The Bed You Make
Chapter 29, continued
Winston Montgomery paused outside the doorway to the squad room. He checked his appearance in the glass of a nearby display case and brushed a tiny speck of lint from his shoulder. Montgomery was five feet six inches, a single inch above the mark set by Port Charles Police Department regulations. He was slight, but muscled; an hour of lifting free weights before breakfast each morning kept him that way.
Carefully coiffed blond hair completed the young beat cop's appearance. Winston did not allow more than seven days to pass without visiting a Manhattan stylist who colored, clipped, teased and styled his thick locks. Winston's hairdo, the stylist assured him, was the current favorite of several unnamed millionaire clients of his.
With a name like Winston Dirk Montgomery, he had an image to maintain. For Winston, the expensive haircut was less a preference than a necessity. His appearance guaranteed that he would be treated with deference whether wearing his police uniform or dressed in chinos and a polo shirt. His older sister maintained that Winston was just compensating for his lack of height.
Winston dismissed his sister's claim. She couldn't possibly understand his actions. She had inherited their father's height and athleticism. Winston had inherited their mother's small build and almond shaped eyes.
"Are you as pretty as you think, Montgomery?" The police commissioner's amusement jolted Winston from his thoughts. Embarrassed, the young cop whirled around. "Commissioner!"
"Your shift ended an hour ago. What are you still doing here?"
Winston pulled a dirty piece of paper from his pocket. "I found this in the pocket of my blues, so I turned around and came back to bring it to Detective Garcia." He waited while Commissioner Scorpio briefly glanced at the grubby, handwritten note and handed it back. "I couldn't figure out how it got there until I remembered this stinky bum who was all over me at the Waffle Shack this morning," Winston explained. "He must have put it there, I guess, although I don't know why."
Mac laughed. "You were assaulted by a derelict near the docks? That was one of ours, an undercover officer." The commissioner shook his head at Munson's thoroughness. "Leave the note on Detective Garcia's desk. He's gone for the day. He'll get it tomorrow."
Montgomery hesitated. "Maybe I should drive this over to Detective Garcia's place."
"Did the note seem urgent?" Mac quizzed his young officer. "C'mon, you read it. What do you think?" Mac waited as Montgomery considered possible responses to his query. "This is the kind of stuff you'll have to figure out when you're on the street. You won't have all day to do it, either."
"I … I think I'll put it on the detective's desk," Montgomery decided.
