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This writing was accepted for publication in the 108 page perfect-bound ISSN# / ISBN# issue/book “Some Things Are Universal” Down in the Dirt v208 (6/23)  Order the paperback book: 
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A Tooth for a Tooth
Y. Len
From above, the venue of their next case resembled a cluster of Barbie townhouses nestled between the white beach and reddish mountain ridge studded with bishop pines. Rodriguez chuckled as the Barbie part reminded him of a mini chainsaw his daughter requested for her fifth birthday. Sweet girl badly needs a mother.
“So, you are awake.” Lin Dah So reacted to his chuckle with a quick look as she guided their two-seater toward the landing pad. “I saw you conked out just as we took off.”
“Yeah, not getting ‘nough sleep lately.”
After they landed, So tapped, pinched and swiped the dash display with her gloved fingers until it zoomed on two creeping red dots. She turned to Rodriguez. “So, wanna wait for them here?”
“Nah, I don’t think so, So.” He chuckled again. “We need to make it public. Let’s intercept them here.” He tapped the lower right corner of the display, then unbuckled, got out of the cruiser and took a minute adjusting his duty belt. The belt felt heavy. Heavy duty belt. Does the heavy part apply to my belt or my duties? Both?
“Let’s do this right.” Rodriguez glanced around, hawked a loogie and shuffled past the sign that asked patrons not to expectorate on the pad.
The yellow do-not-park lines and blue only-zero-emission-traffic signs guided them to the cobblestoned central plaza surrounded by manicured houses, resembling expensive toys. Color-coordinated umbrellas waved hellos, tunes of classic jazz whispered invitations and tantalizing aromas whet the appetites of sauntering passers-by. The weary August sun elongated shadows and dappled babbling ripples of the fountain. Streaked with verdigris and looking disgruntled, Neptune regurgitated a stream of water on a motherload of silver coins left behind by superstitious tourists.
A baby-faced guy in overalls sagging from one shoulder a la the Statute of Liberty and a lanky girl sporting a lacy sailor blouse and beribboned straw hat perambulated the plaza, holding hands like two birds soaring wing to wing in the placid, cerulean sky.
“Good afternoon, sir. Ma’am.” Rodriguez stepped across the path of the couple and put on an official smile. “I am Senior Equalizer Rodriguez; this is my partner, Lin Dah So.” Both nodded behind the face shields. Rodriguez poked a button on his chest. “This EQ-675CR is being recorded as per the Tri-State law.”
The guy stopped and rolled his eyes. The girl’s mouth transformed into a blood-red lipsticky letter “O”. A sultry breeze strung tendrils of emerald hair across her face. The “O” became an “Ø”.
Around them, steps halted. Background voices faded, giving way to the murmur of water disgorged from the watergod’s mouth.
Rodriguez continued, “We are here because of the incident recorded last night in the Quick Fun district of the City of Demons.” He pointed his index finger at the guy’s name tag. “Logan O’Malley, you’ve been accused... ” Rodriguez glanced at the small device on his left wrist.
“ ...and convicted... ” inserted So.
“ ...of the verbal and physical assault of a citizen of the TriState. We have an order to equalize.” Rodriguez lifted his eyes from the device as he and his partner clicked their heels together, lifted and arched their chests and squared their shoulders. “You have the right to remain silent.”
“Attention!” Rodriguez surveyed a half-circle of spectators and continued in a stentorian voice. “All men... ”
“ ...and women... ” inserted So.
An uncoordinated chorus joined the equalizers in chanting the remainder of the requisite mantra, “ ...were created equal and shall remain so forever and ever, amen!”
“ ...and awomen!” added So.
The equalizers slipped into an “at ease” stance; everybody else tensed up.
So cleared her throat and scowled at O’Malley. “So-o-o, you pink-skinned Caucasian son of a ... Scottish? ...” She shot a quick look at Rodriguez who consulted his wrist-held and shook his head. “ ...an Irish bitch. You misogynistic hete—” So glanced at the girl now displaying an oversized red period instead of an “O” on her face. “Heterosexual, gender normative prick. You fat, dumb, stinking little-penis-sour-faced bastard. You—” She stopped as soon as Rodriguez lifted his hand.
“I was drunk,” mumbled O’Malley, “I wasn’t... I request a jury—”
“Sir!” Rodriguez outstretched his palm, all fingers pointing upward. “Please continue to exercise your right to remain silent. But if it helps... ” He chuckled. “ ...feel free to imagine that I a-a-am-dru-u-u-u-n-k-too-oo-oo.” He slurred the final words and theatrically swayed on his feet. Several bystanders guffawed.
Rodriguez handed the device to So, put on a pair of sapphire-blue disposable gloves and clenched and opened his fists several times. Then he punched O’Malley in the face.
A trickle of blood from O’Malley’s nose drew a dotted scythe on the pavement as he slid down in a silent slow-mo until his head met the ground with a dull thud and jerked to the side. More blood oozed from his nose and the corner of his thin lips.
The silent crowd reeked of sour fear with nauseatingly sweet thank-God-it’s-not-me.
Rodriguez stepped over the curved bloody pattern.
“So, that’s only a mild concussion,” read So from the device as she moved it over O’Malley’s head, “we need grade two. Also, the number eleven tooth—” She lifted her head to face Rodriguez. “Hey, Rod, are you okay?”
He looked around, nodded and leant over the prostrated body.
“Open your mouth, please,” he said. “Smashed lips are pain in the... err... head.”
O’Malley gasped for breath, raised his head, croaked out “Sadist!” and spat sticky pink on Rodriguez’s face shield.
?Yea right, a sadist. How about also a murderer? Do I make you feel threatened? How about I’m just doing my job? It was someone just like you who felt justified in pulling his knife on Mary while she was doing her job. Rodriguez’s fist fell like a hammer. O’Malley’s head thumped the ground. His mouth burst red as if a tropical flower opened up to greet the sun.
“So, now the concussion’s so-so... actually, it’s good enough,” confirmed So. “How about that tooth?”
Rodriguez pushed apart O’Malley’s lips with his thumb and index finger.
“Nope! Still there.” He cradled the head with his other hand and lifted it above the pavement.
“So, wait, use the knucks, so that—” The device blared, and So turned to cut the sunlight glare on the screen. She craned her neck, reading.
“Please, please, don’t hurt him anymore. Ple-e-e-ase!” The girl in the lacy blouse sat on the pavement. She had lost her hat. Her tanned legs, now smudged with street dust mixed with her own tears, did not look long and slender anymore. Two blackish makeup streams ran down her wan face and her hands, stretched out toward the equalizers, trembled. “He’s a good man. He grew up without a father and—”
“That’s only one tooth,” said Rodriguez with a dismissive shrug. “Just as he did to the other guy. Look, in any ‘justice for all’ state, your friend would get a year or two in a big house. There, he’d most certainly have all his front teeth knocked out to better... err... please his ‘daddies’.”
The dark gap of O’Malley’s mouth, bordered by pearls and rubies of bloody teeth, reminded Rodriguez that little Emma may need braces. Paying for those from a reduced early retirement pension could be difficult. Perhaps his unanswered questions should remain unanswered a bit longer. He put on brass knuckles.
A torrent of sibilant obscenity followed a crunch of the breaking tooth, as loud as the scream it triggered. O’Malley’s hands and feet pounded the pavement. His right shoe fell off, revealing a small hole in the heel of his sock.
A murmur rose from the semi-circle of spectators. Women’s hands clutched at arms of their companions; men’s fists dug deeper into pockets. Palms covered mouths. Bulging eyes emitted frightened glances.
They’ll remember this, mused Rodriguez, and tell their family and friends. They’ll all be very attentive to one another as they go out to dinner tonight and tomorrow. But would that still work in a month? A year? And even if it did, it wouldn’t bring back Mary or make Emma’s life any—
“So, we have an update on 675CR,” said So. “The victim’s smashed index finger could not be saved. They had to amputate it just above the second phalanx.”
“Right or left?” Rodriguez took off the brass knuckles, wiped his gloved hand on the front of his uniform and ripped open a Velcro strap of the nippers’ pouch on his belt.
#
From above, the venue of their last case resembled a cluster of Barbie townhouses nestled between a white beach and a reddish mountain ridge studded with bishop pines. In the rear-view mirror, the bottom of the sun dipped into the ocean. A purplish evening haze smudged the border between water and sky along the horizon.
“So, wanna take a nap?” So punched commands into the cruiser’s autopilot. “With this wind, I’ll have to keep an eye on the controls. It’ll be at least forty minutes to the base.”
Rodriguez nodded and stretched his legs as far as the cabin space allowed.
The breeze ruffled his hair and swirled aromas of freshly cut grass, fried bacon, and coffee. Wet coolness of the morning dew on his bare feet contrasted with the warmth of the little palm in his hand. Emma looked up and opened her mouth to ask another one of the never-ending “Daddy, why...?” when the familiar blare of the communication device yanked Rodriguez halfway back to reality.
“This is So ... What? No way! How? ... Oh, weak heart, I see. Oh well, shit happens ... Yes, will do ... Thanks! You too.” A click, then silence.
Rodriguez wanted to return to Emma and her questions, but So spoke again.
“So, bad news, old man. O’Malley died of cardiac arrest. I have an order to equalize.”
A swoosh of the seatbelt slithering off his chest peeled Rodriguez’s eyes open in time to see So’s hand reaching between his legs. Toward the ejection seat’s handle.
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