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“Bourbon, neat, Aaron,” I replied, holding up two fingers to indicate how much in the glass. He placed a tumbler on the rubber mat in front of me, gave me a generous pour of Maker’s Mark, and pushed it my way.

“Thanks, Aaron,” I said, gratefully eyeing the amber liquid.

“Seems you came in to escape the day, but heads up, you’ve got company heading this way,” he replied, tipping his head to the side. He moved down the bar to refill someone’s beer.

Sure enough, as I looked, Flanigan and a couple of his patrol buddies were approaching. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with any more conversation tonight, and by the look of Flanigan and his posse, they looked as if they were feeling no pain. Before I knew it, they were standing too close. I noticed one of his friends seemed to be pretty sober, and he caught Flanigan’s arm when he stumbled into him slightly.

“Hey there, Jonesy,” Flanigan slurred. I could smell the beer on his breath.

“Flanigan… you guys doing good?” I replied, trying to stay friendly to all three patrolmen who were out of uniform. I felt my grip tighten on my glass as I looked at them.

“We heard you got some beauty queen’s murder to solve,” Flanigan said, sloshing his beer.

I gave him a slight frown. “Sean and I are working on the case, yes.”

“We heard she was quite pretty,” he said, thick-tongued. The other two snickered.

I turned to look at him. “Seriously? Don’t you think that’s inappropriate about a murder victim?”

“Aww, come on,” he grumbled. “But I guess it wouldn’t really matter to you now, would it?” He leaned toward me in a taunting manner.

I stood slowly, towering over him by a few inches. “What the fuck does that mean, Flanigan?” I was hoping my size and flaring nostrils would make him back down.

He stepped back and bumped into one of his friends, the one who was relatively sober. Flanigan huffed, “We all know your kind.” I could see both his friends looked just as shocked as I was at his boldness.

I wasn’t sure if he was being racist or homophobic, but I wasn’t about to tolerate his behavior or deal with a known prick from the precinct tonight. “I think you’ve had enough, Flanigan. It’s time you went home before you say something you shouldn’t,” I replied, trying to keep my cool. I felt my fingernails dig into my tightly clenched fists.

“Or what? You gonna report me? You detectives think you’re so…so superior to us patrol officers.”

“Hey, Kev, I-I think you need to stop. Jonesy used to be a patrol officer, and a decorated one,” one of his friends said. I’d seen the man in the squad room with Flanigan before, but I didn’t know his name because we’d never interacted.

“I think that would be a wise thing to do,” I said directly to Flanigan, whose eyes seemed to have a difficult time focusing. From the corner of my eye, I noticed Aaron approaching our group behind the bar.

“Gentlemen, is everything okay?” Aaron asked.

Flanigan snorted. “Oh, yeah…everything is fine. Just ask the decorated gay detective here who likes to take it up the…” was all he got out before my fist connected with his nose. The distinct crunch told me I’d probably broken it.

Flanigan wobbled and fell back, beer flying, into his buddies, who broke his fall. His nose was bleeding as he coughed and spat, trying to figure out what had just run into him.

“Holy shit!” came from someone across the room.

“Ho, boy,” Aaron said, grabbing a clean bar rag and tossing it to the sober one holding Flanigan’s arms.

“Fuck me!” I said to myself. That was not good.

“Get him to the ER. It’s probably broken,” I told his buddies. “Aaron, wet another rag they can take with them, if you wouldn’t mind.”

His two friends righted him to take him out, and as Aaron passed me a wet bar rag, I said, “Take this with you guys. I’ll report what happened here tonight.”

We all knew the incident would spread like wildfire at the precinct, and I needed to head it off. They’d be getting statements from Flanigan and his friends, but given what went down, I felt what I did was justified. I wanted to get my statement written immediately.

All Flanigan could do was moan and clutch the bar rag to his face as they left the bar. My adrenaline from the altercation was waning, and I realized the frustration I’d been feeling since talking to Craig had led to me hurting someone. Someone who was an asshole, but still, there was no excuse, even though what he had been about to say was uncalled for. I’d been called worse things and had to defend myself in the past, but rarely had it made me strike out, ending up with someone getting a bloody nose.

“You okay?” Aaron asked, giving me a pinched smile.

The bar had returned to the low din of conversation and drinking. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m sorry about what happened, Aaron.”

He waved his hand in understanding as I pulled out my wallet and tossed a twenty onto the bar. “I got your back as a witness, Jonesy,” he replied.