The Staler

After a briefing at the sheriff's department headquarters, Lieutenant Harkins, and I rode to the Hell Hole with Roscoe in his surveillance van. From the outside, the van looked like a piece of junk. The paint was faded, there were splotches of primer all over it, and it sported at least three different styles of wheels. Inside, however, was another matter. The van, a former ambulance with a raised fiberglass roof, was an electronic marvel. The walls were lined with equipment that allowed Roscoe to perform all kinds of surveillance miracles. It was equipped for TV, audio, and had special long-range eavesdropping microphones hanging on racks on the wall. I had no idea what most of the stuff did, but Roscoe was a master at using it. On top of that, the van's engine had been souped up so it was almost as fast as some high-performance cars. He'd also tinkered with the suspension to make sure it could handle the additional power.

"I wish the department had the money to buy something like this," Harkins commented as we rolled down the street. "But we have enough trouble getting money in the budget to buy new cruisers every two years. Friggin' civilians have no idea what we're up against."

"It was like that back when I was on the job, too," I said. "I guess some things never change, do they?"

"Shit no," Harkins snorted. "They just get worse."

Roscoe wheeled the van into the dirt parking lot outside the Hell Hole and parked near some cars and pickups that looked even more decrepit than his van did. Then he joined Harkins and me in back and began flipping switches. A TV screen in the middle of the electronics panel lit up, and an image of the outside of the dilapidated building the Hell Hole occupied filled it.

"Where's the camera?" I asked.

"Up there," Roscoe said, pointing to two compartments on the van's ceiling. "There are two cameras on each side. They shoot through the openings that used to hold the scene lights."

"Very clever," I said.

"Of course," Roscoe replied. "It was my idea."

I looked at Lieutenant Harkins and smiled. "He's so modest, isn't he?" I said.

"Yeah, right," Harkins retorted.

I could hear the distinctive sound of a Harley-Davidson "Hog" motorcycle approaching. "That Moose?" I asked.

"Should be," Roscoe said. "It's about time."

I watched the video screen and saw a huge, bearded man riding a motorcycle that looked like a toy under him roar into the parking lot and up to the sleazy club's front door. He dismounted and stood there, looking around. "Goin' in," I heard a rough voice say.

"Where's the wire?" I asked.

"It's built into the gold chain and medallion he's wearing," Roscoe said. "Best wire I ever saw. He's been searched but nobody's ever tumbled to it. He wears the medallion all the time, so it becomes part of the scenery, you know?"

"That your idea, too?" I asked.

Roscoe shook his head. "Actually, Moose came up with it," he said.

"Hey, Billy-boy, how're they hangin'?" we heard Moose say through the speakers in the van's console.

"Moose, my man, I was wonderin' if you'd show," a male voice I recognized replied.

"When I'm doin' business, I always show," Moose replied. "You ready to do business, or what? I ain't got time to fuck around. You deal or I'm gone."

"Hey, man, don't be so edgy," Billy replied. "Of course I'm ready. Fuck, man, you're actin' like I'm gonna set you up or somethin'."

"It's happened before," Moose replied, his voice menacing. "But nobody ever got a chance to do it to me a second time."

"I get the message, man," Billy said. "No problem. I need that piece. I can't wait to see the look on that asshole's face when I blow his fuckin' head off. Jill, too. I'm gonna fuck her first, then I'm gonna splatter her fuckin' brains all over the fuckin' gym. That'll show the bitch she can't mess with me."

"I don't fuckin' care what you're gonna do," Moose said. "And I ain't got time to fuck around here while you get your rocks off thinkin' about it. We gonna do business, or what?"

"Yeah, sure," Billy said. "You got the piece with you?"

"It's out in my saddle bags," Moose replied. "What about the stuff you're supposed to have for me?"

"It's out in my pickup," Billy said. "Come on."

The three of us in the van watched the video monitor and saw Billy and Moose emerge from the club. The started across the parking lot, headed in the direction of the van.

"Damn!" Roscoe said. "The little asshole's making it easy for us. The closer he gets, the better the tape's gonna be."

And, much to our surprise, Billy led Moose to the pickup truck parked next to the van.

"Jesus, look at that fucking van," Billy commented. "You ever see such a piece of crap?"

"Lots of room to play with pussy in a rig like that," Moose commented.

"I never thought about that," Billy said. "If I had one, I'd sure as hell want one that looks better than that one does."

"Jesus, asshole, are you trying to sell me a fuckin' van, or are we gonna do business?" Moose asked, looking around suspiciously.

"Calm down, big guy," Billy said. He opened the door of his pickup, pulled out a bulging knapsack, and handed it to Moose. "There you go. All the shit you asked for, plus I gave you a little bonus for delivering so quick."

"You got it all in here?" Moose asked.

"All the steroids you said you needed plus a little bonus. Five grams of coke," Billy replied, looking eager. "The 'roids are prime stuff, the real deal, straight from a doc down in Mexico. Oh, yeah, I tossed in a sample of some fine crystal meth I picked up and a brick of good hash, too, kind of a bonus for delivering the piece so quick."

"Billy-boy, you're all heart," Moose said, smiling. He clapped the smaller man on the shoulder and almost knocked him off his feet. "I ain't never had nobody give me a bonus before."

"Thanks, Moose," Billy said. "Let's go get the piece, now. I can't wait to feel it in my hands." A feral grin formed on his face.

"No problem, Billy-boy," Moose said. "Nice doin' business with ya." He turned and began walking back toward the Hell Hole.

"All units, move in now!" Lieutenant Harkins yelled into the portable radio in his hand.

Roscoe pulled his gun out of his shoulder holster, I took mine from the holster on my hip, and so did Harkins. Roscoe and I went out the side door of the van and Harkins went out the rear.

"On the ground, Billy-boy," Harkins said. "You're busted."

"What the fuck?" Billy said. He looked from Roscoe to me, then to Harkins. There was fear in his eyes. Roscoe, Harkins, and I had our guns pointed directly at him. We knew his gun wasn't loaded. Sirens were wailed and tires screamed as our backup, three police cars loaded with officers, approached.

"I said get on the fucking ground, Billy," Harkins said. He drew back his hand and knocked the smaller man off his feet.

Before Billy could move, Roscoe and I were on him, yanking his arms behind him, so Lieutenant Harkins could put cuffs on him, which he did. We finished cuffing Billy and turned him over to our backup who led him, swearing and screaming, to one of the police cars and stuffed in the back seat.

Moose reappeared, carrying the knapsack Billy had given him. "Let's see what the little asshole gave me," Moose said. We climbed into Roscoe's van and he walked over to one of the police cars, opened the knapsack, and spread the contents out on the desk along one wall.

"Damn!" Harkin exclaimed. "Look at all that shit!"

It took more than a little while to run the field tests to ensure that, in fact, Billy Devlin had tried to swap Moose cocaine, hashish, and methamphetamine for a gun. The steroids would have to be sent to the lab, but since they were in the boxes and sealed vials the factory had packaged them in, it was pretty clear they were what Billy said they were.

While the police were doing that, Billy continued to rant and rave in the police car, and even began banging his head against the wire cage at one point. I walked over and smiled at him. He finally recognized me and that only served to make him wilder. Finally, the officers hauled him out of the car, strapped his legs together, and fastened the leg irons to his handcuffs. Then they slid him in the cruiser's back seat on his belly.

"He's a prime asshole, isn't he?" one of the officers commented.

"That's putting it mildly," I said.

We took Billy and all the stuff down to police headquarters. Both Billy and the evidence were processed in. Billy made things worse for himself by struggling with the jail personnel. That resulted in the police adding a charge of assaulting an officer on top of everything else he was being charged with.

"You figure he'll make bail?" I asked Harkins.

"Not unless he's a helluva lot richer than I think he is," the lieutenant replied. "With all the shit he's being charged with, he'll be facing high bail." He laughed. "Beside, who the hell do you think likes him enough to want to bail him out?"

It was getting near eight, and even though Jill no longer needed my protection, she didn't know that and would be expecting me. "I have to get going," I said. "Thanks, lieutenant."

Harkins shook my hand. "I should be thanking you," he said. "If you hadn't asked Roscoe for information on that asshole, we'd still be watching him, getting more and more pissed."

I left the sheriff's department headquarters and drove to the health club, wondering how Jill would take the news that she was safe from Billy Devlin, and probably would be from now on.