On The Beat (Goosey Larsen Book 3) Read Online Free

beach chair and roared with laughter. The move caused his beer gut to shake in a violent fashion, stretching the leather stitches on his duty belt dangerously close to their breaking point.
    My cheeks warmed as the blood rushed to my face. It was true, I might have accidentally slept through the previous year’s annual inspection ceremony, but I swear it wasn’t my fault! I actually had set my alarm clock before going to bed the night before, but the electricity had cut off sometime during the night before on account of some little misunderstanding over an unpaid bill. And wouldn’t you know it, Chief Greene didn’t even bother listening to my side of the story! I think that guy must get some kind of private kick out of holding those dress inspections, when all the cops have to get gussied up in our Sunday best just to stand in formation for three straight hours. The Chief isn’t normally what you’d call a kind man, and he’s definitely not accustomed to being stood up. What’s more, and I’ll be the first to admit this, my oversleeping excuse was really a little weak since the awards presentation had been scheduled for four o’clock in the afternoon. Really, I had no one but myself to blame for sticking my neck out, but who could’ve known that my first arrest in five years would bring down a serial arsonist? Yeah, all things considered I’d probably gotten off pretty easy with only a transfer. Surprisingly enough, the Chief hadn’t even tried to take away my one stripe over this latest snafu. I think he must’ve known the devastating effect that a pay cut would’ve had and decided against hitting me with a fourth demotion. Good thing, too, because I think that would have been a CPD record. It was common knowledge to all us cops that the Chief was going senile in his old age, but it seemed as if he might be getting a little soft too.
    Curly noticed the sour look on my face, and for some reason he took it as a signal to keep jawing away. “Well, just use this assignment as a life lesson, kid: Hard work never gets you nowhere. You went out there and busted your ass to take down a nutjob who’d been torching houses for how long? Five, six years? And look where you ended up.” He swept his fat black arm out in front of him, drawing my eye towards all the low rooftops laid out before us. “Sitting on top of a fuckin’ parking garage and waiting for it to get dark, all so’s you can chase bums around in circles and run them poor boys from one streetcorner to the next. You know, the only reason we’re even posted down here at all is to make sure the city’s precious tourists don’t get harassed.” He spat with disgust, launching a bubbly loogie out over the edge of the parking deck. “Oh, Lawd! God forbid something happens to one o’ dem bee-yoo-ti-full tourists!”
    I gave him another smile, a genuine one this time. “We’re on top of the world, Curly. Top of the world! What else could a man ask for?”
    His belly shook again as he laughed at our shared predicament. Finally, after he’d caught his breath, Curly let out a long sigh and began the process of twisting and churning his way up out of the folding chair. His movements were slow in the making, and it was obviously a significant effort for him to bring his body back upright. Curly’s never been much of a fitness nut but in all fairness, the dude had only been carrying about seventy or eighty extra pounds before he picked up that case of the gout. Ever since his sick leave ran out, it almost seemed like his metabolism had simply ground to a halt. Without the benefit of any kind of diet or exercise regimen, Curly’s body had taken on the consistency of soggy toilet paper. “That’s the spirit, kid” he said. “Me, I’m outta here. I got the evening shift at the Teeter in thirty minutes.” Curly pointed towards a combination bike lock that was coiled around the stairwell railing. “And hey, don’t forget to lock up my beach chair