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He tried to catch his breath. He became aware that blood was dripping from his chin onto the white sweatshirt of the young, tall, white male.
He heard the wail of a siren, and then the wail of a second siren.
Matt felt the small of his own back for his handcuffs.
I left the fucking things in the goddamn car!
“You gonna let me up now?” the young, tall, white male asked.
“Shut your fucking mouth!”
The sound of one of the sirens died, and then the other. After what seemed like two and a half years, Matt saw the beam of a sweeping flashlight.
“Over here!” he tried to shout, which told him he had not fully recovered his breath.
The flashlight beam came closer.
“My God, what happened to you?” Detective Lassiter asked.
“You got cuffs?”
Detective Lassiter sort of squatted on the ground, put her small flashlight in her mouth, opened her purse, and took from it a set of handcuffs.
She moved to place the handcuffs on the wrist Matt was holding. The young, tall, white male, realizing what was happening, resisted. Before he was adequately restrained again, Detective Lassiter’s flashlight had been knocked from her mouth and had fallen to the ground, in such a position that it shone directly on the junction of her legs, which, covered with pale blue panties, was now, due to the displacement of her skirt, fully exposed.
He heard the sound of a third siren dying.
“Thanks,” Sergeant Payne said.
“Happy to be of help,” Detective Lassiter said.
“Put your foot on his neck,” Sergeant Payne ordered.
Detective Lassiter complied, and Sergeant Payne got to his feet.
“You’re bleeding,” Detective Lassiter said.
“My, aren’t we observant?” Matt said, and took a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped at his face.
Matt started to pull the young, tall, white man to his feet.
“Keeping in mind that there is nothing I would rather do right now than rub your face in the garbage, get up and behave,” Matt said.
"Not quite ‘make my day,’ ” Olivia said, “But not bad, Sergeant.”
I’ll be a sonofabitch, she’s laughing at me!
Another flashlight beam appeared, and a moment later, another. One was held by a uniform, the other by a Highway Patrol sergeant. The latter flickered across Matt’s face.
“Payne! What the hell happened to you?”
“What the hell does it look like?” Matt snapped. He pointed to the uniform. “Put this gentleman in a car,” he ordered. “He has not been Mirandized.”
“What did he do?” the Highway sergeant said as he stepped closer to Matt as if he thought he was going to need some help.
Then, when his back was to the uniform and he could not be seen, he put something into Matt’s hand.
Matt saw what it was. Three round pellets of a very strong brand of English mints.
