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An older gentleolf clubs in a three-wheel cart across the parking lot stopped to watch

"How you doing?" I asked him

"He’s a police officer," he told rabbed Baued him across the asphalt to his car It was hard work in oppressive heat By the time I reached the police cruiser, the back of ainst the front tire and wiped sweat out of ently on both cheeks "Boyd Hey, Boyd Are you still with enuine fear in his voice I liked that

"What’s your call sign?"

"My what?"

"Your handle What’s your handle?"

"Bravo-three What do you--"

I leaned in and activated the microphone attached to the epaulet of his shirt

"Bravo-three," I said

"Bravo-three, go"

"Bravo-three requires a supervisor at the parking lot of the Greenhaven Golf Course Is Sergeant Moorhead available?"

"Bravo-three Boyd, you sound funny"

"Bravo-three Let’s pretend that we’re a professional police organization, shall we? Is Sergeant Moorhead available?"

"Bravo-three Yes, but--"

"Dispatch hi lot of the Greenhaven Golf Course iazed toward the private road that led to the golf course, half expecting to see Moorhead racing toward me

"You’re in trouble," Bauor in his words

"One of us is," I said

Sergeant Moorhead’s hand was resting on the butt of his gun when he slipped out of his cruiser I held upthat I was unarmed He moved closer