Theres a bar on the corner of Kane and Finger.
Its called Finnigans.
You dont come into that bar unless youre a cop, were a cop or are related to a cop.
When you enter Finnigans, youll find the retired police lining the bar, sipping their beers, reminiscing about the old days with their partners, taking calls in the radio car. Youll see the rookie officers sit at their tables. They can be loud and boisterous or calm, silent and respectful to the men and women that inspired them to become police in the first place. Those cops with a few years under their belt walk between the bar and the tables, picking up wisdom on one side and dispensing it on the other.
In Finnigans, the officers whose lives were lost in the line of duty line the walls.
But what about the ex-coppers, the ones who left voluntarily or by force? In Finnigans theres a special table way in the back room. At any point of time, youll find a number of familiar faces, still buying or getting a round of drinks. These men are departmental legends, often living on in infamy.
Sitting at the table tonight are Jason Bard, Harvey Bullock, Sam Slam Bradley and Stan Kitch. Cards and chips are scattered in the centre of the round table. An opened whisky bottle with a stack of shooter glasses is set up beside it. The game being played is Texas Hold Em, Gotham rules.
The room smells of scotch, cheap cigars and sweat.
Ha! You mean to tell me, you never caught old man Withers at it? Bullock bellowed. He leaned forward, his flabby arms and hands raking in the chips. There was the stub of a cigar in his mouth. His hat sat loosely on his head, his hair was greasy. Every summer, hed be down by the harbour, up on tiptoes, Bullock mimicked the mans movements, checking out all the girls dressing rooms. He laughed.
Must have been before my time, Harv, Bard replied, dealing a new game. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up and hed loosened his tie. His cane was set against the side of his chair.
Slam Bradley went into a coughing fit as he picked up his cards. The cigarette nearly flew from his mouth. When hed stopped coughing, he took a satisfying drag from it. Didnt Withers croak a few years back?
Bullock nodded and tapped his fingers on the left of his chest. Heart gave out.
I heard he was checking out a girl, Stan Kitch added, and when she looked up, old man Withers recognised his granddaughter. Shock knocked him out straight.
Poor bastard. Bullock put out his cigar. Fold.
Just then, the door opened. The foursome turned to see a young man step into the room. When he spotted the four, his eyes widened. He was like a deer caught in headlights.
Oh, Im sorry, he stammered. I thought this was the bathroom.
He turned around to leave when Bullock called out to him. Hold it, rook.
From his seat, he grabbed a chair standing to the side and pulled it to the table.
Sit yer ass down.
The rookie police officer complied, his knees shaking.
Whats your name, kid?
Jake. Jake Collins.
You know who these guys are, Jake Collins? Bullock gestured to the others.
Uh, no, no, sir, the young man stuttered.
Bullock smiled. Well, let me introduce ya.
He pointed to Kitch, who was easily the best dressed of those present. Thats Stan Kitch, used to be one of the top lieutenants on the force. Traded it all in to become a defence attorney. Got hisself a nice job behind a desk.
Next up was Slam Bradley. The old geezer theres someone you will have heard of. Slam Bradley. Collins nodded. Yeah, thats what I thought. If he ever comes onto your crime scene, you best forget about it, kid. Slams smarter, quicker and meaner too. Youll be filling out forms for weeks.
The grinning fool you see there, Bullock pointed out Bard. They call him Jason Bard. Hes a wiseass, thinks he got it all figured out. Took a bullet to the leg, but dont let the cane fool you. Hes good on his feet when he needs to be.
Bullock was silent then and he looked at Collins. The rookie looked back.
And you know who I am?
The man nodded quickly.
Bullock grabbed the whisky bottle and a glass. Good, get a drink in ya and stick around.
Well tell ya some war stories.