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“What the hell are you talking about?” Bill demanded of Officer Davies. “It says oh seven two. That’s way lower than point oh eight.”

“Point oh eight is driving under the influence, point oh four is driving while impaired, sir. You are well above the oh four for DWI and you were driving recklessly.

“We have a couple of options here,” Davies continued, “Like I said, you can sit in my squad car until another officer can swing by to arrest you, which gets you out of my hair, or you can do as you’re told and if the Gibeons want you in their house and you can keep your mouth shut then I can talk to Mrs. Gibeon and find out what transpired tonight.

“What’ll it be, Mr. Finger?”

Bill tilted his head to the left, looked Officer Davies in the eye, stuck his tongue up to the spot in his mouth where his left eyetooth and first bicuspid touched, moved it swiftly back and forth twice over the cusped, aka eyetooth, and then exhaled loudly. “You’re really not making this up?”

“I could be offended by that remark but I’ll take it as a sign in your favor. Most everybody’s familiar with the oh eight limit but usually it’s just repeat customers who know about the oh four. We tend to reserve it for people who were driving recklessly, like you were. First offense DWI can carry license suspension, a fine and possible imprisonment. Oh, yeah. And eight points on your license, not to mention court time. So what do you say?”

Bill smiled broadly and answered, “I don’t think it’s in my best interest to answer that candidly so let’s just leave it at I’d appreciate it if you could let me see Gabrielle and overlook my possible infraction, Officer.”

“‘Possible.’ I like that. You a lawyer?”

“No. I’m a drug dealer. Pharmaceuticals. I spend some time in court because of my job. Can we go in?”

“We can ask Mr. Gibeon. Not my call as to whether you come in, right?”

“Sure. You know when I got my license the legal limit was one five?” he asked as they headed up the sidewalk to the front door.

“That limit ended before I was born. MADD and SADD and federal funding helps. Some.”

The Gibeon’s front door was open and Davies did a courtesy knock on the frame. “Mr. Gibeon? This gentleman says that you called him and asked him to come over?”

“Mr. Finger!” Duvan replied, “thank you for coming! I did not know what to do when Adriel didn’t answer the phone and I was so happy to see another familiar name in her emergency contacts.”

Adriel sat shriveled in his wheelchair looking up at his wife’s lover and Bill’s head went back perceptible inches as he stood in the doorway. “Always glad to help, Duvan. Mr. Gibeon,” he said nodding to Adriel, “may I come in?”