Felix returned to the station and uploaded the USB footage into the system.
But cases like this rarely saw an arrest. The thief had been careful with his disguise, no clear face to work with, and the loss was too small for anyone to invest serious resources. They'd run the database, maybe get a hit, maybe not. More likely, it would be left to gather dust. After all, according to the FBI's 2019 statistics, the nationwide clearance rate for burglaries stood at a staggering 13 percent.
Steal with confidence, gentlemen—if the cops actually catch you, I'll eat my badge.
The cash register was the only thing with a trace. A point-of-sale terminal wasn't much use to the thief himself. He'd have to sell it off, probably already sitting in some second-hand shop window. But then again, maybe the junkie was still high and hadn't pawned it yet. Maybe the shop had hidden it away, waiting for the heat to die down. Or maybe the cops just walked past it. Either way, with odds like these, reporting the crime was more for peace of mind than any real justice.
Felix strolled lazily back to his cruiser. He wasn't in the mood to patrol aimlessly anymore, too tired for that. Better to find a quiet spot, sit tight, and let the tickets come to him. He pulled to the curb, set the radar running, and waited for some unlucky driver to roll into the trap.
Thump.
The cruiser jolted, the roof sagging under sudden weight. Felix jumped out, turned—and froze.
A huge, bald black man stood stark naked on the roof of his car, gyrating his hips in rhythm.
"Get down!"
The man tossed him a sultry look, swaying like it was a stage. "Nooo~"
"The hell you mean, no? Get down." Felix muttered a curse under his breath, his hand hovering near his gun more than once. Each time he stopped himself.
Seeing that, the man only moved wilder, swinging his waist, belly flesh rippling in the sun.
A line from some movie came to mind: Can you dance any sluttier?
Apparently he could.
Felix grimaced. No way he was laying hands on this guy. He sighed and reached for the radio.
"Dispatch, this is Adam-388. I've got a naked male on top of my unit, dancing. Requesting backup."
"…Say that again?" The dispatcher sounded skeptical.
"A black male, mid-thirties, fully nude, on top of my patrol car, dancing. He's dented the roof already. Send someone, please."
"Copy that. Units en route."
And Felix could swear he heard laughter on the other end.
The man plopped down on the hot roof, unfazed. Felix tried, "It's burning up there. Come down, I'll buy you a Coke."
"You buy first."
Felix rolled his eyes. Like hell I will.
Before he could scheme another trick, multiple sirens cut in. Several cruisers screeched to a halt. Too many. And when Felix saw who stepped out, his stomach sank.
Perfect. Now he'd never hear the end of this.
Mark was grinning ear to ear. "The moment Dispatch called it in, I rounded up the guys. Didn't want anyone to miss the show." Behind him came Frank, Rick, and Antrim—all of them enjoying the spectacle.
Surrounded, the naked man perked up again, bouncing and shaking, flopping about with abandon.
"Enough jokes. Get him down," Felix muttered.
"Your car, your problem."
"I don't want to touch him."
"Neither do I."
It was Antrim who finally sighed, stepped forward, and spoke: "Hey, man. Fun's over. Time to get down."
"No! I want to dance. How do I look?"
"Save it for lockup." Antrim fetched a pair of gloves from his unit, passed extras to Felix and Mark.
Felix tugged his on, shooting Mark a look. "Let's move. Dinner's on me."
"I'm thinking Providence. I hear their seafood's divine." Providence—Michelin three stars. Expensive, guaranteed.
"Go home and eat durian instead."
Frank laughed. "Forget that. Come over to my place. Bring your girls if you want. My backyard's big, perfect for barbecue and beer."
"Now that's an offer."
"Only if it's not a bother."
"Not at all. Tomorrow night then?"
"Hey!" The man shouted from the roof, indignant. "Can you respect me a little? Dancing up here is hard work, okay?"
The officers shared a glance. Then moved in.
Antrim yanked open the door, stepped on the side rail, and caught the man's arm. The others grabbed legs, shoulders, head. The man fought wildly, thrashing hard enough to smash a side mirror clean off.
Frank finally snapped cuffs onto his wrists. "Alright, pal. At first this was just public indecency. But now you've damaged a police vehicle. You're under arrest for disorderly conduct and destruction of public property. At the station you'll have the right to call your lawyer—if you've got one."