Many Long Days

                                                                                Many Long Days





    There I was, sitting in my car, waiting for my suspect to arrive, as he always does around six o'clock. My night camera hung heavy around my neck, ready to be used to record his arrival or anything else unusual.  It was a routine assignment doing surveillance work, but little did I know that soon my life could be in danger.

      My name is Joe Patelli and I'm a police detective, though at the time, I'm off duty because of problems with the police department.  I work in Seattle, the city of clouds and rain, but the air is always fresh and clear. Lately, every day is long for me. With little to do in the morning I sleep in late then have a leisurely breakfast, looking over the schedule of my moonlighting job.

    My duty is to spy on a man who is cheating on his wife. Late in the afternoon I have to park near the house where he is meeting someone. There, I'm to take pictures of him and any other suspicious activities. The woman that hired me told me to be careful as her husband sometimes carried a weapon. She was quite nice looking, but somehow it seemed I had met her before. The other thing that bothered me was, she didn't ask much about my experience

    Police work may sound exciting so some, but it's a job where anything can happen, at any time. Much of our job is sitting at a desk, going over reports and dossiers.  The real work is in people contact, trying to outwit your adversary.

    Late that afternoon, I parked down from the house, getting my camera ready.  It was a quiet neighborhood which made it easier for surveillance and close enough, I could see a shadow of someone behind the curtains.  I had to be patient. He usually arrived at the same time every evening but I had to watch for any other contacts with the house. In a way, it was boring work so I often ate cold snacks and smoked cigarettes.

    The air in my car reeked of cold pizza and cigarettes, almost choking me. Quietly, I opened the window a crack for some fresh air.  Outside it was cold and damp, the usual depressing winters of Seattle.  A grove of large oak trees, bare of leaves, partially hid me from view on the street where I parked. The smell of wet leaves, in the gutter made me think of fall. With my mind wandering, it was easy to fall asleep but I had to keep awake.  My client paid well in my moon-lighting job.  She wanted me to record every move her husband made, even the time of day and anything else suspicious. It was an easy assignment as long as I wasn't caught. I made sure my car was dirty, so as to not attract attention and I slumped low in my seat, my camera hidden.

    I was on leave from duty after I had screwed up a case and now I had to make a living for awhile, investigating dirty husband-wife affairs.  It was humiliating to be put on leave, but I deserved it.  After my wife died suddenly three months ago, I just wasn't thinking straight after her death and I screwed up a case. In a murder case, I made the assumption the woman was innocent and we almost sent a man to prison.  I have a tendency to believe a woman while they can be just as wicked as a man.

    We had been married just three years and were in the best years of marriage. We were about to raise a family and she was the love of my life. Her sudden death from cancer stunned me to the point I didn't have much will to live, but suicide was not the answer. I had seen and investigated too many in my line of duty.  It was especially depressing to see young people ending their lives. In one case it was my duty to explain to the family that their son had committed suicide.  It was a difficult thing to do. The problem with me is I often let my emotions take over reason.

    Actually, it felt good to just sit and watch, munching on cheese crackers and nuts, but my health was taking a hit. Smoking and eating cold pizza all the time was not good. Though I was in the shadows, a 7-11 lit up the street in the block ahead. A cross-walk ran across near the intersection and a bus stop was nearby.  The homes lining the street looked like those of the depression days, though some were remodeled with modern windows and aluminum siding.  The only activity was an occasional pedestrian crossing the street and every evening a young girl in a red scarf would be waiting for her bus. She looked so tiny.  Maybe she was an eight year old. It was getting dark making me think a girl her age shouldn't be out alone.

      A dog barked nearby every time a car passed. A noisy crow, perched on a branch above my car cackled raucously. Maybe he knew what I was doing. I was in a rough district where drug dealers prowled the streets, luring new victims. But it didn't bother me.  Someone had to do these jobs. It was a good living for a man with little education.

    At five thirty sharp, a man in a wrinkled suit would buy his usual six pack of beer, taking it to his room to enjoy. In my mind, I could picture him in front of the TV, sipping his bottle of beer. It was my sixth night on surveillance, so I came to know what everyone was doing, knowing all their activities and their habits.  It made me wonder if people were aware of their boring routines in their life.

    My suspect came right on time, carrying a small package, maybe a bucket of chicken to give her before they went to bed. Nothing unusual, just the same every night. Sometimes he brought what looked like a box of pizza. It looked heavy. I laughed to myself when he almost dropped it.  With the window open, I took a shot of his license plate and one of him as he rang the doorbell. He looked fairly typical, wearing a straw hat, which looked good on him. Slender and maybe good-looking, the poor guy just wanted a good time. Maybe his wife was frigid.  My client, his wife, had loads of money, suspicious her husband was trying to get her money if she died.  I couldn't care less.  It was just my job to spy on people. At times, I longed to be with my wife again.  I missed the quiet evenings with her as we sat together, each doing our own thing.  She had never asked much about my job. She knew there was some danger involved and I thought: how ironic she was the first to die.

    The next evening was the same but this time the man at the 7-11 took longer buying his beer.  I wondered why.  The girl in the red scarf, crossed the street, carrying what looked like a violin case.  She was so small, she almost disappeared under the case. This time, my suspect came with another man. That made me sit up and take notice..  It was the first time he had came with someone. Quickly taking a few shots with my telephoto lens, but slumped down when one of them looked around. After they had left. my cell phone vibrated making me jump.  Who would be calling me at this hour?  It was the captain and he said,  "I know you are moon-lighting and I didn't care, but I have a case for you."

    I answered, "I thought I was on leave for three months."

    "You are.' He said, "But this is undercover.  We have an ex-con that we need to look into."

    "But why me?" I said.

    "You know why. You know these guys. You can pal around with them."

    "Okay, Send me the details."

    Now with two undercover jobs, I felt that maybe I could better myself. In my apartment that night, the cat purring on my lap, I began to feel more confident of myself.  The cat was just a stray that adopted me and though I usually don't like cats, she was content to live with me and I enjoyed the warm body purring on me. With two gin tonics down, I fell into a deep sleep in my easy chair, the cat dozing with me.

    The following evening was almost the same, but with one difference.  The man buying his beer at the 7-11, stood as if waiting for someone.  He had never done that before. The young girl, as usual, came to cross the street and the man in the wrinkled suit just stood and stared at her.  I had seen enough perverts on my duty so it made me feel very uncomfortable.  Then, a siren screamed from behind and as it approached, the young girl began to cross the street. Jumping out of my car, I dove for her as the ambulance raced by.  Innocently, she said, "I didn't see him.'

    It was then that I realized she was hard of hearing, seeing her with hearing aids. It was against my better judgment, but I guided her across the street saying, "Be very careful"

    Back in my car, I could see that my suspect was still inside her home. As I browsed through the dossier of my new suspect, using a small light, I wondered what was so suspicious about him.  Everything he was doing was according to the law, except for one thing:  he had lots of money but no job. He told he had inherited the money but they couldn't find any relatives to prove this. 

    Then, my client told me to stop the surveillance for a few days.  I spent time on hanging around bars where I knew my other suspect usually frequented.. But nothing could be seen of him. He was a middle-aged man with a mean look and beady eyes. The report said he could be very dangerous.  His face profile showed a long scar running down from his ear, resulting from a fight in prison. He also had many contacts with drug lords. This concerned me because I had no experience with drug gangs. They could be ruthless and they had no morals about killing anyone that got in their way. So far in my career, I hadn't shot anyone yet, but I knew someday I might have to.  I was trained to shoot to kill if my life or anyone else was in danger.  It was a serious decision to shoot anyone, but that is a cop's job, if necessary.

    The next day began with an ominous beginning.  The captain told me on my cell phone, "Be on the lookout. We heard a rumble about a big drug shipment."

    With nothing new to report, I said, "I still can't find him."

    Sounding irritated, the captain said, "Well, get your ass in gear. He may lead us to the big guys."

    Checking my weapon, I parked the usual place, but I felt a certain uneasiness.  Everything was the same or at least I thought. The girl with the violin case was waiting for her bus and my suspect was in his girlfriend's house. Even the man with his six pack was there. But one thing was different; There were two cars at her house this time.  Nervously taking pictures, I suddenly noticed the girl in the red scarf was not there, and, the bus hadn't arrived yet. I felt something wasn't right. At the bus stop, looking for her, I heard the noise of the two cars starting.  At the same time, I saw a red scarf on the ground next to me.  Horrified, I knew something was wrong.  There, running down the street, was the man in the wrinkled suit, carrying the young girl with the violin case. I knew I had to do something, but the two cars were approaching me with their windows open. For a brief moment, it appeared that the driver was holding something in his hand.  Though it was dark, I saw a glint of light and to my horror, it was a handgun.  As I saw a flash of gun fire, I jumped behind a tree, bullets whizzing around me. Luckily, it was a large tree that shielded me. I tried to fire back at them with pieces of bark flying around me. One large splinter of bark grazed my skull.  Now it was getting serious. The car passed and still concerned of the girl, I ran after the man who was holding her.  With my hands on him, I yelled, "Let her go you slime!"   

    The moment I said that, the girl yelled, "Don't. He's a policeman!"

    To my astonishment, it was detective Jacobs, disguised in the wrinkled suit.  He said, "Sorry. I couldn't tell you. I'm protecting the girl from gun-play."

    Completely bewildered, I said, "What the hell is going on?"

    "Take the girl." He said. "I'll get the others."

    The girl, unaware of the danger, said, "Where is my scarf?"

    "Never mind your scarf." I said, "Let's get you somewhere safe."

   

    At the sound of gunfire. I managed to get her into my car as bullets whizzed nearby.  Slamming it in reverse, and stepping on the gas, I tore back down the street, away from the gun-battle near the seven-eleven. I was so upset that the girl could have been killed by a stray bullet.  I said, "Why are you out so late. You shouldn't be out at night."

    Almost crying, she said in a pouting voice, "I have to take my violin lesson."

    At the police station, after taking the girl home, I said, "Can somebody tell me what's going on?"

    The captain took me into his office saying. "Sorry to use you like that, but it was our only way to get them."

    More puzzled that ever, I said, "Use me. What do you mean?"

    "Well, let's say we had to use you as a form of bait. The house you were watching was the drop off place for the drugs. The woman who hired you to watch her husband is actually our agent."

    "My God!" I said, "Why was I used?"

    "You see.  We needed someone to record all the activities for use in court. We let it out that you were a demoted policeman which gave the drug runners a feeling they were not in danger."

    "Why was detective Jacobs there in the wrinkled suit?" I said,

    "Sorry to tell you, but he was watching you in case you screwed up again. Also, we knew you soft on kids and you would watch the girl in the red scarf.  We were worried about her."

    With a sigh of relief, I said. "Okay, but where does that leave me?"

    The captain gave my badge back, saying. "You did your job. You're back on duty. Just keep your nose clean."

    "Well." I said, "I'm glad the girl is safe."

    Handing me an invitation, the captain said, "She wants you to come to her recital if you can. Here's the ticket."

    Happy the long day was over, I thought to myself; maybe I should go to the girl's recital. It just might inspire me to a better life.



    The End