Free The Replacements by David Putnam

“Hey, you want him? You’re the one who actually ID’d him. We didn’t. He’s really your arrest.”
    â€œReally? You boys’ll give him to me, just like that?”
    I sat in the backseat as it all played out, stunned at Mack’s arrogance and bravado.
Mack, you son of a bitch. You better not overplay your silly little game
.
    â€œI’ve been up all night on a surveillance. Just stopped in for some coffee to keep me awake on the ride home,” said Mack.
    The tall cop turned to his partner. “I don’t want to give up a federal fugitive arrest. We don’t get them very often.”
    The short one replied, loud enough only for his partner and not Mack to hear. “We get off in an hour, and I’m taking my wife and kids and my boat to Silverwood Lake. I’m not going all the way into LA. Fifty miles there and fifty back, that’s a hundred miles. No way. And on top of that, who knows how long we’ll be there booking this mope in?” He left his open door and came around to where his partner stood talking to Mack, their words too low to hear.
    Mack shook his head, playing it to the hilt. He spoke louder than the others, loud enough for me to hear. “But I just came from LA, I don’t want to drive all the way back there.” He leaned over to the side and smiled at me. The two blue suits talked to him some more. The short one, talking fast using his hands, took some money from his uniform shirt pocket and handed it to Mack.
    â€œOkay, I’ll run him in, but you guys are going to owe me,” said Mack.
    The two cops came over, opened the back door. I slid out. They took off their cuffs and put on the ones Mack handed them. They escorted me over to Mack’s Thunderbird and slid me into the front seat. Mack stood by the open front door, sipping his coffee, and whispered, “You can thank me later for saving your ass.”
    â€œDon’t let them look in my valise.”
    Mack threw down the coffee. “Shit.” He walked fast over to the cop car. “Hey, what about his bag?”
    The short cop had the valise out of the car on the hood, trying to jimmy the latch with a double-edged knife. Mack made it to his side and took hold of the handle. “I got this.”
    â€œWait a minute,” the short cop said. “What if there’s a couple of kilos of coke in there? This is our bust, and if there’s dope we can book him in our jail.”
    Mack didn’t let go of the handle and stared down at the shorter man. “This isn’t
Let’s Make a Deal
. You only get to see what’s behind door number one if you take the body with it. And you said you don’t want to make the trip. So make your choice.”
    The short cop hesitated, then shoved the bag toward Mack. “See you guys,” said Mack. He walked back to the car unrushed and got in. The two cops stood and watched. They had to be wondering if they’d made a mistake. Mack started up, dropped the handcuff keys in my lap, put it in drive, and pulled out onto the street.
    I didn’t like the feel of steel on my wrists, not one bit, and fumbled to get them off. Mack took my last Sno Ball sitting onthe dash and bit into the soft cake. He laughed with his mouth open. “Man, Bruno, you should have seen the look on your face when I told those two blue-bellies you had a murder warrant. I thought I’d pee my—”
    I reached over and shoved the Sno Ball in his face. He wasn’t ready for the move. The car swerved and his head jerked around to look at me, flecks of coconut clung to his cheeks. I laughed. “Now that’s funny.”
    He didn’t miss a beat. He laughed louder and playfully backhanded my shoulder.
    I said, “Leon Byron Johnson—LBJ—you really thought hard on that one.”
    â€œHey, it was an impromptu thing.” Now he laughed so hard that we swerved inside the lane.
    The mirth died a