Open Season by Archer Mayor Read Free Book Online

any.”
    He pushed his lips out in a pout. “I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. I said I’d leave May first, I’ll leave May first.”
    I wasn’t going to argue with that. It was damned near the only thing he had left.
    “When are you going to call it quits?” he asked, his eyes still on the screen.
    “I still have almost ten years to go before full benefits.”
    “You don’t really need them, do you?”
    I wasn’t sure where he was headed. “It wouldn’t hurt. Seems a small price to pay after all this time. I might as well do it right and get what’s coming, even if it is a mouse fart.”
    He didn’t say anything for a couple of minutes. His total concentration seemed focused on whether Pepsi or Coke would win the taste test. “You want to make captain.”
    It wasn’t an accusation, nor was it a question. It just floated there, and given my druthers, I might have let it drift away. Instead, I gave it some serious thought for the first time. Another ad passed and the weather girl appeared. She’d changed her hair—made her look like a poodle. “I don’t know. Maybe. You don’t get out much; I’d miss that. I don’t want to end up playing footsie with the selectmen and the chief, and figuring out everyone’s schedule. I hate that stuff.”
    “It has its compensations… I can’t think of them, but they’re there. They told me so.” He got up and fixed himself another drink. “There’s something to be said for going as high as you can go. It feels pretty good. And you can get out if you don’t like it.”
    “Well, hell, I might as well shoot for chief then.”
    Frank chuckled and settled back on the couch. The report was more snow tomorrow. I’d never aired my ambitions before, probably because they weren’t much to talk about—the Brattleboro Police Department was hardly overloaded with roads to the top. But with Frank’s impending departure, that would change. I was next in line, the docs all said I had a body ten years younger than my age—despite the penchant for Velveeta and pickle sandwiches—and I was in no trouble with the powers that be. I wouldn’t have admitted it to anyone, but the thought of new responsibilities was very attractive.
    Frank’s voice cut in on my musings, in more ways than one. “How about coming down to Florida with Martha and me? We might could set up a business or something.”
    That caught me by surprise. In the past, during the bad times we’d shared, we’d both thought of leaving the force and doing something else. But that had been pure escapism, a safe way to let off steam. This was different. Despite the fact that his eyes were still glued to the tube, he was making a serious proposal—or at least sending up a trial balloon—and that put me in a jam. Not only was I still happy doing what I was doing, I also knew in my gut I couldn’t work with Frank in any other circumstance. Time, age, and self-abuse were catching up to him, widening the nine-year gap between us and making it a chasm. In many ways, he had evolved from a near brother to a near father, at least in the way he had aged. Of all the things I wanted least to do in my life, watching Frank Murphy disintegrate in retirement was the most repellent.
    That pissed me off. He had helped me out when I was on the ropes, both after Korea and California and after Ellen’s death. The least I could do was keep him company for a few years in Florida. But I wasn’t going to do it, even to put a new wind in his sails. The irony of our relationship was that he had taught me to stand on my own two feet—to look to myself before seeking the guidance of others. It was that education that was making me turn my back now.
    “Why Florida?”
    “Martha. It turns out that our entire married life, she’s hated the winters here.”
    “But she was born in Vermont.”
    He shrugged. “What can I say? She has the heart of a beach bunny. Going to live in Florida after I retire is the eleventh of her Ten