The Thoughtful Detective

Chapter 5 - The Mother of Dragons

Year: 2016 

(8 Years Later)

🎵 "For he's a jolly good fellow. For he's a jolly good fellow. For he's a jolly good felllooowww..... which nobody can deny!" 🎵

Several officers cheered and applauded, as Wallace patted Matheson on his back.

"Tequilllaaaa!" Lopez yelled. He walked clumsily from the bar to our table with several shots in each hand. He set them down in front of Matheson, knocking over two of them in the process. He picked up one of the shots and held it above his head.

"I would like to make a toast," he declared. He looked around the room of officers to ensure that he was getting our undivided attention. "To Sergeant Matheson...the best fucking sarge in all of the Magic City!" 

The whole room cheered and howled wildly.

"Congratulations on your retirement, even though the entire precinct is depressed as fuck about it. Nobody could ever replace you. But shit, you deserve your retirement. Don't you dare forget about us!" Lopez exclaimed. He poured the shot of tequila into his mouth and slammed the glass down on the table. His body swayed slightly to the side. He lost his balance and stumbled into Weitzman.

Weitzman shook his head in frustration and tapped Castillo on the shoulder. He pointed to Lopez and gestured for Castillo to get up from his seat at the large table. Castillo nodded in acknowledgement and stood up. The two of them gently sat Lopez down on the chair.

I watched as my colleagues raised their beer glasses and tequila shots in the air, in honour of Sergeant Matheson's retirement. I picked up my empty glass from the table and walked over to the bar.

The bar area was empty, except for MacClery, who was sitting on the stool at the other end. He was scrolling through his phone and sipping on the last remnants of an orange liquid.

My eyes met the bartender's. She gave me a quick nod as she wiped her hands on a towel. She walked over to greet me. "What can I getcha?" she asked, with a friendly smile.

She had huge brown eyes and long, straight black hair that was tucked under a red tuque. She was wearing a black short-sleeved top; showcasing the colourful sleeves of patterned tattoos on both her arms.

I returned her smile. "Seagram's. Neat. But could you also bring over a Screwdriver for my friend MacClery, over there? You can add it to my tab, please."

She glanced over at MacClery and chuckled. "He's just drinking plain orange juice," she said with a shrug.

"Ah, I'm glad the kid is still being a kid," I said. "If you could merge his tab with mine, that would be great."

She gave me a thumbs up and walked over to her large selection of liquor bottles. She poured me a glass of Seagram's and placed the drink in front of me. "Thank you," I said. She gave me a quick nod before she walked over to a carton of orange juice.

"Dawson, I need to talk to you." I turned around to see Matheson standing behind me. I eyed him curiously, as he slid atop the barstool next to mine.

He looked at me intently with his dark eyes, as he took a sip of his drink. He winced and placed his glass on the bar.

"Look, I know you just finished training the new recruit, but I really need you to do something else for me, as well." He paused for a moment to gauge my reaction. I motioned for him to continue.

"We're getting a transfer from precinct 162. She's got four years on the job, and she's one hell of a fine cop, from what I hear. Sharp as a tack, and very hardworking. Stakeouts, OT, whatever we need. She also had more arrests last year than anybody at 162," he said.

"Why is she transferring to our precinct?" I asked.

Matheson sighed and rubbed his temples. "Where do I start? Well, for one, she's a hothead. She's brilliant at her job in many ways, but she has issues with half of the officers at her station. She always wants to work solo patrol, but as you know, 162 is a rough area. Most of their crew patrol in two-officer vehicles. It's necessary over there."

"We mainly cruise in two-officer vehicles as well," I pointed out.

"Yes...and that's why I need you," said Matheson.

I gave him a questioning look, and he responded by giving me a blank stare. It took me a moment to realize what he was requesting.

I groaned. "Seriously, Matheson? You're partnering me up with the most hated person at 162?"

"Yes, I am...you're the only one who might be able to handle her. You're smart, level-headed, and easy to work with. You'll balance each other out."

I sighed and took a sip of my drink. I obviously wasn't thrilled about the news, but I knew that Matheson was right. I was probably the most patient officer at our precinct. If anyone could handle this situation, it was probably me.

I glanced over at MacClery, who was talking to the bartender, and eating the maraschino cherry from his glass of orange juice.

"Such an innocent kid," I said to Matheson.

"He is..." Matheson agreed. "But he hasn't yet been faced with the realities of this job." He had a somber look in his eyes, as he watched MacClery laugh animatedly at something the bartender had said to him.

Matheson turned to face me again. He ran his fingers through his salt and pepper hair. His expression was serious. "There's one more thing, Dawson. I need you to listen carefully, okay? This is important."

"What is it?"

"From what I hear...your new partner...well, she's a ten. She was described to me as ridiculously drop-dead gorg—"

I frowned. "Come on, Matheson. You know me. I have never—"

Matheson interrupted. "I know, I know. There's a reason I'm choosing you. You're a standup guy, and I'm not concerned. But at the same time, I'm very fucking concerned."

"You're killing me with the paradoxes today. She's an amazing cop, who doesn't get along with anybody? You trust me to work with her, but yet, you don't trust me to work with her?"

"Look, I trust you. But you're both single and attractive. I know you have good intentions. But you know...these things happen. I'm telling you right now that you'd be asking for trouble if you start anything with her. I may be retiring but I don't want to hear about any scandals at this precinct. Ever."

"I'd just be happy if she doesn't rip my head off in the next few months."

"I'm serious, Dawson. Whatever you do...just don't have sex with her, okay?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'll try my best not to sleep with the angriest cop in Miami."

"Thank you," said Matheson.

"Well, I look forward to meeting the mother of dragons. What's her name, anyway?"

Matheson picked up his glass and took a sip of his drink. "Her name is Eva. Eva Vasquez," he replied.