"Ahhhh." A satisfied smile spread across Bennie's face as the warm burn of Irish whiskey traveled down his throat. "Good stuff, Pop."

"That it is!" Rudy clinked his glass against his son's glass. "To us and good Irish malt."

The bar's business was steady but not overcrowded. Bennie recognized most of the patrons, the usuals like his dad and himself. Tonight, two tables of five were playing Twenty-Five, the national card game of the Irish, and another booth had a backgammon board. Two strangers occupied the booth nearest to Bennie and his dad. They seem engrossed in a game of poker. Chips and dollar bills littered the tabletop amidst empty glasses. 

"Now, you were sayin' somethin' 'bout somethin' big? Would it be a job?" Rudy's boisterous voice carried over the loud rumble of voices, drawing attention to the two men. 

"Pop, lower your voice," Bennie hissed. "This is strictly hush-hush." He glanced around the bar. "Nobody can know about it but you and me; do you understand?" He touched his pointer finger to his lips and whispered, "It concerns one of Lance's clients, and yes, it's big."  

Rudy nodded but followed it with a gruff chuckle. "So, you're playin' a little cloak and dagger with your pop, huh? I get it!"

"Pop, this is for real. Our lives are about to change forever, but I need to leave town for a few days. Somewhere in the Smokies, I think."

"Sure, sure! You be takin' one of your bimbos on a field trip?" Rudy laughed and slapped his son on the back. "Some private research, huh?"

"No, Pop." Frustrated, Bennie snapped, "I need you to lower your voice, please."

"You two doing okay over here, or can I get you something?" Bits of the conversation had reached Sandy's ears, and her curiosity spiked. Sandy's eyes latched onto Bennie's face as her smile dissipated. "Oh, before I forget, Cassie was in here asking about you. You and that girl hooking up?" Sandy leaned on the bar, closer to Bennie, her finger drawing circles on the bar top. "She's not your type if you ask me."

Bennie understood Sandy would love nothing more than to get her hooks in him, but he preferred to keep his personal life separate from his father's hangouts. She was easy to look at, but he didn't care to have his father or anyone else involved in what happened behind closed doors. He knew people, including his father, shared too much information, given enough whiskey.  

But Bennie could play the game as well as the next bloke. His eyes twinkled with a touch of blarney, and he smiled directly into Sandy's eyes. "Now, darling, no need to worry about Cassie and me. You're right. She's not my type." He lifted his drink, but his eyes never left Sandy's gaze.  

Satisfied and a tad uncomfortable by his stare, Sandy turned and hurried away at the sound of her name coming from the other end of the bar. Bennie felt relieved.  

"So, what's this big news, son? Did one of your pal's clients discover the pot of gold?" Rudy laughed at his joke and pressed against his son's arm. His whiskey breath was overpowering, and Bennie tilted his head away, Clearing the air with his hand. 

"No need to get insultin', boy. Your dime-store cologne don't cover up the fact ya been drinkin' all day, either."

Common sense told Bennie to keep quiet, but the diamonds burned a hole in his pocket. The temptation was more than he could resist. He shoved his hand into his jean pocket and pulled out the diamonds. Then, keeping his hand below the bar's edge, he leaned closer and opened his hand, exposing the diamonds in his palm. 

"Ya be messin' with me, boy. Those be diamonds?" blurted from Rudy's mouth. His eyes flared with excitement. "Don't look like no dime store stuff. Tell me da baubles are real." Overly stimulated, Rudy beat his fists against the bar top several times, rocking his stumpy body back and forth. "Jesus, Mary and Joseph, we're rich! Do you hear me, son? We're rich."

 Bennie shoved his forbidden treasure into his pocket. His eyes burned holes into his dad. "Shh-h-h-h! Have you lost your mind?" Not waiting for a response, he slid off the stool. "I gotta go, Pop. Keep your trap shut!" He finished off his whiskey. "Forget I was here, okay?"

He cursed himself as he moved through the bar, imagining everyone's prying eyes staring at him. Then, outside, he pulled a hoodie over his head, looking up and down the street. A car drove by, and then another. Bennie's nerves were on edge, and he imagined every car filled with men anxious to get their hands on the diamonds.  

A figure turned the corner and walked in his direction. His arrival on the block motivated Bennie to head in the opposite direction, toward home. As he imagined heavy footsteps behind him, Bennie's walk turned into a sprint, running until he gasped for air. 

He brushed against the rose bushes, catching his pant leg on the thorny stems. Stumbling, Bennie pulled his leg free and collapsed on the front lawn, a field of more weeds than grass.  

His eyes darted around the yard, waiting for someone to jump out of the bushes or, worse yet, shoot him. The usual night noises sounded ominous to his ears. He scrambled to his feet and raced up the broken step. Terrified, his mind played tricks as Lance's face taunted him from the door's glass pane. "We're dead men, Cuz."

"Get out of my head, Lance." He stumbled into the house, slamming the door and locking it. He body-slammed the tattered couch, falling into a crumbled heap.  

Cradling the sofa pillow, his last thought before slipping into a drunken stupor was about the diamonds and Rudy, muttering, "Pops, just once, keep your mouth shut."

********************** 

Across town at Police Headquarters, Hank was winding down his first day. Alone, admiring the view, his thoughts wandered to Emmy Lansbury. He'd caught himself thinking about her several times today. He'd caught a glimpse of her throughout the day, but not nearly as he'd hoped. After he met with the Chief, she dropped him off at the Human Relations Department, where he completed form after form.  

He enjoyed the building tour, meeting and greeting everyone responsible for keeping the department running efficiently. He massaged his bicep. It ached from all the handshakes. 

As the day ended, HR escorted him to a spacious corner office with a skyline view. In Gulf Shores, his desk was one of many pried into small cubicles in an overpopulated room. The view was astounding, as was the stack of folders on his desk. 

"No time like the present." Hank walked around the desk, claiming his new chair. He closed his eyes, leaning his head against the back of the chair. He smiled. "I didn't have anything like this in Gulf Shores."

After appreciating his office furnishings, Hank had buried himself in the files for hours. Needing a break, he stretched his legs and stood, admiring the city lights. 

"How'd your first day go?" Hank spun around to face the charming smile of Emmy Lansbury. "Didn't expect to see you here so late."

Returning her smile, Hank answered, "Been a lot to take in, so I was unwinding. There's a lot to absorb. Your arrival at my office door has helped a lot. To what do I own the pleasure?"

"My office is next to yours." Emmy pointed to her left. "I've got a stack of files to read, so I thought I'd head home with them." Emmy's feet were cemented in the doorway. "Till I saw you enjoying the view."

"The night skyline is quite gorgeous. I can see the harbor lights between the buildings, and it makes me homesick for Audrey."

"Oh, you left a girl behind." Emmy felt a twang of jealousy and felt foolish. She silently scolded herself; after all, she'd just met the man. 

"Girl? No, Audrey is my boat, named after my mother. I love to sail, and now she's anchored in Gulf Shores, and I am here, miles and miles away."

"Your — your boat." Emmy cleared her throat, flustered, adding, "I was wondering if you'd like to grab a late dinner. I know a quiet Italian place nearby, and we could discuss the case unless you're too exhausted. Or I know other restaurants if you don't care for Italian food." Emmy wanted to kick herself, stuttering and babbling like a love-sick schoolgirl. "It's okay if you'd prefer to head home. I know it's been a long day."

"No, dinner sounds outstanding, and Italian is my favorite. I grabbed a sandwich from the vending machine at lunch, and unfortunately, it ended up in the trash."

Emmy stuck her finger down her throat and faked a gag. "Never eat anything from the vending machine. Someone should have warned you. The sandwiches don't get changed out like they should, and they are stale. Found one with mold. Who knows how long it had been in there."

Hank laughed. "You make it sound so appetizing." He stood and grabbed his suit jacket from the coat rack. "My body cannot survive on coffee and a croissant, so I would love to join you for dinner. A plate of pasta sounds scrumptious. Do you know if cannoli are on the menu?"

"You and your sweets, mister." Emmy laughed and grabbed his arm. "Come on. Let's get out here before you starve to death."