Free This Is a Bust by Ed Lin Page A

or the newspaper, or better yet — pay his workers, already. I crumpled up the message and tossed it. Three points.
    I wondered if Willie Gee had known Wah personally, or if she had been just another worker bee for his hive. Her asking for a raise surely would have drawn some attention. I didn’t want to think about it too much, though, because I couldn’t do anything to help.
    English was being a prick and obviously wasn’t going to let me get a fingernail in on the case. And I didn’t want to charge in, because my old partner was on the case. So I
    decided to do something that was within my power.
    I swung out onto Bowery intent on finding five or six parkers or movers. There isn’t any quota, but there is a “suggested minimum” of 30 parking tickets or moving violations per month. Even Stevie Wonder could find 30 cars parked wrong in a month. Even a marginalized cop like me could do it.
    Some people get passive-aggressive about it. I’ve seen cops duck into storefronts when they see someone parking in front of a hydrant. They fill out the whole ticket and wait for the guy to leave before planting the ticket under the windshield wiper. I always wondered why the hell people like that wanted to be cops in the first place if they were so scared of confrontation.
    I hadn’t gone five feet before I found my first parker: a beaten white van that read on the side, “Jin Fook Flushing Queens,” spelled out with pieces of duct tape. The van was parked halfway in a bus stop zone.
    The next one was a little tougher. A middle-aged woman came running out of a market with a baby in her arms and gave me some grief as I was slipping a ticket under the windshield of a black Duster.
    â€œHey, what’s that for? What did I do?” she cried.
    â€œSee that?” I asked, pointing to the ‘No Standing Anytime’ sign.
    â€œBut I left my emergency lights on!” She shook the baby a little. It had a rice candy stuck to the back of its right hand.
    â€œThat doesn’t matter. You can’t leave your car in this zone.”
    â€œHow am I supposed to know what ‘standing’ is supposed
    to mean?”
    â€œYou took a driving test, didn’t you?” After no response, I asked again, “Didn’t you?”
    â€œThe sign’s not even in Chinese, how am I supposed to read it?”
    â€œPlease,” I said, tipping my hat and walking away.
    I gave more tickets to a Plymouth Fury, a Bug, and a Gremlin at expired meters. I walked by Jade Palace and saw that the protest had gained more steam. I didn’t look too long. I gave a nod to the two cops by the barricades. They were busy but they nodded back.
    I felt a hand pull my arm rudely, and I instinctively shot my elbow back. It was Willie Gee.
    â€œYou don’t return my calls,” he said through gritted teeth as he rubbed his stomach where I had jabbed him.
    â€œBecause I don’t work for you,” I said.
    â€œI want to know why the police department sends two lo fan officers to protect the protesters. They don’t even send the Chinese officer. How are they supposed to know what to do?”
    â€œEveryone who comes out of the academy knows what to do. Including how to handle a protest. A legal protest. Something that’s protected under free speech in this country.”
    â€œIt’s not free speech — it’s free lies,” hissed Willie.
    â€œSay Willie, did you know this woman named Wah?”
    â€œSure, she died. I knew her. I even gave her a raise. I already told that darkie.”
    â€œYou watch it, Willie.”
    â€œWhat? What? She was old, she died! What did I do wrong?”
    I turned to go.
    â€œWait,” he said, reaching for me and then withdrawing his hand suddenly. “Come up and talk to me in my office.”
    â€œYou got problems, you talk to these officers right here,” I said. A tractor trailer on Canal trumpeted like an