The police chief’s face puffed out with red-purple storm clouds, the sight of which in the past had sent many of the men under his command to the locker rooms for a change of trousers.
“Now, just a goddamned minute!” he exploded. “We’ve got the lowest crime rate of any …”
The storm blew over as quickly as it had appeared, leaving only a ruddy hue in its wake, and even that slowly faded as the police chief hung his head and stared at the files on his desk.
Phule waited patiently.
When Goetz raised his head again, his eyes shone darkly under heavy, suspicion-creased brows.
“You nearly had me going there, General,” he said through clenched teeth. “Any particular reason you want to pull my chain so hard?”
“I just thought you should hear yourself, Chief.” The Legionnaire shrugged. “By your own words, my troops haven’t been able to go where they want or do what they want in the past. Since they have the same rights as any citizen to enjoy what the settlement has to offer, and their money is certainly welcome anywhere I know of in the settlement, I fail to see where my ‘evening the odds’ is anything I should apologize for or correct … And it’s ‘Captain,’ not ‘General.’ “
The police chief’s lips pressed together in a tight grin.
“Sorry,” he said, without a hint of remorse in his voice. “I never did pay much mind to rank among you soldier boys. Fact is, I pretty much ignore ‘em altogether … unless they step out of line. If they do … well, then I treat ‘em like I would anyone else disturbing the peace or otherwise breaking the law. Is that fair enough for you?”