(If this is your first visit to the site, please click back to They Had the Right to Remain Silent (1), where this story takes off.  Speaking of taking off, I missed a post yesterday, resting on my…drawing board.  The picture of our protagonists should be wrapping up very soon, and I’ll be literally back to the aforementioned board after this post.  If you’re up to speed with the tale, shall we continue?)
They Had the Right to Remain Silent
Richard S. Jachimecki
Chapter ( x )
     DETECTIVE MASON BECKER DRUMMED HIS FINGERS on the steering wheel watching his partner, Terrance Marshall, come out of the diner with two coffees. The cups practically disappeared in his hands.
     “Careful,” Terrance warned, “real hot.”
     “Thanks T,” Becker groaned, “I need this.”
     Terrance awkwardly adjusted his six- nine, 285- pound frame into the bucket seat.
     “Mase, we can’t use your car today,” Terrance reminded. “A sapphire blue GT 500, with white stripes running from front- to- back on top, just doesn’t work for stakeouts. We gotta blend,” he said, raising his eyebrows on the last word.
     “I know,” Becker answered, “but you have to love her in a chase.”
     Becker looked over at his partner’s deadpan stare, the joke lost. “OK,” Becker sighed, “we’ll sign out a plain- wrapper.”
     Traffic was steady on the way to the 17th Precinct station house, mid- Manhattan. Terrance pulled the quarter- folded newspaper from his coat side pocket along with his pen, and started mumbling letters. “h- e- r- t- i- f- g.”
     “What?” asked Becker, leaning over toward the passenger side.
     “The Jumble, Mase,” Terrance replied, not looking up. “Didn’t get to finish it this morning. Somebody showed up early in a big hurry to get going.” He murmured, “f i g h…FIGHTER…OK, one more.”
     “Let me see,” Becker interrupted.
     “Keep your eyes on the road,” Terrance warned.
     Becker shifted his glance occasionally.
     “It’s LONGSHOREMAN,” he whispered.
     Terrance looked up.
     “Part of the fun of the game is to actually do it yourself, Mase,” he said, low and slow. “Besides,” came his retort, “that isn’t the right…oh, wait, yeah that’s it…OK, I’m done,” Terrance said,, and tossed the paper to the floor as they pulled into the precinct garage.
     “Don’t forget that when you get out,” Becker said.
     “Don’t worry,” chuckled Terrance, “I’ve got to figure out the phrase at the end. You won’t have to detail your baby tonight.”



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