The three of us, me, Kanto, and Len got off work at eight o’clock that Friday night. We were used up and antsy for a beer after the sickly sweet punch we'd just downed. With light traffic, we all arrived at The Rock House within minutes of each other and found parking spots. We headed for the bar.

Lois slid our beers across before we could ask. “Booth should open up in a few minutes, boys.”

Rob Kanto said he’d pay for the first round. He threw a ten spot on the bar. I stared at the bill. It had an outline of a bird, an owl, in blue ink drawn on one end. It was the one I’d tossed in the pot for Lieutenant Hellman’s gift, which we’d delegated Kanto to buy. Ah, he probably put a twenty in the pot and took the ten in change. What the hell was I thinking, that Kanto would steal from his buddies?

To celebrate his transfer to Internal Affairs, we’d pitched a party for Lieutenant Hellman at six o’clock, just before he finished his last day at the precinct. Sergeant Brown had ordered cake and ice cream. The stripper Kanto hired did a wild bump-and-grind routine to loud rock music and bounced surgically-enhanced body parts in Hellman’s face. She grabbed his hand and brought it to the concealed front zipper of her low-cut red sequined gown. Her hips gyrated and the gown slithered down around her stiletto heels. In her tiny red lace panties and pasties, she dragged a feathery pink fan down Hellman’s uniform, then kissed him hard on the mouth as he squirmed. When she finished her routine and left, Kanto presented him with the chrome motorcycle luggage rack from the squad.

“Hey, Ringer. How’d you like my cousin? She’s something else, right?” Kanto yelled as we headed to the locker room after the party wound down.

“Huh? The stripper was your cousin?”

“She’s my cousin, but not a regular stripper. She offered to do it for kicks.” Kanto opened his locker and threw his uniform belt in. “I told her to be sure her costume was bright red. Think Hellman liked it?”

“As much as he likes anything. You know him.” I strapped my shoulder holster on and buttoned my shirt.

“Phony s.o.b.” Kanto muttered, so low I barely heard him.

"Huh?" I'd heard Hellman called many things, but not a phony. He always said exactly what he thought. Our precinct had the cleanest record in town, but he found fault with every bust, interview, and report we did and implied we'd never do any better. Some of the guys said that made him the perfect IAD horses's ass.

Kanto didn't answer and before I could ask him again, my brother, Len, came in. "Wait up while I change and we'll get a beer."

By the time we'd finished our first beers, a booth emptied and we took it. Several other uniforms joined us and we traded bull shit, half-watching the ball game on the set behind the bar. About midnight I cut out. Len followed me. "Got Mom and Dad's anniversary present?"

"Oh, hell."

"Why didn't you get Frankie to help?"

"I'll go to Bigold tomorrow morning. What'd you get 'em?"

"Uh uh. Get your own present. You've known 'em longer than me." He jumped in his Camaro. I slapped the roof as he shoved it into gear and roared off down the street.

I was still standing at the curb when the Camaro stopped, sat still for a minute, then reversed back toward me as fast as it had left.

I leaned down to his open window. "Where's a cop when you need one? I oughta run you in."

"I better go with you tomorrow. You'll buy Mom size 12 house slippers and we'll eat beans for a week. What time?"

. . . . My alarm blared at 9 AM. Len and I wandered around Bigold looking at watches, anniversary cards, and camping gear.

We were still in the camping department debating whether I should give Dad another fishing rod when I spotted Kanto across an aisle. He looked around, kind of furtive, but the rack of fishing rods between us blocked his view. He appeared to be looking at a display above his head, but I saw his right hand snag a jumbo pack of batteries from the shelf in front of him. I hoped to God no security camera was on him.

I'd heard rumors around the station that Kanto's wife, Kay, was becoming high-maintenance. But batteries? I turned to Len. There was a sick look in his eyes so I knew he'd seen it, too.

Kanto headed toward the front of the store. Len and I followed at a slower pace. We trailed behind him as he walked toward the exit. I was hoping against hope he'd detour by a cashier and pay for the batteries. But he went on through the automatic doors.

I picked up a pastry from a display and weighed it in my hand. We both scanned the area, debating the merits of Long Johns or cinnamon rolls. I didn't see anyone who looked like a security guard or undercover shopper following Kanto. So he'd lucked out. If you could call it that. What was wrong with the jerk, jeopardizing his job, risking jail, for a pack of batteries?

A kid bumped the fishing rod I'd not realized I still held in my hand. I turned back and snatched a watch off the first display I saw, then found the shortest cashier line.

Len was waiting outside slumped against his car. I threw the rod and watch package in my Bronco next to the Camaro and faced him. "There's more. Do you want to hear it?"

"What the shit do you mean, more?"

I hated to do it. He and Kanto had been buddies since high school. Even after Kay, Len's girl, decided she liked Kanto better. The only time I'd ever seen my brother drunk was after he'd stood up as best man at their wedding. I'd never cared a lot for Kanto, and less after that, but Len did so I'd held my peace. Till now. "I'm fairly sure he took some of the money we collected for the Lieutenant's gift."

"I heard the talk about the cheap present. Talk, that's all it is." Maybe he was trying to convince himself.

"No. You know that ten dollar bill I showed you, with the owl drawn in ink on it? I put it in the pot for the party. Kanto paid for our beer with that same bill."

"There could be a dozen bills like that. Whoever likes owls could draw them on a bunch of bills."

"The stripper was his cousin. He said she did it for kicks. He probably gave her a bottle of cheap wine. Sarge always pays for the cake and ice cream."

Len shook his head, he seemed blown away by it. I couldn't blame him. Nobody wants a friend branded a thief. But then we'd just watched Kanto shoplift the batteries.

We stood in silence for a few minutes. I took a deep breath. "I'll talk to him. Maybe he'll straighten up, once he knows somebody's onto him."

"No. He'll listen to me. We've been friends a long time."

"Both of us?"

"No. He might think we're ganging up on him. I'll do it now. He said something about Kay visiting her sister."

"Okay." I sat in the Bronco and watched my kid brother drive off. I didn't envy what he was about to do. I napped most of the afternoon and then got called in for the graveyard shift.

Next morning I pulled into our double driveway and parked next to where Len's Camaro usually sat. It wasn't there. Maybe he'd been called in last night, too.

Dad looked up from the grill. He was cooking his special Sunday breakfast, bacon, sausage, and eggs, pancakes and grits with his specially ground coffee. "Len with you?"

"Haven't seen him since yesterday morning. Was he called in?"

Dad laid down his spatula. "He never came home yesterday. I figured he got called for evening shift."

I forced down a cold premonition. "His poker game probably ran long and he just crashed there." I didn't believe it. Len always called home so Mom wouldn't worry if he was late.

"I'm gonna take a quick shower."

Taking the stairs two at a time, I hauled out my cell phone. I didn't want to use one of the two house lines, Dad would see a button on the kitchen phone light up.

I dialed Kanto's number. It rang six, seven times, before he picked up, sounding half asleep. "Yeah. Kanto."

"It's Mitch. Trying to track down my kid brother. Have you seen him?"

"Not since Friday night at the bar." He growled.

"Didn't see him last night? Play poker?"

"I didn' see Len last night. I didn' play poker with Len last night. I was on a binge an' I'm tryin' to sleep it off." He slammed the phone in my ear.

I called the precinct. "Nineteenth. Brown."

"Sarge. Sorry to bother you, but was Len called in to work last night?"

"Taking on your Mom's job, Mitch? Just a minute. No, not called in. Not due in until 2 o'clock tomorrow."

"Thanks, Sarge. Hey, if he calls in for any reason, tell him to call home, will you?"

Now I was scared. Len had left Bigold to go talk to Kanto about the shoplifting. Kanto said he didn't see him. He hadn't been called in to work.

The front doorbell rang and a minute later I heard Mom's wail. "Not Len. No. No."

I went to the head of the stairs. Dad was holding Mom as she sobbed in his arms. Captain Tower and the department chaplain stood near the open front door, faces calm. But Captain Tower's mouth was a slit above his chin. He looked up at me.

I reached the bottom of the stairs, which seemed two or three times longer than they had going up. "What?"

Captain Tower's voice was hard. "Len's body was found at the foot of the Bluffs upriver. Multiple injuries and broken bones. Not shot. Gun still in the holster. His car was at the top."

"Somebody he knew."

"Maybe. We're checking everything. You're off duty. Take care of your parents. No arguments. The department will handle it." He stared into my eyes. I stared back. "Understood?"

"Understood." I could tell he didn't believe me. Hell, I didn't believe myself.