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Detective Jack Bailey knew that he was a bit uptight and never knew when to keep his mouth shut (like correcting the chief’s grammar in front of the mayor). He could admit those facts to himself. He had other qualities to admire: diligence, thoroughness, toughness, a respect for the rules. Above all else, he was not reckless.
That’s where his old school partner came in. Detective Dan Stark was nothing but trouble. He charged in without thinking of consequences and drank like a fish even when on duty. He would do anything to crack a case. Rules were made to be broken. He trusted his own instincts more than any type of science. DNA and computers were black magic as far as he was concerned.
Stark lived in the police stone age, yet Bailey couldn’t say that he was always wrong. He didn’t know how it happened but he’d developed a grudging respect for the dinosaur. He could see that there was more to Stark than bluster and hot air although there was a lot of it.
However, Bailey couldn’t think of any positive things to say about Stark when he sat in Stark’s 1979 Pontiac Trans Am. He held on for dear life to the sounds of tires screeching and the smell of burning rubber. He clenched his teeth to avoid screaming like a teenage girl.
They cut in front of a soccer mom in a blue SUV. Bailey waved apologetically and mouthed an apology.
She yelled something her children probably shouldn’t have heard and flipped them off.
Bailey hunched down in his seat. He stared at his lap, silently cursing Stark. Why couldn’t he have a partner from this century?
Stark suddenly elbowed Bailey. “Look.”
Bailey’s head shot up. “What?”
Stark nodded to the three blondes staring at them from a cherry red mustang racing right along with them. He arched his eyebrows at the driver and she grinned back. She blew a kiss at him.
Stark laughed. “I’m telling ya. This thing’s a chick magnet.”
“Yeah,” Bailey grumbled. He noticed the girl in the back seat making eyes at him. He blushed and ignored her. “We’re on duty, Dan, and they shouldn’t be driving this fast. We shouldn’t be driving this fast.”
“You’re no fun, Jack.”
“I’m not paid to be fun.”
Stark rolled his eyes. “You’re lucky. You’d starve.”
The car came to a screeching halt in a quiet residential neighborhood. Stark grinned and rubbed his hands over the steering wheel. “God, I love this car! Engine purrs like a kitten. I don’t know why they stopped making them like this.”
“Maybe because they pollute the air and we can hardly afford to put gas in it,” Bailey muttered sourly.
Stark smirked at Bailey over the rims of his aviator sunglasses. “But it’s cool, isn’t it?”
Bailey sighed heavily and nodded. “Yes,” he admitted. “It’s cool.”
“I know. Hey, did I ever tell you about the time--”
“Yes,” Bailey snapped. He noticed his white knuckle grip on the car. He consciously relaxed his fingers. He opened his door and jumped out. “We’re here about a stolen water heater. We didn’t have to break every traffic law to get here in ten minutes.”
Stark climbed out the window and almost fell in the street. He grabbed the car and stood upright. He pointed at Bailey. “There are no small crimes, only small cops.”
“What took you so long? I’ve been waiting for a half hour,” a short, fat woman yelled from the front porch. “I’m lucky I wasn’t shot.”
Bailey kept his back to her and winced. “You’re not shot, are you?” he complained under his breath. “It’s a water heater, not a life and death situation.”
Stark chuckled and walked around to the other side of the car. He slapped Bailey on the back. “Classic rule of police work. You can never drive slow enough to please the citizens who don’t need a cop and you can never drive fast enough to please the ones who do.”