“Asshole lawyers,” I muttered, my imagination conjuring a very satisfying picture of shooting Alvarado in the face with my Taser. And then shooting his lawyer.
The conversation between Alvarado and Peter continued out of earshot, with Peter rebuffing several attempts at affection—a hand swatted away from Peter’s cheek, a hard shove when Alvarado moved in closer. Most of the ‘discussion’ was one-sided, with Peter answering nonverbally so often that I figured he could find work as a bobble head.
Luis pointed his cigarette at the pair. “Doesn’t seem to be about Gai—” He was interrupted by his cell phone ringing. “Martinez,” he answered. “When? … Where?” He started the car while I frowned at him. “Nah. Keep him there.” After clicking the phone off, he gave a relieved puff of air. “They got Gaines.”
“When? Where?” Today was apparently Repeat What Luis Says day.
“Walked into the station and demanded protection. Seems he suspects a hit is out on him.”
“Gee, can’t think why.” I leaned over and picked up an empty coffee cup from the floor and busied my fingers picking it to pieces.
“He’s in lockup,” Luis said and then added, “for protection,” with air quotes.
I tapped my index finger against the dash, something I was prone to do when puzzled. The gesture always helped me think. It annoyed Luis. I considered it payback for the premature death I was sure he was going to give me by way of secondhand smoke. “You know, yesterday, sitting there across from Alvarado and his five-hundred-dollar-an-hour mouthpiece, with this mountain of questions we needed to ask, all I wanted to do was ask him one question,” I stuck the crook of my elbow out the window. “Why the fuck would he keep a dumbass like Gaines on his payroll?” Luis initiated a smile which never quite materialized as his features contorted. With a concentrated squint, he lifted the cigarette to his lips and twisted to settle his eyes on Alvarado and Peter. I followed his stare, matching my partner’s frown. “Why Gaines?” I asked again.
Luis still appeared contemplative, but I wasn’t done. “You’re Alvarado. You have a lucrative business starting up. Bigger and more complicated with a lot more risk. Lots of cash rolling in. So naturally you pick a two-time loser like Gaines to help handle your entire network? A guy who’s waiting on a third strike? A guy so dumb he gets caught with smack because he forgets to turn his headlights on and turns snitch?”
“Questions like that remind me how you made detective,” Luis replied.
It took five seconds for me to comprehend the insult in that compliment. “Nice,” I grumbled. “Why are we still sitting here?” We needed to be talking to Gaines about this and with him in lockup we no longer needed to follow Alvarado. And besides, I did not want to witness the makeup between Peter and Asshole, if there was going to be one.
Luis shrugged, stared at me too long, and way too intensely. Then he made me choke on my own spit when he casually dropped his cigarette out the window and said, “I thought, since we’re here and all, maybe you wanted to ask Peter the whore for a date. And maybe you could get a few questions in about his boyfriend, too.”
Oh, shit.
I Did Not Have Sexual Relations With That Man. Yet
Silence followed. A long one. Not long enough for me to come up with an appropriate denial, but longer than necessary to seal any doubts Luis might have had at his assumptions.
“Did you pay that boy for sex?”
“It would seem that way,” I said with a lame attempt at humor which, unsurprisingly, fell flat when my voice came out tired and fatalistic.
“Meaning?”
“I didn’t have sex with him, or intend to.” I slanted my eyes, checking Luis’s reaction. That was the truth as I saw it. “Of any kind,” I added hastily at his unblinking stare. “But I did give him money for…contact.” Time moved too slowly, emphasizing my speed-of-light heart rate. At any moment I was destined to either throw up or drown in my own sweat.
“I don't have time for any of your bullshit, Glass. Did you compromise yourself and this case?” Every minute, every second of him studying me was a second closer to the end of my life as I knew it. Bite the bullet and trust him, or lie and twist things to a better light? At this point I could have told Luis that I had suspicions about Peter. That I paid him for information. But I would never have done that to my partner.
Cop partnerships can be more intense than marriages. You ride along with this person, both of your guns weighing heavily on your belts, and you’re completely responsible for this other human being for eight, ten, twelve hours a day, sometimes seven days a week. And not the kind of responsibility that means love and affection in compensation. With your partner, the compensation is protection. You leave the station house knowing that their life is in your hands, and that yours is in theirs. There’s no honeymoon stage, no adjustment period. There’s you and your partner, committing to an absolute trust. You can lie in a marriage and still make it work, but if you lie in a partnership, you put your partner’s career, their life in jeopardy. And if they think you’re willing to abandon that trust, how could they have faith in you?