co-chairwoman of the campaign," I said, patting her on the shoulder.

"Max, are you..."

"Yeah Lesley, I am."

Like I said, shit flows downhill.

* * *

My final stop of the day with Lesley was a late lunch at Flores's Diner. Classic diner -- a corrugated aluminum skinned building with large picture windows, looking "retro" before it was fashionable. But it wasn't the décor and ambiance that made it popular, it was the award winning fried chicken that kept the place humming.

My good friend Nicky Flores ran the front of the house for her family's restaurant. I got to know Nicky when I was in high school, when our clique of girls used to hang out at the diner owned by Nicky's father, Gustave Flores. Nicky befriended me and my best friend Maddy Bailey and we've been close ever since. It was Nicky who convinced her father to add his mother's fried chicken to the menu. She promoted it with local restaurant critics and entered competitions, and their restaurant quickly became a destination for foodies in the area. It didn't hurt that it was located on the border of West Price Hill, a "transitional" area that was becoming one of Cincinnati's up and coming neighborhoods.

We squeezed past a clump of people through the front door and into Nicky's waiting bear hug. Nicky was on duty and wearing the diner's staff uniform, a white short sleeve shirt embroidered in script with the name of the restaurant and black slacks. Nicky mashed me against her big tits and ample girth. She always wore a lot of make-up, but even the best make-up couldn't hide the bags under her eyes. She looked dog tired, but happy to see me.

"Max... so who is this? Introduce me to your new partner." Nicky's keen eyes scanned Lesley at arm's length while she was talking to me.

I watched Nicky as she assessed my new colleague. She was a quick and accurate judge of character. I could already see that the expression on her face said that Lesley was going to be OK.

"This is Lesley Groesbeck."

"Lesley Groesbeck..." Nicky said as she pondered the name. Then she pointed her finger at Lesley.

"You've been here before with your dad."

Nicky never forgot a face.

"Saul, isn't it? How is he?"

"He's fine. Thank you. I'll tell him that you asked. He's enjoying his retirement. He spends the summers fly fishing in Canada and the rest of the year here with us."

"I think he brought you in once... maybe five years ago," Nicky said, as if she just retrieved that information from her memory's hard drive.

"That's right," said Lesley, impressed. "It was about five years ago."

"Saul's a good guy. He used to be a regular when he was working. I don't see him around much anymore."

The memories came flooding back to Nicky, as they did for me. I was never formally introduced to Saul but I remembered seeing him at Nicky's a few times. Distinguished looking man, medium height, reed thin, with greying and thinning hair.

"Well... you know... your fried chicken was his favorite," Lesley said proudly.

I could see in Nicky's eyes that she missed an old friend.

"Mom won't let him come here. He had a heart attack a few years ago and she's watching him like a hawk. That's why he spends the summer in Canada. My mom hates going fishing so it's his chance to have some alone time and to eat whatever he likes."

"Well, you tell Saul that I said hello."

"I'll do that."

Nicky leaned forward and asked her a question in a low voice as if I couldn't hear her. "Now tell me Lesley, what's a good respectable girl like you hanging out with someone like Max?"

Lesley smirked. "Everyone thought I was the good girl in the family but I'm not. I don't mind getting my hands dirty and Max had a reputation for being respected on the street. I requested her as a partner."

I was flattered by her defense of her choice. The petty bureaucrats in charge never got their hands dirty.

Nicky laughed at Lesley's statement. "You'll certainly get your hands dirty. You know that Max here has managed to fuck over all of her partners, like Ed?"

"Ed? Yeah, everyone knows what happened to poor Ed." She made her adorable giggle.

"Doesn't that scare you?" Nicky asked.

"Max? She's a pussycat, isn't she?"

We all had a good laugh at her last comment.

"Well... you watch yourself," Nicky said.

"I had three older brothers. I think I'll manage."

I stepped between them. "Sorry to end this lovefest but we only have an hour for lunch. Then she has to be in the station for an interview with the department's psychiatrists. Maybe it's to determine if she's crazy for choosing me as her partner."

"Max... I told you, the examination's routine... you just won't believe me," my new partner protested.

"Just teasing Lesley. Can't help it," I confessed. "Never been a fan of the shrinks. They tell me what I already know... that my life is fucked up."

Lesley shrugged her shoulders at me. "Whatever," her body language said to me.

"C'mon," said Nicky. She went to the prime table in front of a picture window and lifted the "Reserved" sign and waved her hand for us to take our seats on the red vinyl benches.

"Only the best for Max," said Nicky, and meaning it.

"Usual?" she asked me.

I nodded.

"And you honey?"

"If the usual is fried chicken, then I'll have the usual as well."

"Got it."

I watched Nicky maneuver her wide hips through the crowded dining room as Lesley and I snacked on fresh baked bread. Lesley's head was on a swivel, noticing anyone and everyone who was eating there. Me? I pretty much knew all the regulars at the diner so I was there strictly for Nicky and my guest.

What can I say about Nicky? Nicky was a big girl with a heart just as big. We bonded a decade earlier and our friendship only got deeper as we both assumed positions of responsibility and were dealt some serious real world problems. She was straight, and had a series of boyfriends, and an ex, but no one to call her husband.

When I met her she was fifty pounds lighter and with her mother's good looks Nicky had no trouble attracting male companionship. As close friends, Nicky shared with me the details of all of her sexual exploits. Nicky finally settled on a tall, good looking man who seemed to be a good match but turned out to be a worthless drunk. I should know because I've always had a problem with the bottle, and have burned almost as many bridges as he had. They dated for a few years and then got married. The marriage lasted two long and tumultuous years. But Nicky's challenges were even bigger now, helping manage a busy and thriving restaurant with her father in failing health.

As I was pondering Nicky's responsibilities, she came to our table with a pasted on smile. I could tell something was eating at her.� � � � � � � � � � � � �

"Hey Nicky, what's up?" I asked her.

"Dad's had a relapse," she finally confessed. "Mom's with him in the hospital day and night. That leaves me to run the restaurant."

Shit. I knew her father had liver cancer, but last I was told it was in remission.

"I'm so sorry to hear that."

"I was always dreading this day."

"How can I help?"

Her father's hospitalization must have come as a shock, even though Gustavo was in poor health for several months. Nicky had never planned out what she would do once her father was unable to run the diner, and now that day was now upon her. I wanted to help of course, in any way that I could, but Nicky being Nicky, she was probably going to try to do everything herself and in the process run herself into the ground.

"Don't have time now, but I need to talk to you about that Max." She grasped my hand between hers and squeezed it. "Soon."

I wasn't going to press her. She looked like she was overwhelmed and I didn't want to make it worse. But soon it had to be, because I knew the diner was smack in the middle of the territory controlled by a Vietnamese gang and I suspected that was what she wanted to talk to me about.

Lesley dipped her hand in the basket to get another piece of bread.

"What you thinking about?" she asked me, taking a big bite out of the stretchy homemade bread.

"About Nicky. About the gang she'll have to deal with."

"You mean Trong Lai?" she asked me.

"Precisely. You've done your homework." I was impressed by her local knowledge.

"My dad used to come home and tell me about his job and what was going on. Now it's second nature for me to ask these types of questions."