“I’ll answer the questions, Marco.” I put my hand on his arm. He was so angry with Chief Ass Burn I thought we were going to have a fight. Marco was trained in the military. He was in top shape. He would whip Chief Ass Burn in two seconds, but it was Marco who would go to jail for years if he assaulted a police officer. I squeezed his arm, pressing myself closer to get his attention. “Please, Marco.”

Finally, Marco stepped back about six inches.

I answered all of the chief’s questions, including telling him the alphabet frontwards and backwards, counting by ten to two hundred, naming fifty states in a song when he asked me to name five, and I walked in a straight line in my cat’s mouse blankie. Chief Ass Burn was more and more disgruntled that I was passing the tests and he couldn’t take me back to the police station to be alone with him.

Marco stood right by me and fumed. At one point he said, “Why don’t you ask her to speak in French to ascertain she isn’t drunk?” and “Maybe if you had her count to a million you could get a better idea as to her inebriation. See if she can remember all the words to ‘Phantom.’”

Two cars pulled over. Three islanders crossed the street to see what was going on.

The chief finally gave me a Breathalyzer test. He tried to stand close to me, but I said, “I am not comfortable with you standing so close. I can smell the onions on your breath and your body odor.”

“Step back,” Marco said, glaring at Chief Ass Burn.

The three people, all longtime friends, crowded around Chief Ass Burn, Marco, and me.

I blew into the Breathalyzer. The chief was clearly disappointed.

“What did I blow?”

“I’m not required to tell you.”

“Actually,” Elizabeth Bellagiio said, who was a judge, “you are. What did she blow?”

“The test shows no alcohol,” Chief Ass Burn muttered reluctantly, with disappointment and embarrassment.

“Then she’s not drunk and she’s allowed to leave,” Marco said. He turned me toward my truck.

“That’s correct,” the judge said. “Unless there is another problem, Chief?”

“Yes. She was swaying in her lane, so I’m issuing her a ticket.”

“I was not swaying in my lane.” I had been upset, that was true. But my eyes had never left the road.

Marco said, “I’m reporting you again for false charges and for stalking Evie.”

It was Marco and me and the judge and the two other friends, all in line facing the chief, glaring.

“Go ahead, Marco. Be my guest.” He smirked at me. “If you want your ticket reduced, come and see me, Evie. You might get lucky.”