The door was locked but I had a key. I went on in to Molly’s living quarters beyond the office. She wasn’t around. Probably down the hill by the lake.
The night air was chilly, though it was summer, high summer. Of course it’s always cool on the lake, nights. I don’t like the lake much. It’s pretty, like a picture in a travel book, with the neon reflected on the rippling water and all that sort of shit. I’m not much for pretty things, except for pretty things like Molly. Or most any woman.
Down the gravel hill path and onto the beach I went, keeping my hand over the holstered rod at all times. Never could tell when somebody would catch up with me and then all my fun and games’d be over. So I kept my hand over the rod constant, so I could take the pleasure of blowing out some guy’s guts before they took me. Sure they said I was a nut, a psycho (don’t you believe it!) but I was having a hell of a good time being one.
Molly was standing on the beach in a blouse and loose skirt that was blowing up over her thighs in the gentle lake breeze. She was looking out onto the picture-book lake, watching the easy movement of the waves.
She’d heard me coming, knew I was there without looking around.
“Hi, Harry. Nice night.”
“Hi.”
“How about some supper? I could go back up and fix us some.”
I didn’t answer her right away, so she turned and looked at me.
She was pretty, pretty near, her nice hazel-blue eyes the best part about her. Her hair was all right, too, for being all bleached out.
“Well, Harry, what do you say? Is it going to be supper? It’s a really nice night, maybe you just want to go for a row or something?”
I grabbed her at the waist, pulled her in close to me.
“A row, Harry? How’s that sound? The boat’s tied down at the dock. Come on, Harry, what do you want to do?”
I squeezed. Tight. “Trouble with you, Molly, is that you don’t know when to shut up. You shouldn’t talk so damn much.”
“Harry...” She laughed. I was squeezing her so hard it must have hurt like hell, but she only laughed. “Jesus, you’re mean, Harry, you’re one mean son of a bitch.”
I squeezed even harder. “And that’s what you like about me, ain’t it, baby?”
She threw back her head and laughed some more. “You’re goddamn right, Harry, you’re goddamn right.”
I latched onto her blouse and ripped it half off in one yank.
“Hey, you bastard! Take it easy on the clothes.”
“What’s wrong, honey? Thought you liked your Harry to be mean.”
She stood there and the cold got at her, turning her blue and goose-pimply. She clutched her arms over her breasts and her teeth chattered as she said, “Be... be-being mean’s one thing, Har... Harry... But wasting my damn m... money like that’s an... another.”
I wasn’t worried, even if I’d cost her some in torn clothes and the like. What the hell. I reached for her skirt to rip that off her, too, but she jumped out of reach.
“Damn you, Harry! Damn you!” But she wasn’t as mad as she was acting. “I’ll unhook it, damn it, don’t rip it off!”
She got out of the skirt before I could get my hands on it. She walked up to me and I slugged her right in the teeth and she went down like soft rope. I gripped her shoulders and pulled her up and bit into her mouth.
“Oh... Oh, Jesus, Harry, I love you...”
I laughed and bit into her bloody lips again. I liked the taste.
After I left Molly’s I stopped at the diner along Fourth Street for a bite to eat. Usually I ate at Molly’s, but she had this thing about if I came to supper, fine, I can have supper and what else I wanted after, but if I took what else first, I could go out and buy my own damn chow after.
The counterman’s name was Lou and he said, “Evening, Harry, what’s it to be?”
“Gimme number two on the breakfasts, Lou.”
I sat down on a stool at the counter and brushed the crumbs away from in front of me. A guy sat next to me sipping at his coffee. He turned and smiled and started in to talking like people do to cops sometimes, like they’re trying to get in good with them or something. He sounded like a salesman; they’re always getting friendly with cops. That’s how a lot of them find a woman for the night in towns. But you’d think a guy could tell just looking at me I’m no goddamn pimp. Anyway, he starts in to talking:
“You always have breakfast here, officer, at eight o’clock in the evening like this?”
“Sure I do, mister, if I don’t eat at my girl’s place.”
“Why breakfast? Any special reason, or you just like it?”
“I’m on night duty this week, pal, just got up. So I’m having breakfast.”
“Oh.” Back to his coffee for a minute, then: “Hear you’ve been having some trouble around here lately.”
“Yeah,” I said, trying not to get pissed at the guy; I hate pests, but I had to grin and bear it with guys like this so’s folks wouldn’t find out about the “beast” in me. “Yeah, trouble.”
“I don’t envy you guys on night duty when there’s a lunatic running loose. You work in pairs, surely?”
“Nope. Can’t afford to. Ain’t enough men to go around.”
“One man to a car? You have a small force, huh?”
“Yeah, the wages for a cop ain’t worth crap.”
“Pay is low, huh? That’s the trouble everywhere. It’s a wonder they find decent guys like you to take the job, fella.”
“Thanks, pal.”
“When a town pays low wages to cops, lots of times it attracts scum. You know, some nut who wants to wear a uniform and a badge. And carry a gun and a club.”
I turned around on my stool and looked the guy over. A short guy in a brown suit, with small blue eyes in an oval face and receding gray-brown hair. Little punk.
I said, “I don’t mean to be nasty, mister, but don’t put cops down, okay? They get paid nothing while they work their tails off for the public. Jesus, the b.s. people hand out to cops! How would you like to be a cop where there’s a psycho loose? You got some nerve, buddy, some nerve, you and all the others who don’t appreciate what cops do for you. Police brutality, police brutality, that’s all we get from Mister Public. Why, it wouldn’t be safe to walk the streets at night without us suckers in blue to do the dirty work for John Q. Citizen.”
The guy was sort of shaking now, spilled a little of his coffee. “Look... look... I didn’t mean anything... I just think you guys should get paid better, that’s all. That’s all.”
I smiled at him, both rows of whites. “Want sugar’n cream in your coffee, pal?”
He nodded nervously. I passed them to him and he poured a touch of each into his cup, then started in stirring, still nervous-like.
“I always take sugar’n cream in mine,” I said. “Can’t stand coffee black. Too damn bitter.”
My breakfast came and I started in on it, three pancakes, two sausages, some scrambled eggs, milk, and coffee. The guy next to me went through a hamburger and fries. Or tried to anyway. He was so damn nervous he could hardly swallow a bite. I convinced him to stay on with me for another cup of coffee. After a bit we started in walking out of the diner together, having gotten more palsy with each other.
Out in the cold night air he put a hand on my shoulder and said, “You seem like a decent guy to me, officer. I didn’t mean for you to take offense back there or anything. I just meant for you to see how I felt about cops getting paid bad. I mean, they should pay you guys more and keep out the riffraff, is what I mean. Those guys that just want to be a cop so they can hurt people and get away with it, you know, wear a blue suit and badge and carry a gun. No offense, right?”
I said sure. Did he want a lift?
“Well... my hotel’s just a couple blocks, officer.”
“Come on, I’ll take ya there.”