The Bed You Make
Chapter 11
~ Images and Perceptions ~
When undercover cop Craig Munson stepped into the squad room freshly bathed and wearing clean clothes, the other members of the Port Charles police force applauded good naturedly. Most were amused by the young rookie's enthusiastic dive into undercover work, but after spending the entire night shift with Munson reeking of excrement and unwashed flesh, they were just glad to be able to breathe freely once again.
“They're just yanking your chain.” Detective Alejandro Garcia took pity on the rookie. Munson was a baby-faced young man with a surprising ability to blend into the background. He was ideal for undercover work.
“I know,” Munson blushed. “I'm sorry,” he apologized, “for smelling up the squad room last night.” His odor had finally driven the other cops to herd Munson into the Commissioner's private office and close the door.
Garcia shrugged. “It's a part of your cover.”
“Yeah,” Munson grinned. “Nobody gets too close when you smell as bad as I did.”
“So…what are you going to do now? You can't go back near the docks like this.”
“First, I'm going to eat a great big breakfast and watch some television.” Munson's eyes lit up at the thought. “Then I guess I'll go down to the sewers and roll around in some stuff for awhile. Once that dries on me I'll put my old clothes back on and get back to the docks.”
Garcia's stomach clenched at the very thought of what Munson described. He suddenly had a greater appreciation for the young rookie and his dedication to the job.
“Say,” Munson interrupted Alex's thoughts, “have you seen Commissioner Scorpio? I need him to okay this meal voucher so that I can order in some breakfast.”Alex took a twenty dollar bill from his billfold. He had been a rookie once; he understood how tight money could be. “Here,” he offered. “Go ahead and order your food. I'll square it with the Commissioner when he gets back.”
“The Commissioner's gone?”
“Yeah,” Alex nodded. “He just headed downstairs to the garage. If you hurry, you can catch him.”
Munson held up the twenty dollar bill. “Don't need to now,” he smiled gratefully. “I'll catch up with him when he gets back from his meeting about your lady friend.”
Garcia froze. “My lady friend? You mean Dara Jensen?”
Munson nodded, already thinking about breakfast. “Yeah. Her name was on the message on his desk.”
