Page 98 of Tito

He opened his eyes. “I found out there’s some truth to my gang theory, but I’m not one step closer to bagging these pricks.” He sipped his scotch. “It’s frustrating.”

“You’ve blamed that gang for every unsolved crime since before I was in college,” Reggie said. “You don’t even know if they exist. I think you’ve been blaming them for everything because you want a reason not to retire.”

He took another sip of scotch and then smelled the glass. He looked up. “They exist.”

“Have you seen them?” he asked.

He smiled. “Every night in my dreams.”

“You’re not going to be serious about what’s bothering you, are you?”

“Probably not.”

Reggie looked at me, and then at him. “Men are idiots sometimes.”

“I won’t argue that,” he said.

I tilted my glass toward him. “Neither will I.”

“What are you blaming your little gang for now?” she asked.

“Wreaking their havoc on the innocents of this fine state.”

Reggie rolled her eyes.

“I shelter you from the details because I love you.” He finished his scotch and poured another glass. “You’ve always asked for details, and I’ve always given what I think you can handle, and no more. It’s what we do for those we love.”

“Oh. So, this tight-lipped life you’ve been living is to protect me?” she asked in a snide tone. “All of the vague stories after your late nights and long weekends?”

“When a man loves a woman, he’ll do anything to preserve that love,” he replied. “The love between a father and daughter is no exception to that rule. If anything, that bond is more sacred. Stronger. So strong, it’s impossible to sever.”

“Impossible, huh?” she scoffed. “I could go rob a bank, and you’d forgive me?”

“You’re my daughter.”

She leaned forward. “You didn’t answer me.”

“I shouldn’t have to, but I will.” He leaned forward. “Yes, I would.”

“You’d forgive me?”

“Absolutely.”

She studied him for a moment. She relaxed into the loveseat and let out a sigh. “I wish you’d retire.”

“I wish I could.”

“You can. That’s the sad part. You could have years ago.”

“Not until this case is closed,” he argued. “It’s a promise I made myself years ago.”

“You’re alive and healthy,” Reggie argued. “What if your pursuit of these fictional characters takes you into a world of reality? One where someone pulls out a gun and shoots you? Then, there’s no retirement, no fishing boat, no daughter, and no miserable son-in-law sulking on the loveseat.”

“Son-in-law?” his eyes darted between us. “Is there something I should know?”

Reggie shook her head. “I was being facetious.”

“I thought I missed the boat.”