Sofa of Truth: Mike Kellerman
Written by Saffron Bailey
I can't believe this fucking snow. I was in Wisconsin the other week, and there was a foot and a half
of snow. But that's Wisconsin and you have to expect snow there. Snow covers up the fact that
Wisconsin's one of the world's most boring places. There's nothing to do in Wisconsin other than ask
your out-of-town relatives where their wife is, even though they all know Annie and I've been splits
for a year.
That's the one good thing about moving over to homicide -- I don't have to see Annie so often. I keep
telling myself I'm over her, that I shouldn't love her at all because she betrayed me like she did, and I
can almost convince myself. Until I see her, at least.
Maybe it was better that in ended like it did, with a bang, rather than being dragged out like the
Buxtons upstairs. Maybe one day I'll convince myself of that, too, instead of mooning over her like the
loser that I am. Annie's over me. Fuck, she was over me three months before we got divorced, about
the same time she hooked up with her _other_ Don Juan.
Did I mention that snow makes me moody?
Bayliss is going to quit. He's gonna move to LA and be a security specialist. Bayliss locks himself out
of his own car every three weeks and he's gonna make a career out of keeping other people safe and
protected? Not unless he takes Frank with him. Which wouldn't be a bad idea.
I think I'd miss Bayliss if he left. Tim's a good guy, even if he's a little flaky. A lot flaky. Not just for
putting up with Frank -- and enjoying it -- but also for being so mixed up. He tries to be so
hard-boiled to please Pembleton, but he's got a gooey middle that he's never going to get rid of. Like
those Cadbury eggs. Timmy's armor's about a thick as tin foil, too.
I think I'd miss Bayliss mostly because he's the only one other than Meldrick that seems to accept me
as anything approaching an equal. Munch so proudly told me that I don't even register on his radar
screen. I'm just there to be abused, the rookie on the team who has to go through all the hazing shit.
I understand there's a certain amount of stuff I gotta go through as the new guy, both from the unit at
large and from Meldrick in particular. But if John-boy over there thinks I'm gonna put up with the crap
they load on Bayliss, let alone put up with it for as long as Timmy has, he's got another thing coming.
I'd like to think I'm respectful -- Mom and Dad made me suck enough Ivory soap to make 'ma'am'
and 'sir' permanent parts of my vocabulary -- but I'm not letting that 98-pound weakling take revenge
forty years after the fact for getting his lunch money took every day.
For a while, Meldrick was all right protecting me from the rest of the unit, at least he tried. Neither of
us are a match for Pembleton, who usually can't be bothered anyways. Bayliss is like a kid at the zoo
-- he only pokes and throws things when he knows the animals are securely locked up. Munch
doesn't care whether or not I understand his insults -- and most of the time I don't -- so it's the
sarcasm version of jacking off. Meldrick says that Munch'll be different when his partner gets back
from suspension and he's a lot more like Bayliss when Stan Bolander is around. That oughtta be
funny.
But things got a little hinky after the Rodzinski mess. I couldn't believe Gee and the Sarge stuck me
with that case. I'm trying so hard to justify getting switched into homicide, working my ass off just to fit
in, and they give me a case where we all know a cop did the shooting. So right after I finally earn my
partner's trust, I gotta go blow it by investigating his friend.
I have to confess, though, the thing that really pissed me off about bringing Jake Rodzinski in, even
more than getting looked at cross-eyed by all the other cops while I was doing it, was that his
"partner" rolled over on him in a heartbeat. Meldrick and I haven't been partners for all that long, but if
I found out he did something, I wouldn't be spilling my guts to the nearest detective. And I am sure
that Meldrick wouldn't do that to me. Even if he's not sure about me right now.
Hello! You hear that, Munchkin, or are you too busy listening to yourself talk? When was the last time
either of us got laid? Good old George is re-asserting his man-of-the-house status. I'd suggest to
Munch that the Missus is too smart to be impressed by this so-obvious move (fucking in earshot of
your competitors -- it's in the first chapter of How To Prove Your Masculinity, that historic epic every
boy tries to learn and master once his voice changes), but she's moaning too loud for him to hear me.
A knock on the door. Good, relief is here. Munch can go bend someone else's ear for a while. I need
a pizza, a beer, and a long night with someone who looks nothing like Annie and sounds everything
like Mrs. Buxton.