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Authors: K. C. Constantine

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“Well I’ve read, I can’t remember where right now, but I’m sure I read it somewhere, probably the paper, car thieves would
rather steal anything else except Toyotas because the locks are so good.”

“Yes, ma’am, I’m sure you did read that somewhere.”

“Well you don’t have to say it that way.”

“What way was that, ma’am?”

“The way you said it. Just because you can’t get it open, you don’t have to get snippy with me.”

“I wasn’t bein’ snippy with you, ma’am.”

“All I said was I read somewhere that car thieves don’t generally try to steal Toyotas, that’s all, because the locks—”

“And I was agreein’ with you, ma’am, I wasn’t bein’ snippy. Don’t know how you got that idea,” Canoza said, thinking if you
had any brains, geezer bitch, you’d be drivin’ a Chevy or a Pontiac, and when you came out of your cage every day and you
put your head up your ass where you usually kept it and locked your keys in your car you wouldn’t have to call us ’cause you
were too fuckin’ cheap to join Triple-A so this would be their problem instead of mine.…

“I don’t understand why it’s taking you so long. You do this all the time, I’d think by now you’d be an expert at it.”

Canoza had to take a moment after the pain started behind his right eye and snaked up behind his brow and into the right side
of his head. He reminded himself about the first half of the oath he took, what was it, twenty-four years ago? Yes. Twenty-four
years and six months. Exactly one week from today. And in six more months from that I won’t have to try to make polite conversation
with people who’re too cheap to get another set of keys to carry around on their person for occasions such as this when they
have an acute attack of Asian fucking brain fever where they can remember to lock the door of their fucking Jap car but they
can’t remember to remove the keys from the ignition before they lock the fucking door.

Easy, Robert, easy, easy, ’cause if you don’t ease up you’re gonna slip and say something wonderful, something that might
become part of your legend. And you don’t want that. Your legend, while impressive, is what’s gonna get you voted into the
Fuckups Hall of Fame. So be careful what you actually let outta your mouth. And remember: you were the one raised your right
hand and swore an oath to serve, nobody held a gun to your head, nobody was holdin’ anybody you loved for ransom. You did
that all on your own, completely and totally voluntary, don’t try to say you didn’t just ’cause this lady oughta be strangled.
Slowly. With razor wire.

“No, ma’am, I am not an expert at this, I mean we really don’t go to classes on this, you know? I mean all I know about it
I sorta picked up on my own. Just like these Slim Jims here.”

“Just like what?”

“Slim Jims.” Canoza nodded and looked down at what he was holding in both hands and jiggling around to try to catch the nub
of the lever that would pop the lock. This was Slim Jim number six in his bag of fifteen, which he’d acquired over the years
from various retired cops, bodymen, and car boosters.

“I thought that was some kind of dried-up sausage you men eat with your beer. Never could understand why they were called
that. I see them in the checkout line at the Phar-Mor. My husband’s brother used to eat them all the time. His breath was
just awful. And you know what he died of? Stomach cancer. And his doctor told his wife it was probably caused by all the preservatives
they put in those things. And the smoke too. You know, that smoke, that causes histamines. In the meat. Those are terrible
for you. Grilling ought to be outlawed. Why do they call them that?”

Histamines? In the Slim Jims? So why didn’t he just take a Benadryl after he ate ’em? Don’t say it, Robert. Don’t fucking
say it, man. But histamines in the Slim Jims? What the fuck, Jesus Christ, save me, Father, for I must’ve fucking sinned big-time.
Please shut this fucking woman up, I swear, you shut her up I’ll fly to Rome, I’ll walk from the airport to St. Peter’s on
my knees, without fucking kneepads I’ll do it, I promise, just please shut her the fuck up.

ldquo;You didn’t tell me why they named those things after a sausage. Aren’t you going to tell me? I mean as long as I’m here,
I might as well try to learn something. If that’s possible.”

“I didn’t say they named these after a sausage. You said that.”

“I did not.”

“You said you thought Slim Jims was the name of a sausage—”

“I never said that. I said I
thought
that’s what it was. I was asking you why you called that thing that. That thing you can’t get my door open with. A whatever.
Slim Jim.”

“I don’t know why they call ’em that, ma’am, okay? Been callin’ ’em that as long as I been tryin’ to learn how to use ’em,
okay? They could call ’em elephant for all I care—”

“Oh now you are getting snippy. Obviously, you think I’m stupid. Or senile. Well I’m not! I’m not senile
or
stupid.”

“No, ma’am, I don’t think nothin’ of the kind. And I’m not bein’ snippy here, okay? Just frustrated, that’s all, just … this
is very tedious stuff, you gotta catch this little hickey down there and you gotta do it with the right tool ’cause with the
wrong one it keeps slippin’ off, and don’t ask me why, okay, please? I already went through six of these things here, see?
And now I’m gonna put this one away and I’m gonna try number seven here. See that? See, this is Slim Jim number seven slidin’
down the window here. And I’m hopin’ this one does the trick.” Please, God, make this one do the fucking trick.

“Well you can try to pretend you’re not being snippy with me, young man, but I know when people are snippy. I may be old,
but I’m not stupid. I’m not senile, and I don’t have Alzheimer’s either. So you can stop thinking all that stuff, I know what
you’re thinking.”

“No, ma’am, I promise you, you do not.”

“Do not what?”

“Know what I’m thinking. I promise you, you don’t.” What I’m thinkin’ is I’d like to stick number seven down your throat and
rip your tongue out, that’s what I’m thinkin’.

“There! Ha! Got it!” Canoza leaned his head back and stuck out his tongue at the door as he opened it with a flourish and
a little bow. Then he looked at his watch. It had taken him only twenty-one minutes. Last fucking Toyota took him twenty-eight.
Yes! A personal best. Canoza takes the gold for popping the lock on a Toyota in a personal-best time of twenty-one minutes,
give or take a coupla seconds. Canoza is wavin’ to the crowd as he takes his victory lap, yes.…

He turned to the woman and bowed once again, deeply from the waist. “Don’t have to thank me, ma’am, no no, don’t even mention
it. ’Cause see? I took an oath to serve and protect, and this is the service part here, what I just did for you.”

“What’s your badge number?” she said coldly.

“Huh? What do you want that for?”

“Why do you think? I’m going to report you, that’s what for. You forget, young man, if you ever knew, I pay your salary. Me
and people like me. People living on fixed incomes. Which people like you working for the government wouldn’t know anything
about. All you know how to do is spend our taxes. And then you get snippy with us. I don’t have to take that. And I’m not
going to take that. I know where City Hall is. And I remember the chief’s name too. It’s Nowicki.”

“Well, ma’am, you’re very welcome. Right. That’s just the cherry on top of my hot-fudge sundae. But here’s what, ma’am, okay?
Next time you lock your keys in your car? And you call us? We’ll have to respond because that’s our job. But I promise you
we won’t be in any hurry. ’Cause in order to report me you’ll have to give the chief your name and address, ’cause he doesn’t
respond to anonymous complaints. He’s good that way. And after I got your car open for you here? So you didn’t have to pay
a locksmith? You know what they charge, huh? Call one. Ask him. You’ll find out how much money I saved you here today. And
go ’head, tell the chief on me, that’s okay. But just remember, he’s gonna ask me for my side of it, alright?”

She started to cry, and to whimper. “All I have is my school pension … my Social Security … both of them together don’t add
up to seven hundred and sixty dollars a month … I wasn’t able to work long … I had to quit teaching to take care of my mother-in-law
… my husband wouldn’t put her in a nursing home … wouldn’t even discuss it! But then what did he do? He died first. And what
did he do, the stupid son of a … I’ll tell you what he did. He forgot to sign me up for his survivor benefits … and she lived
ten more years, his mother … and you can talk all you want about how you took an oath to serve, but I never took any oath
to wait on her hand and foot for nine years before the county took her in … nine years! So don’t you talk to me about how
you took any oath, you big bully … get snippy with me, must make you feel real big, doesn’t it, huh? Pick on an old lady.”

“Aw, lady, c’mon, don’t cry, please?” Canoza sucked in his breath and threw his head back and then dropped it on his chest
and sighed and said, “Hey, I didn’t mean none of that, c’mon. Here, take my hanky, take it, c’mon, don’t cry, okay? What I
said, huh? I was just blowin’ smoke, huffin’ and puffin’ there, that’s all, I shouldn’t’ve done that, I was wrong. Listen,
you lock your keys in again? Huh? We’ll come right away, we have to, that’s our job. Don’t cry, okay, please?”

“That’s right,” she said, sniffling. “You shouldn’t have said that. But I don’t want your hanky. I have Kleenex in the car.
I don’t need you at all anymore, you … you big boob!”

Oh now I’m a big boob, huh? Swell. “Okay, okay. Then here, let me help you get in—”

“I said I don’t need your help anymore.” She crept close to him and peered intently at his shield and started to whisper his
number to herself.

“Okay, okay, you don’t want me to help, I won’t help. Sorry, okay? Really didn’t mean to make you cry—”

“Oh yes you did. I was a teacher. I know a bully when I see one. It was a long time ago, but bullies don’t change.”

“Aw Jeez, see there? I’m not a bully, ma’am, okay? I’m sure I said some things I shouldn’t’ve said, but I’m no bully, ask
anybody in the department. I never had one complaint against me for excessive force. Sometimes I don’t have a lotta patience
maybe, I’ll admit that, but … ah crap, I’m real sorry you feel that way.”

“Oh stop saying you’re sorry, you don’t mean it,” she said very loudly. “I can tell by your eyes you don’t. You just wish
I’d go away. That’s what everybody wishes. You’ll find out. You get old, people just want you to go away. It’ll happen to
you too. Well I’m old alright, but I’m not stupid. I memorized your badge number.”

He bit his lip and thought, well then go already, fuck you still here for? You’re drawin’ a fuckin’ crowd here. Maybe I should
let you use my PA. Give you a hundred fucking watts of Street Thunder, you could tell the whole fucking world you think I’m
a bully. Fucking great. People that drive Jap cars deserve every shitty thing happens to ’em. Fuckers.

“Have a good rest of the day, ma’am,” Canoza said, giving her a half-wave, half-salute, then collecting his roll-up bag of
Slim Jims, and taking them back to his MU before she could say anything else. Or before he did.

In the MU, he switched on the radio, said, “Thirty-three here. I’m 10-24 on that lady’s keys.”

“Roger that, thirty-three,” Vic Stramsky said.

“Hey, Vic, 10-91.”

In a moment, Stramsky came back on Channel 3, the one that couldn’t be picked up on any citizen’s police scanner.

“What’s up, Robert?”

“No more fucking Toyotas, Vic. I want thirty days off from Toyotas. That’s the third one I caught already this year, and it’s
still April. No more, you hear? I don’t get what the fuck it is with old ladies and their fucking Jap cars, no shit, but I’m
done with ’em, you hear?”

“Oh-oh, you pissed another one off, huh? Nowicki’ s gonna love that. You tell this one your right shield number, or’d you
lie again?”

“I did not lie.”

“Still stickin’ with that, huh? How you were only off by one digit? I gotta tell ya, Boo, I never saw Nowicki laugh that hard
in all the time I’ve known him.”

“Oh what, you don’t make mistakes, huh? Somebody asks you for your Social Security or something, you never stutter or stumble
around? Always get it right? The first time, every time? Bullshit.”

“Hey, Booboo, it’s only three digits. And you only been wearin’ it for what now, twenty-five years? Huh?”

“Twenty-four six next week. Which is neither here nor there.”

“That’s right, it ain’t. Only two reasons for givin’ a citizen a wrong shield number, Boo, and the first one is you’re so
stupid you shouldn’t be a cop. I have to tell you what the second one is?”

“Stop changin’ the subject, which is no more Toyotas for me, I mean it, Vic. Next one goes to whoever ain’t named Canoza.
I won’t respond, I’m not kiddin’ around, that lady took my balls out, she put ’em on the blacktop, and then she jumped up
and down on ’em with her pointy little shoes.”

“Oou you made her cry, didn’t ya?”

Canoza didn’t respond.

“Ohhhh, you bad boy you, you made her cry. I’m tellin’ you, she files a complaint? Chief calls you in, you better be wearin’
your vest is all I know.”

“Huh? How’d you know about that?”

“God, Robert, how do you think? Listen, I’m givin’ you fair warnin’, man. Nowicki’s really pissed about you not wearin’ it.
You come in again without it, he’s gonna make you sit, two weeks no pay, I’m tellin’ ya. Which also means somebody else is
gonna have to pick up your slack, and you know how you love it when you have to suck it up for somebody else, right?”

Canoza said nothing,

“I know you’re still there, Robert. Tellin’ you, man, this was Nowicki’s project. He waded through paper shit up to his elbows
to get that grant. And then he had to get council off their ass to come up with their end. And then he got you guys the best
possible deal for one of the best ones made—and you won’t wear it? Not a good move, Robert, especially not now since you’re
makin’ these old ladies cry. What’s with you, what’d you say to this one?”

BOOK: Saving Room for Dessert
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