Top Dog

I had dozed off watching a court TV show, when a knock on the door pulled me from my peaceful repose. I thought about just ignoring it, but that was not to happen when whoever was on the other side of the door began to punch impatiently on the doorbell. Tossing aside the throw blanket that was over my bare legs, I snagged my jeans off the back of the couch, shimmying into them as I called out, “ Yeah, yeah, I’m coming!” I made sure my voice held my obvious irritation.

As I zipped up my jeans, I put an eye to the peephole only to reveal an empty hall. “Damn!” I hissed in a whisper. It was the cops, they were the only ones I knew that would pull the tactic of standing on either side of the door. Hiding just out of sight of the peephole was so typical.

My irritation was now becoming hostility; I hated cops more than I hated telemarketers. At least I could hang up on telemarketers. Cops, on the other hand, were as tenacious as cockroaches and just as hard to get rid of. “Who is it?” I growled, feeling the heat of my anger burning up my neck to my ears.

“Ms. Peterson, we would like to talk to you,” said the faceless voice of a woman.

Cripes, this was getting worse by the second. Female cops were vicious. At least they weren’t carrying a search warrant, the worthless door that separated us would have been battered in and I would be eating carpet. That thought I didn‘t relish, considering the carpet wasn‘t all that clean, as could be told by the rather unsavory, dirty brown that was once a beige.

Taking my time, I undid the deadbolt and the double latches, but left the chain locked in place. I’m not that foolhardy. I was gonna let them know that I was being wary and they would have to pick gently to get whatever it was they wanted from me. Slowly, I opened the door, taking a stance to brace the door should the witches decide to get cute and force their way in. The door opened on the left so I was given a view down to the right of the hall. Two plain-clothes females stood there in their self-righteous glory. One was a longhaired blonde with a cheap perm, carrying a walkie-talkie. The other was a mousy looking woman wearing a loose-fitting jogging suit to hide her failing girlish figure to middle age. Neither wore make-up, which was typical; they weren’t here to win any beauty contest and I sure as hell wasn’t interested in either of them. It was that third woman on the left who had my full attention. It was a rarity for them make their visits{/} in threes. Not being able to see her made me all the more wary. The two that I could see were not carrying any obvious weapons, but I knew they were there. Cops always packed a gun, not necessarily in plain view.

I made it known that I was very aware of their tactic. Having given the two on the right the once over, I turned my head to the left to speak to the unseen third cop. “What do you want?” I asked with a distinct edge to my voice.

Knowing she wasn’t fooling me, the third female cop took a step into my sight. She was a huge, morbidly obese woman. She was sporting a butch haircut and dressed in a powder blue sweat suit to hide her bulk within its looseness. She was probably divorced and carrying a grudge. With my luck, a grudge that would be towards any good looking gal representative of the one that had taken her husband’s affections away from her. Hell, if she looked that way while married, I could understand why he left her.

“Ms. Peterson, I’m Sergeant Keaton. These are Officers Mayes and Chaplin. May we come in? We won’t be taking up too much of your time, just want to ask you a few questions,” the Bull asked. Her upper lip curled at the corner, giving her a menacing look that announced that I'd better not refuse.

Well, it was backfiring, I was not about to be intimidated by her. To prove it, I smiled coyly just to goad her. Probably not the best thing for me to do in light of the fact that she was a servant of the law. I remained silent for a few seconds, noticing the little tic at the corner of her right eye. That suggested I was really starting to get under her skin, my smile broadened knowing this.

“Yeah, gimme a second,” I announced, so they wouldn‘t think I was going to ignore them. I closed the door to slip the chain from its position. Swinging it wide open to allow the girth of the Bull in, followed by her two cohorts. I closed the door behind them, not bothering with the locks. How much safer could I be with three female cops in my tiny abode? Besides, I wanted that door unfettered if I needed to make good a fast escape.

I flicked on the halogen floor lamp, flooding the room with bright, white light. Although the place was essentially a dump, my tastes in furnishings were beyond the norm. I had it decorated in a Southwestern motif. American Indian hand-woven baskets and hand painted pottery filled in the place between the two over-stuffed chairs of beige, light pastel pink and powder blue. Between the chairs and the matching couch was a blonde, knotted pine coffee table. A lovely Thunderbird Kachina stood proudly next to a clay bowl filled with dried red chili peppers. On the near wall there hung a large painting of a Navajo chief astride a paint pony.

Blondie and the Mouse appreciatively admired the decor, while Bull just plopped down on my couch, daring to give me a smirk on that fat, swarthy face of hers.

Picking up the blanket I had moments earlier tossed off, I carefully folded and draped it over the back of the couch before picking up the remote to the large screen TV and snapped it off. The judge on the screen was silenced before she could render her verdict.

Primly sitting down, hands folded to rest in my lap, I gave Bull my coy smile again, “So, what is it you want to ask me? Certainly not to ask me to make a contribution to the Retired Police Officers Fund.”

The Bull made a feeble attempt to disguise her scowl by turning it into a sour smile; something that made her face a caricature of a bulldog, the heavy rolls of her jowls quivered with disdain.

“Ms. Peterson,” her voice cracking from feminine to masculine, “I’m not going to mince words here. We know what you did. Your record is proof that you have done this before.” She paused to let her words sink in, hoping I would break. I wasn’t about to break. I wouldn’t give this cow that pleasure. There can only be one Top Dog, the Bull certainly wasn't that.

“Sergeant Keaton, I’ve been clean for the past two years. My time in one of the State’s finest establishments taught me the error of my ways. I am a rehabilitated woman,” I replied firmly, sitting up a little straighter. I was surprised that I was able to contain my mirth. I wanted so badly to laugh in her face. I maintained my composure and straight face as I stood up, signaling the end to this line of questioning.

The Bull glared up at me like she would eat me up alive and pick her teeth with one of my denuded bones.

“Ms. Peterson, this isn’t over. I have a gut feeling that you are still feeding your habit,” Bull spitted out, not hiding her obvious disgust with me. “I’m going to catch you,” she announced, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

“Well, until you do, which isn‘t going to happen,“ I replied coolly, walking back to the door to show them out, “we have nothing left to discuss.”

Blondie and Mouse were already back on their feet and following me. They knew it was folly to try and force a confession from me. The Bull, however, would have loved to beaten one out of me. With a motion borne of frustrated anger, Bull swung her ponderous girth up off the couch with a grunt.

The two other officers were waiting for their superior in the hallway. The walkie-talkie hissed to life in Blondie’s hand. She turned away to mumble some code or another into the thing.

Bull was trying to go nose-to-nose with me before she left. She towered over me by at least eight inches, so it was more like my nose to her bosom. This conjured a sickening thought of me facing those pendulous breasts, staring at me with enormous nipple eyes.

Sergeant Keaton opened her mouth to say something, but it seemed like she thought better of it. The scent of one of those cinnamon strips did little to cover her halitosis. She brushed pass me to join her colleagues. I didn’t wait for a good-bye and closed the door on them, quickly throwing the deadbolt and putting the chain back into place.

I returned to the couch, pulling up the cushion that had bore Bull’s bulk and pulled out the plastic bag that bore the words “Bed, Bath and Beyond” in green letters. I replaced the cushion, as I sat down on its mate. I opened the bag like a child opening a Halloween bag of goodies. Reaching in, I pulled out the paper/fabric slips counting them as I removed each one. There were fifty-nine of them. All labels stating, “UNDER PENALTY OF LAW THIS TAG NOT TO BE REMOVED EXCEPT BY THE CONSUMER”.

Each one had been torn off a pillow or a mattress or whatever bore them at B,B&Bs throughout the city. I really do hate stupid laws, and I was Top Dog in fooling stupid cops.