Hinky (10)

Yates’ dinner with Clive ended before it was over, which is to say that Clive excused himself to go to the men’s room and walked out leaving the bill for his new best friend that he never had. It was becoming his signature move. Yates was frustrated by the proliferation of unanswered questions concerning Clive’s agenda and it was beginning to feel like one big tease as orchestrated by a woman. Not that women ever teased Yates; he wasn’t the sort of man that inspired such fun. They relented, bargained or, in the case of his ex-wife, blackmailed but never teased.

Looking at the bedside clock, Yates saw that it was just after four in the morning and he still hadn’t fallen asleep. He was wrestling with too many demons to identify them each by name, but they all came to wear the face of Clive as they paraded in front of his consciousness taunting him with unsolvable problems.

What troubled Yates more than anything else was realizing the anger that usually sustained him was slipping away in favor of an indefinable dread. He felt like a suspect already in a trap ready to be sprung. It was a frame of mind completely alien to him.

Recognizing that he wasn’t about to be sleeping anytime soon, Yates went to the fridge and opened a beer. He gave some thought to what his options outside law enforcement might be. After a few moments’ reflection, he saw that he didn’t have any. He was not what would be termed ‘customer friendly’ and the few private security gigs he’d moonlighted convinced him that he didn’t give a damn about protecting private property at what amounted to minimum wage. PI work was equally distasteful in that there were too many lines that couldn’t be crossed, which could be ignored as a sworn officer and, especially, as a Sergeant.

Yates concluded that he needed the protective coloring that being a policeman provided. In spite of himself, he laughed recalling his wife’s comment about getting famous or smart. Yates thought that her eight-to-five odds against either occurring were probably generous. He wondered what the odds might be of his getting lucky. Anyone could get lucky.

More to follow...

(c) 2006 Stephen Mitchell