Flying Solo

[Robbie C.]

Another quick little tale. Nothing fancy.

 

“Miguel Manolo was assassinated last night.” Castillo’s words hung in the still air of the conference room.

Ricardo Tubbs shifted in his chair. “Doesn’t that make it a Homicide case, lieutenant?” His voice was sharp, maybe a bit more than he’d intended.

“Yes.” Castillo ignored the bite. “But what happens to his organization falls on us.”

Trudy nodded. “With him gone, lots of dealers are gonna be scrambling for suppliers. Little fish looking to become big fish.”

“The street doesn’t like a vacuum. It will fill it. What that looks like is something we can control.” Castillo looked around the room. “Gina, you and Trudy are coming off the Yolan operation. I need you to focus on the street side of Manolo’s operations. Switek, work with them. At least twenty street dealers worked for the Manolo organization. I want as many of them off the streets as we can manage. Work with Patrol and Narcotics. Use your CIs. Don’t hold anything back.”

Tubbs leaned back in his chair. “And where am I during all this fun?”

“Working this man.” Castillo opened a folder and slid a face shot down the table. “Gustavo Perez.”

“Yeah, I know this chump. Good for up to ten keys on a good day, but likes to pretend he can handle more. He’s been on Manolo’s payroll for maybe a couple of months. Before that he was a runner with the Boroscos before they got busted.”

“Perez is positioning himself to take control of half of Manolo’s old territory. We can’t let that happen. He’s your problem as of now.”

Rico picked up the photo and grinned. “I bet he just can’t say no to a rich dude down from New York with a suitcase of cash and a need for some top-grade party favors.”

“Gorman and Dibble are available if you need back-up.”

“Thanks but no thanks, lieutenant. Those two Sears catalog rejects would just cramp my style. Gustavo likes Rudolfo’s and The Overton, not Waffle House and Bomber’s.”

Stan laughed. “There’s nothing wrong with Bomber’s. Great place if you need a pitcher and a brawl to go. Waffle House, though? Even I draw the line there.”

Rico grinned, but the smile died on his face. “Any word about Sonny in all this, lieutenant?”

“No. There’s been no word since he shot Yagovich. Homicide still has the case. It’s not our business. Stopping a turf war is.”

Back at his desk, Rico tried to focus on gathering what information he had on Gustavo Perez. He had a faint memory of working an operation on him before, only to have it fall through when the chump got picked up for trying to sell a stolen car. Still, he’d have to be sure before he reached out again. Make sure the cover names lined up. He also needed to be certain he hadn’t worked the case with Sonny.

As he flipped through the files, Rico let his mind wander to the other reason he wanted the case. It was a perfect chance to pick up information about Sonny. Where he might be. What he’d been doing with the Manolo organization. He couldn’t believe his partner had just gone over. Turned his back on everything he knew and believed for money. But he could believe something had happened to him. Something bad enough or serious enough to make him forget who he was and turn him into Burnett.

When he found it, he smiled. Two years back, and he’d been working it alone while Sonny was off on some department-mandated training thing. And he’d been running as Cooper, so it wouldn’t be hard to reach out and reconnect. Just why him and why now? Play into the dude’s ego. Gustavo always liked to hear himself talk. Rico closed the folder and smiled. He had his in. Now he just had to get the word out.

“What makes you think I know where he drinks?”

Rico grinned. “Come on, Switek. You know where all the cool kids hang out.”

“Don’t kid a kidder, Rico. You always lose.” But Stan smiled just the same. “I ain’t heard anything about Perez for a couple months now. He used to favor The Bait Shop down by the water, but once he tied in with Manolo he stopped going there. You said in the briefing he likes The Overton. Maybe start there.”

“I was just guessin’ on that one, Stan. Last time I had any business with him was two years ago, right before he got picked up for GTA. But even then he was a climber. Always tryin’ to sell you on something he didn’t have.”

Stan looked at him. “You’re not thinking about asking him other stuff, are you?”

“Come on, Stan. The lieutenant said it wasn’t our case.”

“Yeah. And I know you, Rico. Don’t screw your career up sticking your nose in Homicide’s business. Those jerks have long memories and good connections.”

“Yeah. But it feels like they’re not doing anything. Just taking the easy way out.” Rico leaned over the desk. “I know you don’t care much for Sonny these days, Stan, but even you gotta say this ain’t like him at all.”

“Maybe not. But it’s not our case.” Stan’s eyes changed. “And if the shoe was on the other foot, you really think he’d risk it all looking for you? Anyhow, I gotta get moving. Gonna take lots of film to cover that many street dealers.”

Rico started to reply, but bit back his own words. He’d pushed Stan too hard, forgetting just how deep the wounds were with him. And he couldn’t really blame him. Zito had deserved better, and Sonny handled the whole situation badly. And deep down he wasn’t sure if Stan was totally wrong about what he said.

The Overton was just starting to fill up when Rico settled into a spot at the bar where he cold see the pink and blue neon accent the figures of the waitresses in their cocktail napkin-sized dresses. Most of the crowd was younger, the kind who hung on the edges of the drug underworld snorting their money up their collective noses and occasionally went down in the crossfire between rival dealers. Ordering a scotch, Rico sipped and let the feel of the place wash over him.

He was on his second drink when the bartender recognized him. “Hey, Mr. Cooper! Been a while.”

“Yeah. I had business back in New York.” Rico gave him the narrow Cooper grin. “Green business.”

“I hear ya.” The bartender set down his rag and leaned a bit closer, even though the blaring music made it impossible to hear anyone more than five feet away. “Been a bit crazy here since someone took out Miguel Manolo.”

“I heard about that. So business is slow?”

“Not like you’d think. Lotsa people looking to fill his shoes.”

A fifty appeared on the bar next to Rico’s hand. “Maybe you can help me out. I’m looking for a guy named Perez. Used to be on his own, but I heard he’d tied up with Manolo. We had business once, and I want to see if he’s still good for it.”

“Gustavo Perez? Yeah, he’s in most nights. A bit early for him, but you’ll know when he gets here.” The man grinned. “He’s got a thing for one of our girls and she don’t like him at all. You see the little brunette there head for the back, you know Gustavo’s in the house.”

The man’s hand started to cover the fifty when Rico’s hand clamped on his wrist like a vise. “Not a word to Perez. Don’t worry, nothin’ is going down. I just don’t want anyone giving him the wrong idea.” He locked eyes with the man for a long minute before turing his wrist loose. “And I’ll take another scotch on the rocks.”

It was almost nine before Perez strutted through the doors. Rico took a drink to hide his grin. No way you could miss the chump with his six feet of gold chain and that stupid white shirt unbuttoned almost all the way. Looks like he watched Scarface about ten times too many. The man hadn’t changed a bit since Rico last saw him. If anything he’d gotten worse. Which either meant he’d upped his status or was faking it. Time to find out which.

Perez was almost to the bar when Rico spoke. “Gustavo Perez. I thought you were gonna call me. What the hell happened?”

Fear flashed in the dealer’s eyes, replaced by confusion and then recognition. “Rico Cooper! My man! I was gonna call, but I got pinched for a car my idiot cousin stole. When I got out, you was nowhere to be found.”

“Business, my man. New York business.” Rico tugged on the sleeves of his Armani suit coat. “There is a world outside Miami, my friend, and I spend most of my time in it.”

“Yeah, I keep hearin’ about that. But it’s been busy here, man.” Perez elbowed his way into a spot next to Rico and waved for a drink. “Tequila! Neat. Now, like I was sayin’ it’s been busy down here. Lotsa changes.”

“I heard about that. Some of it, anyhow. And that’s why I’m here. My associates want to make sure our supply lines remain intact. Manolo’s exit could mean disruption, and we don’t want that.”

“Then you found the right guy.”

Rico chuckled. “Last I heard you were a ten key guy, Gustavo. That ain’t even gonna make it past breakfast in New York. No matter how much we cut it.”

“Old news, Cooper. Old news.” Perez swallowed half his drink and grinned, his polished teeth glittering as the neon hit them. “I was Manolo’s main guy for dealing with the Columbian side of the operation. No one else has those connections. I partner with you, your people get access to all their product.”

“So, you do fifteen keys instead of ten?”

“Try fifty keys. These boys don’t play around.”

“And how do I know you can keep those connections? Gonna be lots of people looking to snap up what Manolo had.”

“Don’t I know it? If it ain’t the Carreras it’s the Mendozas or some other bunch of would-be kingpins.”

“That don’t answer my question, Gustavo. My associates want reliability. Something Miami doesn’t seem to have much of these days.” He decided to try a long shot. “Like that Burnett guy. Blonde with a fast boat. I used him to move product a year or so back and now he’s just disappeared.”

Perez laughed and waved for another drink. “You need to spend more time down in the sun, Cooper. Burnett, he’s in the big leagues now. Like Yankees big league.”

“How do you figure?”

“He was tight with Manolo. Ran his security. Word is he personally took care of that Gutierrez problem. But the boss? He started seein’ things. Claimed Burnett was a cop. Can you believe that crazy shit? Burnett took care of Gutierrez. Ain’t no cop gonna do that.”

“So did he take down Manolo?”

“Naw. Even with the whispers he stayed loyal to the boss. At least until it all went down.” Perez took his second drink and slurped down half of it. “Then he just disappeared like some damned ghost. You ask me? He made a soft landing with the Carreras or some other organization. Dude had serious skills. Kind the bosses pay top dollar for.”

“So you knew him?”

“Naw. Only by reputation. Saw him a time or two. Wearin' all black like some damned undertaker.” Perez laughed. “Guess it ain’t half wrong though considerin’ how much business he sent them.”

Rico nodded, letting it all turn in his head. What kind of angle was Sonny working? He knew there had to be one, just like he knew his partner hadn’t gone over. “You figure he’ll come after you for your connections?”

“Me? Naw. Burnett ain’t much into the product. I’d be worried if I was smugglin’ booze, but he never touched the product. And speakin’ of product, what kind of deal are you after?”

“Fifteen to start with. More later if the product’s good. And you can deliver on schedule.” Rico grinned. “I figure fifteen shouldn’t strain your fishing boats too much.”

“Yeah. And I can move that without drawin’ too much attention right off.” Perez looked around. “Like you said, Cooper, I gotta make sure no one’s comin’ after my connections.” He finished his drink. “So we say fifteen at thirty-five a key?”

“What’s the purity? And I gotta have samples. You sell me something that’s stepped on and local issues are the least of your worries, Gustavo.”

“My guys can bring in eighty percent pure no problem. Higher costs more ‘cause of what they gotta do on their end.”

Rico gave his best understanding nod. “How soon can you set up a deal?”

“How soon can you get me the cash? You get the money, the party favors will be there. Packaged and ready for shipping.” He looked around. “Thing is, I can only get the product to Miami. Anyplace after that is on you.”

“I’ll check with my associates. They may not be too happy paying thirty-five per if they have to foot delivery costs, too.”

“Look, man. There’s some give in that number. Just not a whole lot. We get the quantity up, I can work the margins and bring the cost down.”

“I’ll take it to them. Best I can do right now.” Rico finished his own scotch and pushed himself off the bar stool. “You got a number I can get you at?”

“Sure, man.” Perez scribbled something with a gold pen on the inside of an Overton match book he snatched from the bar. “My pager. Hit me day or night and I’ll call back within half an hour.”

Out on the street, Rico took deep breaths of the muggy air, trying to purge the excess cologne and sweat stink from his lungs. A heavy overcast held the heat and damp in, making it feel more like standing just inside an overheated indoor swimming pool, and he didn’t take his time walking to the car. Even the old Caddy’s laboring air conditioning was better than the sweatbox outside.

As he drove back to OCB, taking a roundabout way in case Perez had some of his boys following, Rico pondered just what he was going to say to Castillo. How much he’d let slip about Sonny. Or how he knew his partner hadn’t turned.

Rico knew something about the stress Sonny had been under. Maybe not exactly, but he knew about losing someone you loved and feeling like the department was doing nothing about it. That anger brought him to Miami what seemed like a lifetime ago, posing as a dead man to get payback for his murder. He couldn’t imagine how Sonny had managed to cope as well as he had, or at least look like he was coping. After all, he’d freed the man who murdered his wife and unborn son.

And he kept thinking back to that day by the water. What was it he’d said? “It’s ok, Rico. I’m just going fishing.” Something like that, anyhow. One of those canned Sonny comments aimed at deflecting attention from what was really going on. Only he was going fishing with major players in the Miami drug scene. A trip that turned into a hit, at least according to the smart boys with the microscopes. The day Alejandro Gutierrez made his play and missed.

What had really happened out there on the water? Obviously Sonny had been blown clear, and maybe the shock of the blast had scrambled his head. Stopping for a red light, Rico tapped his fingers absently on the steering wheel. He couldn’t ignore the rumors, either. Of what Sonny had done on his little vacation after Hackman disappeared. He suspected Castillo know. Hell, Castillo knew everything, but Sonny had never said a word to him about it and Rico didn’t ask. Now he wished he had.

The light changed, and he drove on through the night. He pulled into the OCB lot close to midnight, parking away from the front so as not to draw attention to himself. He punched in the code at the back door and buzzed himself in. “Might as well get the buy money request done and a skeleton report,” he muttered as he bopped his way down the hall, his feet dancing to a tune his heart didn’t hear. “Ain’t no way I’m gonna sleep much tonight, anyhow.”

“What do you have for me, detective?”

Shoulda known he’d be here. “Not much, lieutenant. Ran into Gustavo just like we thought and I’ve got him hanging on a possible fifteen key deal. I was just gonna type up the buy money request and a quick report.”

Castillo nodded, and Rico could see his exhaustion in the deep lines on his face. But the eyes were still hot and focused. “How did he sound?”

“Nervous. Sounds like he’s going into business for himself, or wants to. He sure wasn’t wearing no black armband for Miguel Manolo. His plan’s to turn his Columbian contacts into his own organization, but I don’t think he has those Columbians in his pocket like he thinks he does.” Rico smiled. “I’d give him two weeks at most before someone takes him out or adds him to their stable.”

“Who?”

“If I had to bet, I’d take the Carreras. He seems to think they had Manolo taken out. And I don’t know where Narcotics got their intel, but Perez is in no shape to scoop up half of Manolo’s old turf. Hell, he’s gonna have trouble holding what he has. His Columbians contacts might make up half of Manolo’s supply line, but it’s hard to say if he’ll be able to hang onto them once the bidding starts.”

“He said Carrera had Manolo taken out?”

“Not in so may words. But who else is gonna have the weight to make a play like that?”

Castillo stared at him for what seemed like an hour. “Stay on it.”

“You got it, lieutenant. I’ll page him tomorrow.” Rico looked at the wall clock and corrected himself. “I mean later today. Tell him my associates in New York ok’d the deal.”

“Get with Switek for surveillance. If Narcotics is wrong about Perez I want it on tape.”

“You got it.” Rico grinned to cover his disappointment. He’d hoped to work Perez more for information about Sonny, but he knew Stan would never cover for him. And I can’t blame him. Hell, I wouldn’t lift a finger to help the man I held responsible for the death of my partner, either. Assuming he ain’t hung over. If he is, I might be able to get away with some questions.

Four hours of fitful sleep later Rico was back at his desk, showered and wearing a fresh Versaci suit. A carbon copy in his in basket told him the buy money would be ready by that afternoon. Still, he had work to do. Gustavo Perez’s file lay open in front of him, and he nursed a cup of coffee as he flipped through old arrest reports and surveillance logs. This time he was looking for what might have made Narcotics think this chump was in line to take over parking cars for Manolo’s organization, let alone half of the whole operation.

He’d done his time for GTA like he said, with a sentence reduced for good behavior. Not a long enough stretch to give him serious street credit, but long enough to pull him out of the game and make him start over. There was a hint he’d turned informant at some point on the inside, which might explain when he’d built himself up to someone outside OCB as being a big player. Why they’d think a big player would settle for driving boats for the Boroscos before shifting to the Manolo payroll was a question he couldn’t begin to answer.

Still, it was hard to focus. He kept thinking back to what the greaseball had said about Sonny. And how close he’d come to being the same way when he first came to Miami. What bothered him is he knew Sonny. The man always had a purpose in mind. It could be breaking a case, no matter who got run over in the process, or taking out the man who’d murdered his wife. Or letting the same man play him earlier. Hackman had gotten in Sonny’s head, and now Sonny’s cover was in his head just as well. Maybe better. Rico knew what Sonny was like when he focused on something. What was he focused on now?

“Castillo says you need surveillance support.” Stan stood in front of his desk, his eyes still red from the night before.

“Yeah. You up for it?”

“Have I ever not been, Rico?”

“Naw.” He shook his head. “Sorry, Stan. Long night. Anyhow, I still gotta page old Gustavo and see if he’s ready to make a deal. We might go tonight, or it might be a day or two. The chump says he’s got the goods, but I ain’t so sure he does.”

“I’ll be ready whenever you say. You need audio or is this just a photo op?”

“A wire would be good. The lieutenant wants something we can use in court.”

“I’ll put something together. Should be ready by early this afternoon and then good to go whenever you say.”

“Solid. Thanks, Stan.”

“Sure thing.” Stan turned and headed for his desk in the technical support room. There’d been a time when he’d have had some quick Elvis quote or snappy retort, but now he just put his head down and got to work. Rico shook his head and turned back to his own thoughts. Lord knows he’d come in more than a few times feeling the worse for wear from the night before.

Part of him didn’t want to page Perez right away. Better not to look desperate and let the punk stew. But he also knew he didn’t have the luxury of time. Things were happening fast on the streets, and he didn’t want Gustavo to change his mind or find another buyer for whatever he was peddling. But in the back of his mind he also knew he didn’t want his one lead to Sonny to slip away. Punching up the outside line on his phone, Rico keyed in the pager number and hung up. Best to get the ball rolling and finish typing up the plan while he waited for Gustavo to call back.

He was just typing the last line when the blocked line flashed active and his phone jangled for attention. He let it go to six rings before snatching it up. “This better be good.”

“Hey Rico. It’s Gustavo. That thing we were talking about? It’s a go from my people.” The caller ID traced back to a prefix Rico recognized as a pay phone. Perez was careful if nothing else. “What about yours?”

“Solid. When and where?”

“That last place we hung out. At ten tonight. Cool?”

“Solid.” Rico didn’t wait for a reply before hanging up. He was just glad he wouldn’t have to change anything in the plan he’d just typed up. All that was left was filling in the dates.

 

“So it’s a go? Switek included?”

“It is, lieutenant.” In fact Rico hadn’t talked to Switek since that morning. But he figured his requirements were low enough the big guy could meet them out of his spare parts bag. “Ten tonight. I already picked up the buy money, but I might not need it tonight. Depends on what old Gustavo has in mind.”

“Good. Stick to the plan. We need to know where he falls in all this.”

“You got it.” Rico started to turn when Castillo spoke again.

“You may be tempted to ask him about Sonny. Don’t. You might not like what you find.”

“I gotta know, Lieutenant. You and I both know he ain’t in his right mind. Something happened to him on that boat. Put that together with what happened to Caitlin and maybe he just broke. I gotta know.”

“Leave it alone, Rico. That’s an order.”

Rico held his stare for a long time. His own anger matching the intensity in Castillo’s eyes. Finally he just shook his head. “Whatever you say, Lieutenant. I’ll go get Switek and get this chump Perez in the bag.”

Outside the office he stood for a moment, focusing on the air moving in and out of his lungs. Trying to bring his anger back under control. He had to be calm. Focused. If he wanted to get Perez and the information he needed.

It was quiet in the tech room. Rico felt some of his tension drain away, and understood why Stan came here so often. The bigger cop was hunched over the worktable doing something with what looked like a small tape recorder. His red and yellow Hawaiian shirt stretched across his shoulders, reminding Rico of how strong Stan actually was. It was an easy thing to miss with his deep laugh and biting humor. “Hey, Stan. You got the toys ready for tonight?”

“Yeah. Just finishing something for the ladies. They gotta run their own tape until this one’s done.” Stan shook his head. “You think it’ll take long to bag this guy?”

“Depends, man. I think the lieutenant’s more into catch and release. As in get a bead on this goofball and then release him. But if I get a chance to reel him in…”

“Yeah. Why the hell not, right?” Stan grinned and snapped the recorder’s backplate into place. “There. A good four hours of audio goodness. And what did you need for tonight? Still just the usual wire rig and some photos to go?”

“Pretty much. It’s going down at the Overton again.”

“Try to get him outside if you can. That damned place doesn’t record well, and the music sucks. And yeah, I know he ain’t gonna want to go outside so I’ll do the best I can.”

“I appreciate it, Stan.” Rico grinned. “Hey. Maybe we can go get a beer once it’s done. Someplace quiet, maybe?”

Stan grinned, and then something in his face changed. “Yeah. I think I’d like that. Let me drop this off with Gina and we can get you fitted for that wire.”

 

Rico had just settled into a spot at the bar when Gustavo Perez swaggered in, still wearing the same unbuttoned white shirt and too much gold chain. But tonight the confidence looked even more forced, and he kept looking around as he walked to the bar. “Rico Cooper! How’s tricks?”

“Good, Gustavo.” Rico waited until Perez had a tequila. “But I gotta say I am ready to do some business.”

“You an’ me both, brother. Been sittin’ on this product too damned long.”

“You can’t move it yourself?”

“In Miami? Do I look like I have a death wish to you? Naw, man. Everyone who was on Manolo’s payroll is either lookin’ for work or trying to go out on their own. And settling old scores. This is NOT the time I want to draw attention to myself.”

“I thought you controlled half of Manolo’s turf.”

Perez’s eyes went wide with alarm. “You tryin’ to get me killed? Who the hell told you that?”

“Word on the street’s all.”

“Well that word is wrong. Hell, I don’t want an inch of the ground Manolo had. I’m happy with the supply lines and markets out of town. More profit, less risk.”

Rico grinned. “Yeah. I hear you. That’s why I’m here instead of makin’ deals in the Bronx or Queens.”

Perez knocked back his tequila and waved off a second. “Naw, man. Let’s get the deal done. We can have a drink or six to celebrate later. I’d rather get the passenger on its way.”

“Solid.” Rico finished his scotch and left a twenty on the bar.

Perez went first, and his pace slowed as soon as he hit the door.

“What the hell, man? You expectin’ company?”

“You never know, Cooper. Especially these days.” Perez showed white teeth in a grin as he headed for the parking lot. A dude’s gotta…”

Rico noticed the blacked-out Mercedes a second before the rear window hissed down. Bright muzzle flashes blinded him, and the chatter of a sub-machine gun filled his ears with thundering echoes. Perez jerked and twitched as the bullets hit home, the lot lights turning the blood into a red mist surrounding him. Rico dove for cover, scrabbling for the Smith & Wesson at his hip, and then the Mercedes was gone in a squeal of tires.

 

Inside the car, the big man in the rear passenger seat grinned at the man next to him. “You did well,” he said, touching the knee of the shooter with a hand covered with big gold rings. “Tonight you have won the favor of El Gato. And we show those fools what happens when you break with my brother’s organization.”

 

Rico stood well back of the circle of flashing lights, watching the red and blue play across the side of the Overton and the heavy white cloth covering what had been Gustavo Perez. Castillo stood nearby, talking to a pair of Homicide detectives. When he came back his face was set in its usual grim stare. “Homicide’s taking it.”

“Good. We didn’t have shit, anyhow.”

“Was he closing the deal?”

“Yeah. I think so. He was worried, Lieutenant. Like he knew someone was after him.”

Stan came across the lot. “I got some pictures of the car. It didn’t have any plates, and the windows were solid black. I’ll give the lot to Homicide but I don’t think it’s gonna help them much.”

Castillo nodded, looking back over at the two men in tan suits. “It may be their case, but I want to know what this was about. A message or someone dealing with an old score?”

“Could be either. He about flipped when I said word on the street was he was taking over half of Manolo’s old territory.” Rico paused. “And he never mentioned Burnett.” He turned to Stan. “You still want that beer?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. I’ll give the buy money to the lieutenant and we can head out. Bomber’s ok with you?”

“Sure.”

Rico nodded, handing the black gym bag to Castillo. “If it’s ok I’ll write my report in the morning, lieutenant. Stan and I need a drink.” He smiled, trying hide his disappointment that Sonny’s trail had again gone cold. “Maybe more than one.”

[sdiegolo78]

Nice one! I could picture a bearded Rico and I had EJO voice when reading the Castillo dialogue. I don't remember Tubbs drinking scotch in the canon story though...

[Robbie C.]

6 hours ago, sdiegolo78 said:

Nice one! I could picture a bearded Rico and I had EJO voice when reading the Castillo dialogue. I don't remember Tubbs drinking scotch in the canon story though...

They rarely talked about what he drank. Scotch suits him in my view, especially given how his character develops in the Task Force arc. Tubbs was always the sophisticated one, and in the '80s that pretty much meant Scotch of some kind.

[sdiegolo78]

17 hours ago, Robbie C. said:

They rarely talked about what he drank. Scotch suits him in my view, especially given how his character develops in the Task Force arc. Tubbs was always the sophisticated one, and in the '80s that pretty much meant Scotch of some kind.

...as far as I what I recall seeing in the series, he always had water, orange juice or some cocktail...

[Dadrian]

He was too intelligent for beer  

[Robbie C.]

3 hours ago, sdiegolo78 said:

...as far as I what I recall seeing in the series, he always had water, orange juice or some cocktail...

Times change, and the cover changes with it.