The Tipsy Gull, page 19
part #1 of Danny Barbosa Series
“Excuse me,” Danny said.
“You must be Detective Barbosa. I’m Scott Shelton, come on in.”
Danny cocked his head. With floppy blond hair, and a baby face, Scott looked nineteen. “You old enough to be detective, kid?”
“Yeah, yeah, I know I look young, but I’m actually twenty-nine.” He stood and shook Danny’s hand. Sitting back down, Scott motioned to the empty desk. “That’s yours.”
Danny flopped down and ran his fingers through his hair. He was going to miss the bigger office with the fridge.
“Detective Stone gathered your belongings and brought them over Monday morning.” Scott pointed to a box in the corner.
Danny felt a twinge of betrayal, evidently Ben knew about this demotion when they’d met after Danny’s high-speed chase.
“We’re way behind, so it’s great to have you aboard. We're a bit like Heinz 57; we handle everything the other guys don't get to. What I’m thinking is we could…” Scott droned on.
Of course, it wasn’t Ben’s fault. The last couple of weeks had been hell, ending with his demotion. He didn’t care what they called it. It was a demotion.
“Detective Barbosa?”
Danny looked up. “Yeah, I’m here. Just call me Barbosa or Danny.”
“Sorry, sir. I mean, Danny. It’s just, uh, well you’re a legend to us new detectives.”
“Jeez Scott, I’m only eight years older than you. You don’t have to make me feel like a grandpa.”
“Sorry, sir.”
“Enough with the sir!” Danny snapped. He shook his head and looked at his new partner. “Forgive me, this demo…transfer caught me off guard. One day I’m working the biggest case of my career, then it’s snatched from under me, and I find myself. Well, you know what I mean.”
Scott frowned. “I know this isn’t the most glamorous position, but it’s important. Anyway, the rumor is, you’d asked for the transfer. I guess not?”
Danny shook his head and shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, it’s water under the bridge, so let’s make the most of it. You were saying we’re like a Heinz 57, doing a little of everything?”
“You were listening.” Scott smiled and continued where he’d stopped, ticking each task off his fingers. “We investigate series criminals. We’re the liaison with other agencies and maintain the data bank of stolen property for the whole county. We assist other units when they’re shorthanded–”
“Okay, okay. I get it.” Danny pointed to a large file cabinet. “What’s that?”
Scott rolled his eyes. “That’s Sergeant Smithy’s thing. He’s like a hundred years old, and doesn’t trust computers. He wants us to keep a hard copy of all theft reports that come in from other police departments. Support staff is supposed to enter them in the data bank, before forwarding us a copy. When we’re not busy we double check that they’ve been entered correctly. Then shred the hard copy.”
Danny sighed. “We’re detectives, not secretaries. You want me say something to him?”
“Have you met Sergeant Smith?”
“Good point.” Danny recalled the old-school sergeant who had to be close to seventy. He refused to retire or adapt to modern times.
“Anyway, he said…” Scott mimed quotations. “… ‘When we’re not busy’ so it’s pretty far behind.”
Danny arrived home from work and slammed the door shut. Zoe had been dancing around his feet and now shot off to her spot under the table. Grabbing a beer from the fridge, he popped the tab. He hesitated. Three days sober. Did he want to start over? Fuck it! He downed the beer in two swallows while standing there, then grabbed another and swung the door closed. Bottles clanked together. Zoe crept to the front door and whimpered. After he let her out, he sat on his recliner and surfed through channels.
Danny took out the trash and folded laundry that he’d washed on his days off. He stayed busy while sulking. The phone rang and he recognized the +63 Country code. He was in a bad mood and hesitated to answer it. On the fourth ring, he sighed and did.
“Hi, Mahal. How was work?”
“What’s it to you. You left.” Danny fired back.
After a moment, Tala replied. “Mama was dying. That’s why I came back. You know that.”
“Whatever.” Danny grabbed another beer and popped the tab.
“Is that a beer I hear? What happened to your meetings? You were doing so well.”
“I had a bad day, okay. Just leave me alone.”
The silence on the phone drowned out everything else. He regretted putting his foot in his mouth.
“Okay, I’ll let you go.”
“Don’t hang up. I’m sorry, it’s just that–” Danny stopped as the dial tone buzzed in his ear. “Damn it.”
He called her back and it went straight to voice mail. He hung up.
Danny let Zoe back in, popped a frozen Banquet chicken dinner in the oven and flopped back down on his recliner, watching a Padres/Dodger game while his mind wandered to work. How could he capture the Chameleon if he wasn’t a homicide detective? He’d have to trust that Ben and McKenzie would make progress. He felt terrible about snapping at Tala. She had a right to be upset about him drinking. I had three days. How will I ever get to thirty if I’m going to drink every time I’m pissed?
“I’m Danny, I’m an alcoholic.” He mimicked himself at the AA meeting while getting his dinner out of the oven. Thirty days. He shook his head and took another swallow of his beer. Sitting on the recliner, he tossed Zoe a piece of chicken. With a wag of her tail, she caught it in her mouth and trotted under the kitchen table.
“Grab me another beer while you’re there,” Danny called out.
He called Tala back and apologized for yelling at her, and for drinking. She asked him what had happened at work to piss him off and he told her about his transfer. When she asked why he got transferred he relayed what Hawthorne had said. As the words tumbled out of his mouth, the truth sacked him like an all-out blitz. He had been out of control. When had he started drinking at work? Or going to bars and driving home drunk. He’d always been a drinker, but after his wild college days, he’d settled down when married Tala. This was an eye opener. Whether he was alcoholic or not, he’d crossed the line in his drinking.
“Don’t get mad at me for saying this. But maybe it’s for the better. You’ll be less stressed. Hey, maybe you can bowl again. I know how much you miss that.”
“You always know how to say the right thing.” Danny smiled. “You’re right, I need to make the most of this.”
They talked about her mama. Her temperature was back to normal and holding. She’d even got out of bed and walked around the house for a bit. He was happy to hear that.
When he hung up, he called Paul and told him about the transfer. Like the good friend he was, Paul listened as Danny vented. He also told him about his new sponsor, Tom. Paul was familiar with Tom and told Danny he’d made a great choice.
“I know you probably have a full team since the league starts this Monday, but I want to get back into it. Do you know if any other teams have an opening?” Danny asked.
“Another team? You traitor.” Paul laughed. “This is perfect timing, buddy. Our anchor bowler called me yesterday and backed out, so we could use you.”
Danny’s eyes lit up. “Oh, yeah. That’d be awesome. How high can you go?” The league had a maximum entering average of 825 for a four-man team.
“We’re at 607 now, so we can go up to 218.” Danny could hear the excitement in Paul’s voice.
Danny smiled. “The last time I bowled I booked 217.”
“I know. I looked it up. Let’s do it then,” Paul said. “And get a hold of Tom to let him know you slipped.”
Danny texted Tom, who made it harder by texting back, ‘call me’. They talked for a while and Tom lectured him for drinking before calling him or someone else. Then he suggested Danny attend a meeting that night before he drank anymore.
Danny hung up and noticed he’d received a text from Jenny. Why had he been so attracted to her? Was it just the alcohol? Sure, she was beautiful, sexy, and young, liked to drink, and made him feel important. There was definitely chemistry there, but he had a commitment to Tala, and seeing Jenny again would not help his marriage. He scrolled down to her contact, selected DETAILS, and hovered his finger over the BLOCK button. After a moment's thought, he tapped and confirmed. The text message conversation disappeared.
CHAPTER 24
The days dragged, but Danny had to admit he was less stressed. Although he’d been officially removed him from the San Diego Slayer case, it lurked in the back of his mind. At times, he sat in the cramped office and reviewed evidence he’d dug up when assigned to Homicide. Scott knew about it, but never complained. Danny got along great with his new partner and liked the idea of being someone’s mentor.
He attended his AA meetings daily and hadn’t had a drink since last Wednesday when he found out about the transfer. That was six days ago. He shot a disappointing 589 series last night in his first night of bowling. He wanted to blame it on his equipment but recalled the razzing his teammates had given him when his ball sailed right and into the gutter in the fifth frame of the first game. But it was at least partly the fault of his outdated balls, so he decided to buy a new bowling ball or two before next Monday. He also made an appointment to meet the attorney, Robert Preston, who had sent him the registered letter. While he wouldn’t tell Danny exactly what it was about, the attorney assured him it was good news. Danny was skeptical, but his curiosity got the better of him.
He leaned forward in his desk while Scott described a counterfeit ring making passports, birth certificates, social security cards, and driver’s licenses. “We’ll work on that next, but first I need a smoke.”
Danny smiled, this would be real detective work. Scott brought in a box of Krispy Kreme donuts a couple of times a week, and Danny took a bite out of his second maple bar when the phone rang. “Special Investigations Unit, Detective Barbosa speaking.”
He jotted down notes while talking to the caller, then told her he’d be on his way. When Scott came back from his break, Danny said. “We got a call from a bar which confiscated a fake ID. Let’s go check it out.”
Scott hung his cigarette out the window as they headed to the bar. “If this was a couple of nights ago and they forgot to give the patrol officer the ID, why didn’t you tell them to call patrol?”
“One. I need to get out of the office occasionally.” Danny slowed down and turned into a large parking lot. The overhead sign read, Gold Finger’s Gentlemen’s Club.
Scott looked up. “You’re kidding me, right?”
“Nope, that’s reason number two.” It was still early in the day, so he found parking in the front row. “Are you ready to see tits?”
Scott smiled, and Danny followed him into the strip bar. They stopped in the foyer, waiting for their eyes to adjust to the darkness. The wall in front of them moved, then spoke in a deep voice. “Ten-dollar cover charge.”
Danny squinted in the dark. This huge man would have dwarfed the offensive linemen that Danny had played with at USC.
A sultry voice sounded from behind the giant. “Relax, Moose, they’re here for me. Come on in, detectives.”
She introduced herself as Victoria, and they followed her around the mammoth bouncer to retrieve the ID left at the bar. Music started up, and they passed a stage where an Asian woman began to dance. She had large implants, a tiny thong, and six-inch stilettos. She waggled her finger at Scott.
“Oh, uh me? Well, hi there.” Scott stopped to watch her dance. He bobbed his head from side to side with the techno music.
Danny grabbed his partner by the back of his collar and pulled him forwards. “Come on Romeo, keep moving.”
Scott chuckled and gave the dancer a ‘call me’ gesture.
At the bar, Victoria introduced the bartender, Rico, then excused herself and headed to her office. Scott headed to the restroom and Danny waited while the bartender made a mixed drink—Jack and Coke. Rico set it on a tray next to Danny. He could smell the whiskey. With six days of sobriety, he didn’t need this temptation.
Rico retrieved the counterfeit ID out of a drawer and handed it to him. Danny squinted, and turned it over. Wow, this does look real. One of the waitresses approached the bar, wearing a thong and low-cut t-shirt, tied at the waist. She winked at Danny, then said to the bartender, “Rico, scratch the Jack and Coke. He wants a shot of Johnny Walker Black, instead.”
“I already made it,” Rico whined.
“He’s a big tipper.” The blonde server ran her nails along Rico’s arm, while pulling her top up, flashing her tits. “Can you unmake it for me?”
“Okay, hon.” Rico glanced toward the manager’s office, then leaned forward and squeezed her breast. “For you, I will.”
She blew a kiss to Danny before trotting off. He felt a stir in his loins and eyed the drink. Rico nodded his head toward it. “You want it? I’d hate to let it go to waste.”
Danny’s mouth watered. “No that’s okay, but thanks.” He glanced toward the restroom. Come on Scott, hurry it up.
A long-legged blonde dancer came on stage next, wearing a pink Charger’s jersey. Jenny floated into his memory. The smell of the whiskey tantalized him, and he glanced at the drink again.
“Go ahead, take it.” Rico picked up the glass and set it in front of Danny. “You’re in plainclothes. I think you’re allowed one drink, right?”
“Yeah, that’s right.” Danny glanced at the restroom. No sign of Scott.
Hand shaking, he lifted the glass to his lips. People he’d met at different meetings, sharing their stories, and telling him to call before taking that first drink, rushed into his mind. Hawthorne’s voice intruded, I want you on your best behavior. Guilt overcame him and he put the glass down, untouched. He mumbled to the bartender, “I’m good” and rushed out the door.
Outside, he took deep breaths. His hands shook. A seagull hopped around the parking lot, pecking at food. He thought of his sponsor and did a double take. The gull had one leg. Goosebumps crawled over his skin. Danny rubbed his eyes and looked again. The bird was gone.
When he had dinner with Tom last weekend, he’d insisted Danny start the steps as soon as possible. While Danny was reluctant to admit he was powerless over alcohol, he had no doubt that his life had become unmanageable. Tom declared Step One satisfied and moved to Step Two—came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.
This is where Danny had issues. He’d lost faith in the church when he was younger and didn’t believe in God. Tom had explained God didn’t have to be his Higher Power. It could be the AA fellowship, or anything he could relate to for now. Danny told him about seeing a one-legged seagull even before he heard Tom’s story and jokingly asked if that could be his Higher Power. Tom didn’t take it as a joke, but as a sign, and wholeheartedly agreed that it would work for now.
“You got it?” Scott asked, shaking Danny out of his reverie.
“Yeah, let’s get out of here.” Danny exhaled. Maybe he’d imagined the gull, but it had a calming effect on him.
He drove off while Scott turned the ID over in his hands. “It looks real. This is from the counterfeiting ring I was telling you about.”
Danny’s mind flashed to the exchange he’d had with Nick, his old teammate that bounced at Moonshine Flats:
‘Was the ID fake?’
‘I don’t think so, but if it was, then it was a damn good one.’
“Green.” Scott pointed to the signal light atop the intersection.
Danny started forward. “Let’s interview the kid who used it. A Cory Sarkissian.”
Scott agreed and reviewed the police report from the responding officer. “It says the bartender became suspicious because the customer looked like a high school kid, and when he downed his shot of tequila, he coughed it up. When the bartender tried to question him, he ran toward the door and was corralled by Moose.”
Danny laughed.
Scott obtained the suspect’s address from the report. The house was in Torrey Pines, an exclusive subdivision of La Jolla. As Danny drove past the luxury homes, he thought of the Cooper’s home. Stan and Marge’s house was not as exquisite as these, but it would have been more than nice enough for him and Tala. With a sigh, he parked in front of the Sarkissian residence, and the two of them walked up the long brick pathway. Bees buzzed about the beautiful red, yellow, and oranges flowers bordering each side, while butterflies fluttered amongst them. The smell of freshly cut grass lingered in the air.
Scott rang the doorbell, and a dapper middle-aged man with dark features opened the door, wearing a blue tailor-cut suit. Wide set eyes, over a Roman nose, flashed at their car and back to them.
“Good afternoon, Officers. What can I help you with?” He asked with a look of disdain.
His arrogance wasn’t lost on Danny. He puffed his chest and took a step forward, looking down at the obnoxious man. “I’m Detective Barbosa, and this is my partner Detective Shelton. We’re here to speak with Cory Sarkissian.”
Not the bit least intimidated, the man quipped. “I’m his father, Alec, and I’m running late for work. Can you tell me what this is about?”
Danny straightened his tie. “It’s regarding your son’s arrest two days–”
Alec interrupted. “Cory’s seventeen and his only crime was one of curiosity. He didn’t attempt to buy any alcoholic beverages from that establishment. There’s no need to have detectives involved.”
“Is that the story he told you? Actually, he did buy alcohol and-” Danny started.
“Detective, I have no reason to believe some uneducated, middle-aged, ex-football player, high school flunky, working as a bartender, over my son.”
Danny flinched and took a deep breath.
Scott stepped forward. “Sir, regardless whether he ordered a drink or not, your son used an illegal, counterfeit ID to obtain entrance to a club that is strictly twenty-one and over. While you might not think–”
