"Do it, Simon," Manny said sharply. "There's another nightmare we don't need." Thoughts of lawsuits, pain and suffering, trauma, PTSD.... The horrifying list was endless, and the cash register would keep ringing until they were all broke.
"You got it, Chief." He called for his secretary.
Manny glanced at his watch. "Good. I'm expected at the opera. I hate the f**king opera. Dr. Lister, I'm damn glad you didn't become a lawyer." They shook hands and he left.
Simon's secretary typed up the agreement and notarized the DA's signature, having Tabitha sign as a witness. Copies were made and sent to the Chief of Police, the Police Commissioner and the judge.
"Thank you, Simon," Tabitha said.
"You're welcome. I'm glad you're not a lawyer, too. Otherwise, I have a feeling you'd be giving me a run."
Anton was asleep when Tabitha arrived. Rather than waking him, she left the letter from the DA on the bedside table, along with a note. Giving him a kiss on the lips, she left and drove home, pleased she had done some good.
After leaving the hospital, Hale and Eilene stopped for coffee and pie at the same diner where they'd had breakfast. Jill was, once again, their server. When she saw them, she scurried over to the table. Turning her back to Hale, she folded her hands, grinning at Eilene.
"On a scale of one to ten, how was it?"
Eilene cut her eyes at Hale. "Twelve and a half."
Jill squealed and hopped excitedly. "Yay!" she said quietly, dancing a little. "Yay! I knew he would be good."
"She was, too," Hale said. "Twelve, huh?"
"And a half," Jill corrected, continuing to dance. She took their orders, dancing to the kitchen.
"Thank you." He kissed Eilene's hand.
"Giving credit where it's due. But you've set a high bar, Newton."
"Not a problem, Stafford." He paused, suddenly serious. "Is this going to be a problem at work?"
"Why would it be? Work relationships are a problem if they fall apart. Do you see that being an issue?"
"No. You?"
"I wouldn't have let it get this far, if I was worried. You're all kinds of tasty, but I think our retard friend said best. Ain't no pussy worth killin' over."
"Maybe not, but there is some worth living for." He toasted her with his coffee.
"Thank you."
"My pleasure—entirely."
"No, not entirely. I got a whole lotta pleasure, too."
"Eat fast," Hale said.
"Take it to go."
They ended up buying a whole pie. When no one was looking, Jill put a can of whipped cream in the bag.
Eilene smirked. "We may not have a meal, but we've got dessert."
They drove to her place, making it as far as the kitchen before stopping. The counter presented itself and they had a great time sharing the whipped cream.
They were about to start another round, when both their phones rang. There was a moment of mix up when they almost answered the wrong phone, but they got it sorted after a scramble.
"Stafford."
"Newton."
Both listened carefully, wondering if the other was getting the same news.
"Uh-huh," they both said. "No kidding?"
"Thank you, sir," Eilene concluded her call.
"Thanks for calling, Sarge," Hale said.
"All charges dropped on Donald!" she cheered.
"Criminal charges leveled on Oats, for wrongful arrest and police brutality!"
"At least no one can turn it into a race thing," Eilene said happily. "Since they're both white."
Hale didn't say anything more, merely captured her nipple in his mouth, his long, calloused fingers caressed her inside.
"We're sticky. We need a shower. I want dessert." Raising an eyebrow, he stroked her, licking his lips.
Anton woke when he heard the food carts rattling down the hall. Seeing the note and envelope on his table, he opened them. The note was from Tabitha, getting right to the point in her cramped, scribbling handwriting.
Anton chuckled. "You can tell she's a doctor."
The letter made him gasp. Tears came to his eyes. He was sobbing when the aid opened the door. Her welcoming smile faded.
©2021 Dellani Oakes
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