Beauty and the Billionaire
The policeman near the windows was running his hands along the top of my television. "Pretty nice set-up you have here. Play video games?"
"Online, multi-player," I said.
"What exactly do you do for a living, Mr. Redd?" the bald officer reappeared from the back of our coat closet.
"I'm a sponsored player for the game Dark Flag," I said.
"You're telling me you sit around all day playing video games and someone pays you for it?"
"Yes, sir. I have the pay stubs to prove it. Though from the looks of this search warrant, I don't have to show them to you," I said.
"You might want to ask your lawyer about that," he said with a mean smile.
"Why exactly do you think there are drugs here?" I asked.
All four police officers scoffed and continued their digging without another word. Another stereotype of the gaming world: I sat around high while I played or somehow funded my sitting around by selling drugs on the side.
I sat on one of the stools at the kitchen island as they delved deeper into their search. All of the books came off the shelves and the officer sneezed as he flipped through the dusty pages.
"Yeah, those are more for display than anything. I mean, I don't know what else to put on that many shelves," I said.
The policeman in the kitchen had light duty as there were only two pots and a cast iron skillet in the lower cupboards. The upper cabinets had a random collection of pint glasses, a few mismatched plates, and coffee mugs with ridiculous sayings printed on them.
"Looks like he's a gourmet," he said. The pantry was bare except for a bag of brown rice, a few loose power bars, and a box of popcorn. The refrigerator had a stack of lunchmeat packages, a loaf of bread, and two drawers of fresh vegetables. "What, no cheese puffs and rocket fuel soda?" he asked.
I shrugged. "I'm more of a stir fry guy. Better protein stops snacking."
He eyeballed my trim waistline and scowled. "Sure, buddy. There's an awful lot of take-out containers in the trash."
"My roommate," I said.
As if that was a cue, the officers divided up and headed by pairs into the two bedrooms. I waited for twenty minutes until they reappeared.
The bald one was on his cell phone calling in a K-9 unit. "Gotta be thorough. Don't want to waste tax-payer money," he said.
The officers then ignored me and talked about football until the K-9 unit arrived. A German Shepherd with intelligent brown eyes and an eager pace pulled its partner into my apartment. After the third zig-zagging trip around, it looked up at its partner with a lopsided expression of boredom.
He turned the dog towards the bedrooms and it dragged him down the short hallway. It was in and out of my roommate's room in five minutes. Four minutes into my room, there was a low woof. The officer reappeared with the prancing dog; a sport coat in his hand.
I recognized the sport coat as the one my roommate had lent me. It had been in contention for wearing to the memorial service until I decided to wear my suit. If something was found in the pockets of his coat, he'd catch hell at work and most likely get fired.
"Nothing in it, but Gertrude likes it for something. Marijuana most likely," the officer said.
"My roommate wore it to a club a few days ago," I said.
Even the dog gave me a disbelieving look. I sat back down on my stool – it was going to be a long evening.
#
"Convenient that your roommate lent you this coat we found in your room," the bald officer said.
I was glad when my phone rang. I looked down and saw Quinn's name. My stomach jumped more from her than from the suspicious looks the police gave me.
"One of your clients?" the second officer asked.
"The fading scent of pot on a sports coat that was worn to a dance club doesn't really prove intent to sell, does it?" I asked. "And since I'm not the average under-informed, sub-intelligent criminal I'm sure you're used to making you feel smart, this whole search is over." I opened the door to let them out.
The K-9 officer was pulled through the open door by his eager partner. Two of the others shrugged and went to follow him, but the bald policeman blocked the door.