Brazil was tired of waiting for Weed to show up. Brazil couldn’t bear to admit that West had been right. Worse, he had to tell the radio room he needed a ride. The thought was awful.

All cops on the air and people with scanners would know Brazil was alone on foot in Hollywood Cemetery. He could hear the jokes. He could imagine the sniggers. The pretty boy’s been reassigned to the dead beat.

“Unit 11,” Brazil got on the air.

“Go ahead, 11,” Patty Passman quickly came back.

“At Hollywood Cemetery. Need a unit to 10-25 me here.”

“Ten-4, 11, 0749 hours. 562.”

“Unit 562,” Rhoad came back.

Brazil recognized Talk in a Box’s unit number and cringed. Oh please don’t ask him to pick me up.

“Five-six-two. Need you to 10-25 a party at Hollywood Cemetery ASAP.” Passman’s voice was strained as it came back.

Passman had fabricated calls in the past to divert Rhoad from her illegally parked car, and he wasn’t about to fall for it this time.

“What’s your 10-20?” Passman asked Rhoad over the air.

“Unit 562. Broad and Fourteenth,” he answered.

“Ten-4, 562, 0750 hours.”

“Unit 562,” he got back to her.

“Five-six-two.”

“Unit 562,” he said. “Got to make one stop first. Can 10-30 11 with an estimated 10-26 of 0830 hours.”

“Eleven,” Brazil shoved his way on the air. “Radio, can you send another unit? Need to get out of here long before then.”

Passman was in a panic as she glanced up at the clock. She frantically stuffed the other half of a chocolate eclair into her mouth.

“Eleven, that’s 10-10,” she informed Brazil. “All other units are 10-6.”

“Can you 10-9 that?”

“All other units are 10-6,” she repeated.

It was a lie. Everyone on the air knew radio traffic had been light so far, with no indication whatsoever that all other units, or even half of them, were tied up.

“Ten-12.” She told Brazil to stand by.

“Eleven.” Brazil’s voice was getting irritated. “Ten-5 562 and ask his 10-20.”

“Five-six-two.” Rhoad didn’t wait for the message to be relayed, since he clearly heard what unit 11 asked and was capable of being direct. “Ten-20’s Broad and Ninth.”

“Well, can you 10-25 me now or not?”

“Ten-10. Got to make a stop first.”

“Radio, can you please get me another ride?” Brazil asked again.

“Ten-10, 11. Five-six-two’s en route.”

“Five-six-two. No I’m not. I got to make a stop first.”

Passman finished the eclair.

“I need someone to 10-25 me ASAP,” Brazil answered back.

“Five-six-two. Can’t do it, 11.”

Mikes began clicking as other cops on the air voiced their amusement and encouraged Rhoad and Brazil to keep it up.

“Units 562 and 11,” Passman snapped into her microphone. “Ten-3.”

Passman’s order to stop transmitting brought about complete silence, but only temporarily.

“Five-six-two.” Rhoad could not stop. He was addicted. “Could you 10-9 that?” he said.

“Ten-3.” Passman ordered him for the last time, in the secret language of cops, to shut up.