After exchanging a few more casual words, Jay hung up and returned to the hall.
At that moment, Allen was busy binding the case files he had sorted earlier. He immediately stood up when he saw Jay.
"Hey, don't be so formal. We're just colleagues," Jay said.
"Yes, Sir!"
"Don't call me Sir. It makes me feel weird. Just call me Jay."
"Understood, Sir!"
"…Uh, suit yourself." Jay shrugged, looking at the documents in Allen's hand. "Are they all sorted?"
"Yes, Sir. These are all the pending unsolved cases for the year, and…" He lowered his voice. "…and the 'almost' wrongful convictions where the evidence is clearly problematic."
"And this one…" He pulled out a slightly thinner booklet from underneath. "These are all the cases involving crimes against children this year, a total of seventy-eight incidents."
"…Give them to me. I'll take a look." Jay tossed the files onto his desk and flipped through a few pages. The pages were clean and neat, the content clear and concise.
"Oh, Allen, I predict you'll be a Captain someday. Seriously, a person who works this diligently will succeed at anything."
"Thank you for the compliment, Sir!"
"Right, you and Anna should both go home for the holiday. No need to stay here."
"But, Sir, according to the Patrol Officer's Duty Manual, we must…"
"The rule won't matter for just one day. I'm afraid you two will drag me down." Jay waved his hand. "Don't cause me trouble."
"Yes… Thank you, Sir!"
"Don't thank me too soon. Don't leave before six! There will definitely be a lot of petty thieves and robbers before dinner tonight. I don't want to be writing reports all night."
In the afternoon, he drove around the streets slowly, picking up a lot of groceries that he stashed in the supply room.
Just as he predicted, a flood of suspects began pouring into the precinct starting at four o'clock.
Theft, petty robbery, brawls… the holding cells were quickly packed full. The rush didn't slow down until nearly six-thirty.
"Alright, you can go." He waved to Allen and Anna. "You've already helped a great deal."
Apart from the officers on duty, everyone else had vanished.
"Well… Merry Christmas, Sir!"
The two saluted him and left the precinct.
Jay looked at the dozen or so sluggish officers still on duty in the hall, then glanced at the Lieutenant, the highest-ranking officer present.
"Sir, can I say a few words?"
"Oh, go ahead."
As an officer just a few months away from retirement, the Lieutenant couldn't care less what these people wanted.
As long as you don't burn down the precinct on my watch, you can do whatever you want.
"Folks, I don't want to be eating frozen pizza and sandwiches and drinking stale, bad coffee on Christmas," Jay clapped his hands loudly. "Does anyone want Chinese food?"
Truthfully, more than half of the people present weren't keen on Chinese food. But once someone started cheering, the matter changed entirely.
Instantly, all the officers, including many of the prisoners behind the cell bars, raised their hands and shouted their agreement.
"OK! Let me open your eyes."
Jay took off his police uniform, rolled up his sleeves, and headed into the kitchen.
About forty minutes later, Jay and the supply staff brought out several large basins of fried rice, twice-cooked pork, General Tso's chicken, and a huge steaming pot of beef bone soup that had been simmering since the afternoon, filled with shredded meat.
This cost him another hundred and fifty dollars out of his remaining three thousand-plus.
"Woah! Woah! Woah!"
The hall immediately erupted in excitement. The officers might not have genuinely loved Chinese food, but they loved the atmosphere. Anything to make the dull duty hours more fun.
Everyone instantly crowded around, using mess trays or even empty pizza boxes to portion out the food.
Smelling the aroma, some of the prisoners behind the bars asked flatteringly, "Officer, there's so much food. Can we have some too?"
"Yeah, yeah, I haven't even eaten lunch yet."
"If you can guarantee to celebrate quietly tonight without causing trouble…"
"No problem! We guarantee it!" many shouted.
Of course, there were a few jarring voices like "Damn cops, dream on!" But they were instantly drowned out by screams and curses as the other inmates started punching and kicking them.
A holiday should be festive, after all. A spectacle like this makes it much more cheerful.
But the happy times are always short-lived. Just after nine o'clock, the dispatcher lifted the phone and shouted, "We have an unusual case here!"
The hall instantly fell silent.
Regardless of rank, everyone, including the Lieutenant on duty, turned to look at Jay.
Damn it, why are you all looking at a Patrol Officer Second Grade! Am I the one who has to take the blame for everything?
He cursed inwardly but waved his chin at the dispatcher. "What is it?"
"Uh… Barrell's Restaurant on Frosting Street was attacked. Severe injuries, major losses."
"Huh?"
Almost all the police officers and the longer-serving inmates cried out. "Isn't that Sal Maroni's turf?"
A shudder went through everyone.
Only the Romans had the power to hit Maroni's place on Christmas Day. That meant the storm of war was about to sweep across all of Gotham.
From now on, Gotham won't be able to celebrate any holidays.
But for a mobster like Maroni to call the police for help after being hit by Falcone, it meant he was barely alive and essentially finished.
Maybe the chaos would end quickly?
"Did they say how many people Falcone sent?" Jay jumped up, grabbing his body armor and asking while putting it on. "Was there heavy firepower?"
"No… The witness only saw a shadow in a weird cloak."
Shit…
Jay took the body armor off again.
This is probably young Master Wayne's night patrol starting up. I'd better not get in the way.
You want to play, fine, but why pick Christmas Day? Doesn't anyone else get a holiday!
Or is it that, because no one is with you for the holiday, you decided to bring your whole family along to fight criminals?
"I think they probably drank too much. You all know what Barrell's Restaurant is like. How many people and how many guns are in there?" He watched everyone nod, then continued, "One shadow in a cloak… What does that remind you of?"
Everyone exchanged glances. Suddenly, someone in the holding cell raised a hand and answered tentatively, "The Shadow (1994 film)?"
"Exactly. So I guess they got into a fight over a movie while drunk. What do we care? They should watch less of that crazy stuff."
"You're right, but Penelope is really beautiful."
"Forget that, Cameron Diaz is the real beauty!"
But that was just the beginning.
Half an hour later, a second business called in a report. This time it was one of Falcone's warehouses near the docks.
Judging by the incoherent report, it was still a shadow in a cloak moving through the night.
"Alright, I'll go take a look." Jay called over a rookie officer who was relatively good at writing reports. "Remember, if you get another call like this, tell them the officers are already en route, and then send the address to me."
"Hooray!"
With someone stepping up to take the heat, the duty officers, following the East Precinct's habit of slacking off, cheered and nodded enthusiastically.
Jay and the rookie got into the Ford. The thick, bulletproof tires, wrapped in anti-skid chains, crunched through the heavy snow, roaring toward the empty streets.
"Woah, that's rough."
Barrell's Restaurant was dark inside and out, with over a dozen people lying on the ground. None were dead, but almost everyone had broken arms or legs, and two at least had comminuted fractures all over their bodies.
Spent casings, shattered tableware, burned cash, and splattered blood were everywhere.
Since there was no one left to explain what happened, he had to use the restaurant's landline to call an ambulance, record the scene, and then head straight to the next crime scene.
En route, the precinct sent another message: the shadow had raided another restaurant in the Old Quarter, again Falcone's turf. The situation at the dock warehouse was identical, with the accountant having all his teeth knocked out. Seven or eight guards were there, and not one could coherently describe the attack.
"Tsk tsk, this guy is a real pervert."
The accompanying officer took photos, feeling sick. His voice trembled. "Do we really have to keep chasing this?"
"What else? If Falcone's people can't handle him, you think they can't handle you?" Jay patted his shoulder. "At worst, if danger shows up, we just run a little slower."
"You're right," the officer shrugged. "I never thought being a cop would mean dealing with Rambo."
"If it's Rambo, thank God. What if it was Marshal BraveStarr?" Jay downshifted the speed. "It's snowing, and it's night. Drive safely. We'll take it slow."
——————
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