Two plain-clothes detectives sauntered up to the trio. “Who made the stop?”
Parelli lifted his hand.
One detective, a moose of a man, towered over Dino and thumped him on the back. “We’ve been looking for this guy. He’s responsible for robberies in four other jurisdictions, plus some in San Jose.”
The other detective, black, tall, and athletic, shook Dino’s hand. “Good police work. If you don’t mind, we’ll get consent to search the car, tow it, and take the guy in. Okay?”
Bander croaked, “Why get consent to search?”
The first detective advised, “That fucking Supreme Court decision makes everything muddy. Consent is best.”
Bander and Parelli laughed; the sergeant escaped to his car. Parelli held his hand out. Bander passed the duck call to him. Parelli and Bander went to the sergeant, and Parelli handed it to him.
“I won’t do it anymore. Sorry I made you mad.”
The sergeant stared. Bander stood silent. Parelli walked off.
The sergeant barked at him, “Parelli.”