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

whenever you head home tonight. Any of them damned bums would just love to get their grubby mitts on it. The combination’s the same as my phone number: 9-1-1.”
    I rolled my eyes as I slid down into his chair, the seat still nice and warm. I kicked my feet up on his cooler, hoping he’d forget to load that into his truck bed. “I got your back, Curly. Be safe out there, and keep a close eye on the produce aisle. There’s enough fruits and nuts running around this city already.”
    Curly ambled over to his truck, yanked the door open and somehow managed to pull his thick frame up into the cab. “You got it, Loosey Goosey! The Market’s all yours for the night, my man. Try to hold things down for me, huh?”
    I gave him a nod of assurance as I leaned back further, closing my eyes in relaxation as I listened to that big V-8 engine firing up. The engine purred with a mean growl that echoed in the air long after Curly had sped down the garage ramp, racing his way towards the exit. After a long, blissful moment of solitude, I kicked my feet off the cooler and fished around in the icy water in search of another Coke. There were half a dozen cans of diet mixed in among the ice cubes, but I chose to leave those for Curly to enjoy the next day. After all, that guy needed to lose weight way more than I did. After another long, refreshing swig of syrupy goodness, I reached for my radio and clicked it on. “714 to Control” I called in, trying to keep my voice smooth and mellow, doing my best to start my shift off right by getting in good with the dispatcher.
    “714?” she answered in the form of a question. Her voice was thick, black, and husky, and it was a safe bet that her body probably looked the same way. “Go ahead sir?”
    “Check me 08 the shift, please. I’ll be in the Market ‘till zero-two-hundred.”
    There was a long pause before she finally answered up again. “714, I copy. Be advised, you’re on the wrong channel. Go to channel one, please.”
    My face went hot and I could almost hear all those patrol jerks across the river in James Island and West Ashley having a real good laugh at my expense. Without bothering to answer her I flicked the radio knob over to channel one, repeated my message and then cranked the volume down low so I wouldn’t have to hear the response. Yeah, so much for starting the shift off right, I thought .
    Boredom quickly set in after that. Even though I made a sincere effort to glance through the rumpled News and Courier that Curly had left behind, it only took a few minutes for all those tiny lines of newsprint to start blurring together. My head began to throb and the only remedy I could think of was to kick the beach chair all the way back into a full recline. My body was aching and crying out for a rest, so I obligingly eased my eyelids down in an attempt to satisfy it.

2.
    “Control to 714!”
    My eyes popped open instantly, a result of the swift reflexes I’d developed from years of law enforcement training and experience. Dusk was already settling in over the city and down below, the streetlights were coming on one by one. I stood up, walked over to the edge of the garage and gave my head a quick shake to clear the cobwebs. Beneath me, pedestrians were strolling along Church Street in small groups, all of them sharply dressed and heading for the bars along North Market Street.
    My radio squealed with a single high-pitched wail, our emergency alert tone. The noise was so irritating that it left me with no choice but to give the speaker my full and undivided attention. “Control to 714! Calling 714, Officer Larsen!”
    I knew the dispatchers must have been trying to raise me for some time since that alert tone is generally reserved for actual emergencies like a violent crime in progress. Hands fumbling, I rushed to shake my walkie-talkie free from my duty belt. Once I found it and raised it to my lips, I took one last second to compose myself before mashing the talk button.