Free Mixed Messages (A Malone Mystery) by Patricia Gligor Page A

that maybe I’d better lay off the sauce . I started seeing a counselor who, by the way, is available to any cop, and I kicked it. I haven’t had a drink since and, you know what, I don’t even want one.”
    That night changed Bernie’s life. He got to thinking about the Korean soldiers he’d shot in the war and the fact that, as a police officer, some day, he might have to kill in the line of duty. Those were unavoidable; he had protected and served his country and, now, he was protecting and serving the citizens of his city. However, if someone were shot or, God forbid, died because of his negligence, he didn’t think he could deal with that. He decided that the drinking had to stop. He’d been thankful every day of his life since then.
    Thanks to the decision to quit drinking, he’d had a long and distinguished career, first as a patrol officer and, several years later, he received a well deserved promotion to detective. The department sent him to Washington, DC to study fingerprinting and he worked in the fingerprint division until he retired from the force. Shortly after he began collecting his pension, the department created a civilian position in fingerprinting and he’d spent many years doing the exact same job and being paid handsomely for it. Now, he collected two pensions.
    He’d never married. He wasn’t a saint; he’d been with other women through the years but no one had ever touched his heart the way his one true love had many, many years ago . Sadly, that hadn’t worked out. Anyway, h e ’d always considered himself married to the job.
    He had lived in the same second floor apartment for the past thirty some years simply because, whenever he considered looking for a first floor apartment somewhere, which would be a lot easier for him with his bad leg, he looked around at all the stuff he’d accumulated over the years and the idea of moving seemed overwhelming. Besides, he liked being able to see what was going on up and down the street and, from a security standpoint, the second floor was much safer , he told himself.
    This place could use a little sprucing up though, he decided. He looked around the room at the drab walls and discolored venetian blinds . A new coat of paint on the walls might do wonders and maybe some new blinds, he thought. I’m sure these are original to the building. This carpet could stand to be replaced too or, at the least, professional ly cleaned.
    Yeah, but good luck trying to get the owner to spend a dime; the man was as cheap as they came. It took an act of Congress to get him to fix something that was broken in the apartment and, even then, he always tried to do the work himself. “ After all, ” he made a point of saying every time, “ it cost s money to bring in a professional. ” You’d think he’d take a little more pride in his building , Bernie thought, but that seems to be the way of the world today : do as little as you can and make as much money as you can. Oh well, I’ve lived with it this long; I guess I can live with it a little longer.
    He glanced down at the scrap of paper with Ann’s phone number written on it. I’ll just have to keep trying to get in touch with her, he thought. It would be so good to see them all again. I hope David has already realized that he has a drinking problem and has gotten help . He looked out the window and watched the wind whipping through the treetops . David has such a nice family; I’d hate to see him throw it all away. I hope he realizes how fortunate he is. I t’s not much fun, being all alone.
    He didn’t want to interfere in something that was really none of his business but, h e decided, if he ever saw signs that David was still in trouble, he’d have a little man to man talk with him. He still had his Big Book, the “Bible” from Alcoholics Anonymous, which he’d picked up years ago at his first AA meeting. It might come in handy, he thought. Maybe, like his sergeant, he could help to make a