Mezke Bar.

"Cheers!"

The members of Squad One from the Robbery and Murder Department raised their glasses to drink together.

There were nine people present in total, including the members of Squad One and Assistant Chief Reid.

Assistant Chief Reid, who oversaw the Robbery and Murder Department, also served as its director.

Assistant Chief Reid took a big gulp of beer, "I'm really happy to be invited today. It's been a long time since I've had such a carefree drink."

The assistant team leader curled his lip, "Does your wife even control your drinking now?"

"Yeah, you know Kamosi's personality; she doesn't like me drinking."

"Reid, I've told you before, the relationship between a husband and wife isn't equal; there's always a dominant side. If you keep giving in, she'll have you under her thumb to the point where even eating an extra bite of food can become a fault."

Reid shrugged, "It's not as serious as you say; I just don't like to argue."

"That's exactly what she's zeroing in on, constantly trying to test and suppress you. You have to be firm sometimes so you can fight for a fair position.

If a man can't even freely drink beer in his own house..."

Susan interrupted, "Assistant team leader, marriage isn't a competition; it's about cooperation and love.

Reid isn't afraid of his wife; he loves her."

Luke also felt the assistant team leader was being a bit reckless. While his words were carefree, it wasn't particularly good to hear things he shouldn't. Curiosity showed on his face, "Chief, how long have you and the assistant team leader known each other?"

"Whoa, that's quite a story." Reid nodded and looked towards the assistant team leader, "Can I tell it?"

"Why not?" The assistant team leader shrugged.

Reid reminisced, "That must have been twenty years ago. I was only in my twenties, much like Luke now, handsome, idealistic, ambitious..."

The assistant team leader interrupted, "You didn't look anything like Luke when you were young; you were more like Marcus is now."

Marcus chuckled, "Really?"

Reid directly shattered his illusion, "The assistant team leader is fooling you. I was way better than you when I was young, I solved many big cases. The chief back then really appreciated me..."

Marcus "..."

"Stop! No more self-praise, let me tell the story." The assistant team leader took over, "When he first came to the detective agency, he was just a greenhorn, didn't know squat. At that time, I was already an experienced detective chief.

He was under my charge, Chief Vincent, Detective Reid.

Just like David and Luke now...

A few years later, it turned into Chief Vincent, Chief Reid.

And a few more years, Chief Vincent, Assistant Chief Reid.

And some more years, Chief Vincent, Chief Reid...

Until now, as you all know."

Everyone listened, wanting to laugh but not daring to.

Luke felt some sympathy for the assistant team leader. What had he gone through all these years? To continue working at the Robbery and Murder Department, one must have a very strong heart.

David, who had been munching on nuts, paused and looked back and forth between the assistant team leader and Reid, then glanced at Luke...

The atmosphere turned a bit awkward, and Reid laughed, "Although I outrank you, I've always had a lot of respect for you.

I've learned a lot from you, what to do and what not to do.

My achievements today have a lot to do with you."

The assistant team leader joked, "Are you trying to say 'the pupil surpasses the master'? No, I won't admit that."

Reid laughed heartily, "You're right; your experience in solving cases is richer than anyone's, I can't compare. But I haven't done those things I shouldn't have."

"OK, let's call it a night for this gathering," the assistant team leader stood up, pretending to leave.

Chief Reid quickly grabbed him, "Come on, I was just joking."

"I'll take a penalty drink." Reid downed half a glass of beer in one go.

The assistant team leader sat back down. The two had known each other for twenty years and had been partners before, so naturally, he wouldn't really be angry; they quickly resumed their chat.

Luke asked David, who was beside him, "How's it going?"

"I took her to the rehab center."

"You know what I'm asking."

David sipped his drink, "She brought it up on her own, and I agreed."

"Good."

David seemed not to want to discuss it any further, "When do you plan to buy a car?"

"Still researching. What do you think of a Porsche Cayenne?"

"The brand is good, but the price isn't cheap."

"I've checked. It's about the same price as the BMW 7 series." In his previous life, Luke had heard about how cheap foreign cars were, but it wasn't until he arrived in Los Angeles that he realized just how inexpensive they could be. The BMW 7 series and Porsche Cayenne were about eighty thousand US dollars.

Half the price compared to back home.

"They're both good cars; it depends on what you like."

A head popped over, "Wow, which one of you is buying a car?"

"Me, any good suggestions?"

"Hey, that's a no-brainer, definitely the Cadillac Escalade. Is there a better car than that?" Little Black said as if it were obvious.

David shrugged, "I figured as much."

The Cadillac has a high status in the black music community.

Around the world, there are over 2,000 songs that mention 'Cadillac'. There's an unwritten rule in the music industry—if you want your music video to be impressive, you need a Cadillac.

The Cadillac influences hip-hop culture, represented by black people, where luxury cars have always been an important element of rap music.

The Cadillac embodies the relentless desires of countless black rappers, telling the story of their indomitable spirit.

Luke nodded, "I'll consider it."

But in reality, he'd already passed on the idea. The car was too big, a seven-seater; what did he need all that space for when he was usually driving alone?

Little Black laughed, "If you're thinking of selling your Harley, remember to consider me."

"Don't even think about it, I'm not selling my Harley." Luke was buying a new car because he needed one, not because he didn't like motorbikes.

Riding the motorcycle on holidays was still pretty cool.

...

At ten o'clock in the evening, the gathering ended.

Reid had drunk too much to drive, so his colleague took him home.

Luke said goodbye to everyone and went to look for his motorcycle.

He circled around but didn't see it.

What's going on?

Luke wasn't drunk, he was very clear-headed. How could his Harley be missing?

David asked, "What are you standing there looking dumb for? Didn't you ride a bike? Do you need a lift?"

"My Harley is gone."

"What do you mean?" David was bewildered as well.

"Some idiot stole my bike!"

...

Five minutes later.

A patrol car stopped at the curb.

The driver was a black female officer, with short hair, and she looked very serious.

A white male officer, who looked to be in his forties, stepped out from the passenger side,

"Who called the cops?"

"That'd be me." Luke sized up the middle-aged officer, his gaze fell on the officer's epaulettes, "Are you sure you didn't wear the wrong uniform?"

The middle-aged officer shrugged, "I just switched to being a patrol officer, you know."

The black female officer, with her hands on her utility belt, asked, "You lost a motorcycle?"

"Correct, I parked it right here."

"Was it locked?"

"Of course, I wouldn't make such an amateur mistake."

"When did you park the motorcycle here? And when did you realize it was stolen?"

"Around 7:10 pm, I came to Mezke Bar with my colleagues. I parked the Harley near the entrance to the bar, and when I came out at ten after the gathering, I found the motorcycle was gone, so I called the police."

"Tell me the model, color, license plate number of the motorcycle, and if there are any special markings etc.?"

Luke sighed, unused to this feeling; usually, he was the one asking the questions, and now he was the one being asked, "2021 Harley Fat Boy, black, license plate 8LkL518."

"Show me your driver's license and your cell phone number."

Luke handed her his driver's license and gave his cell phone number.

The black female officer noted down his information, "Okay, Mr. Luke, we've got the details of the motorcycle. We'll notify the other patrol officers to help search for it, and we'll contact you once it's found."

"How may I address you?"

The white middle-aged officer said, "My name is John, and this is Officer Afra, my training officer."

Luke asked, "Could I have a contact number?"

John handed over a business card.

"Thanks for the effort, I owe you a drink sometime." Luke took the card and waved goodbye.

He didn't mention he was also with the LAPD.

A bunch of seasoned detectives coming out for a social gathering, and after that, a bike gets stolen.

It wasn't just he who was embarrassed.

"Fuck, damn bike thieves."