“You’ve played before,” Ben said.
“Not at this fine a club, but I generally hit what I aim at. You think sergeants are desk bound, can’t shoot?”
“Night shooting practice is hard to come by on a desk,” Dan said.
“That’s why I don’t pass up a chance. Firing at night’s too critical.”
“Yeah, usually first shot blinds you.”
“We gonna shoot or just talk?” Ben asked.
After twenty minutes, O’Toole paid fifty cents to each. Ben looked at the two quarters in his palm. “Wow, and I thought we’d get rich on Pooh-Bear!”
“There you go trying to think again.”
They proceeded over to the pumps and gassed the vehicle. Dan twisted the cap tight as the radio sounded. “Car 507, Car 507, 3746 Llewelyn, Apartment 410, investigate medical emergency, premature delivery, no rescue units available.”
“That’s ours,” Ben informed the dispatcher, “We’ll make it.”
Arriving Ben grunted, “It’s four stories.”
Crossing the threshold they encountered a circling open centered staircase with landings every five steps. Their narrowness amplified the feeling you were ascending the edge of a cliff overlooking an abyss. On the first step Dan murmured, “Why are all the medicals on the top floor?”
“Murphy’s Law. I wouldn’t trust that banister either.”
Two doors down from the head of the stairs, they found 410. The door, already open a crack, swung wide from Dan’s knock. A woman in her early thirties was poised in a Sumo wrestler stance half way to the door. She paused, turned on the balls of her feet, wobbled like a duck to the couch, and collapsed into it. Between pants, she screamed, “I’m havin’ a baby…” Three loud groans later she finished “…takes me – oh — takes me to the hospital!”
“What’s your name, Ma’am?” Dan asked.
“Ruthanna…Uhhh nooo. Ru-u-thanna Johanson. Everybody just—OHHH, Ohh, Ohhho, there goes one—calls me Sapphire!”
“Sapphire, has your water broken?”
“We gots to go.”
“How far apar…”
“Oh Lordy, Gets me….. ohhhhh, oh pleeeease….gets me a goin’!”
“How far apart are your pains, ma’am?”
“Fast!”
“How fast? Ten min…”
“Ten minutes! Shoooo man! Da’s fas’ enough. We gotta be goin’, now.”
“Has your water broke?”
“Not yet.” she said groaning and panting.
“Where’s the father?”
“Heavens oooonlys knows, ain’t seen Abraham for six months,” she blurted out between groans. “Ain’t you goin’s t’ take me?”
“Is this your first baby?”
“Yeh! Yeh! Can we goes now? I’s havin’s child!”
“I understand Sapphire, but we’re not medically equipped. We’re not paramedics and none are available right now. We have no stretcher.”
“But, da child, be comin’ NOW!”
“Your water hasn’t broken, and this is your first. It’s best we wait for the paramedics.”
“Tells da child. He’s da one nots waitin’. Y’us got a polices car, don’t y’u?”
“Of course, but, ma’am, its four flights down THOSE stairs!”
“Well, bells of fire,” she sputtered rising into a stoop. “Y’u ’ns as worthless as that no ’count Daddy. No more talk!” Waddling toward the door she insisted, “I’m goin’ now! Wit’ y’us or not?”
“Sapphire,” Ben pleaded, “That’s a lot of narrow steps!”
“I’ll gets down ’em and still give da Devil ’is do. Y’us just drives me to da General.” She grabbed her overnight bag and shuffled down the hall to the stairs.
“What we gonna do?” a nervous Dan asked Ben who shruged his shoulders.
Reaching the top step, Ruthanna looked back at the officers. “What y’us waitin’ f’r? Sure ’n fire can’t be waitin’ fir y’us all night! Ohhhhhhh! There’s ‘nother one!” She dropped to her knees leaning against the shaky banister.
“Let’s get her out of here!” Ben exclaimed rushing to her. Taking her right arm, he slowly descended the steps backwards while Dan brought up the rear bracing her left. Ruthanna positioned and supported between them, backs to the wall, they slowly side-stepped down the stairs one at a time. On the first landing Sapphire’s knees doubled up as another contraction rippled her. With a loud moan she collapsed on the stairway and Ben felt an unanticipated wetness soaking his left shoe. Looking down, his worst fear loomed before him. Her water had broken!
Dan stood bent at the waist, straddling two steps and holding Ruthanna’s arm. His position privileged him to see Ben’s facial expression throughout the “foot washing.” However, Dan didn’t put it together until Ben moved with a ‘squish’ and announced, “Her water broke!”
Ruthanna regained her squatting stance. Another spasm turned her limbs to Slinkys. Down she went in a sprawl. Ben knelt precariously on the step’s edges, “Just keep calm Sapphire, one step at a time.”
“LOOORRDEEE, OHHH, LORD-EE!” She trumpeted her knees almost tumbling Ben. The child burst into its new world.
Ben’s stance positioned him to intercept the baby which otherwise would have slid down the stairs. Acting instinctively, he supported the newborn in his arms checking for air passage obstructions. The child sucked on Ben’s finger. When he withdrew his hand, the baby cried. Mother Ruthanna heard the child and burst forth laughing and crying alternatively. Dan cheered.
The surreal drama had drawn several people out of their apartments. The intensity of what they witnessed froze them in the moment. The laughter broke the tension and they applauded laughing and crying in empathy.
“Outdoor plumbing!” Ben shouted.
Ben regained his composure carefully conveying the child to Ruthanna who cradled him in her arms. He looked up at Dan, and barked, “If you can stop howlin’, go find a sturdy chair and some clean towels!”
One of the bystanders responded, “I got one.”
“Is it a strait back?”
“Is that important?”
“Yes, it’s for a chair lift.”
“What do we tie the cord off with?” Ben asked Dan.
“Nothing. It’ll wait ‘till we get to the hospital.”
The neighbors returned. One had a sturdy oak chair. Others offered towels.
Dan squeezed the back of the chair onto the steps between the banister and mother, while Ben helped her wrap the newborn in a blue bath towel. With the officers’ help, Ruthanna cradling the child scooted onto the chair. Ben gripped the chair’s legs. Dan took a firm hold on the back of the chair by the seat. Tilted, the back laid against his chest and his arms restrained the patient. Tediously they worked mother and child down the remaining stairs. Ben’s every step squished as he went. Onlookers followed single file like a bunny-hop train dance.
Painstakingly the patients were transferred to the rear seat of the cruiser, and the owner reclaimed his chair. Closing the rear door Dan said, “I’ll drive. You clean up.” He wasted no time getting behind the wheel. Dan radioed ahead to the hospital as the car sped off, lights flashing, siren whaling.
Ben was seated, shoe removed, patting at his wet foot with a donated towel. He quickly gave up on his foot and hopelessly tried to clean the blood from his hands, forearms and uniform.
“I thought you said this was your first baby,” Dan shouted back to Ruthanna loud enough to overcome the siren. “Came awful fast?”
“Not my FIRST baby. This ’n’s number six. It’s first one for me an’ Abraham. M’ other child’ens gots different daddies. M’ sister took ’em wit’ her, when I called y’us.”
“Ohhh!” Dan gulped. No more questions. These histories just confuse me more. Drive, mind my own business.
They arrived quickly at the hospital. The staff met them with a gurney, and nurses wheeled Ruthanna away. She stopped them at the door calling back, “What’s your names?”
/> “Black and White.”
“No, y’ur first names. Can’t be callin’ m’ child Black White Johanson!”
“That’s Big Ben,” Dan said.
“And, this here’s Preacher man Dan,” Ben added.
She motioned for the nurses to continue. “Benjamin Daniel Johanson,” she said to the new born.
On the way to their cruiser, Dan complained, “How come you get first billing? What’s wrong with Daniel Benjamin?”
“Cause I did all the work, and she knows it.”
“Bet my pay check her opinion differs!”
“Your foot go squishy-squish? Mine does. Get over it!”
Opening the patrol car door, Ben paused holding out his arms. “Look at this mess.”
“Yep, you’re a bloody mess. Alistia gonna think the cop thing’s a cover for a butcher shop job.”
“Alistia isn’t ever gonna see this shirt.”
They rode a few minutes in silence before Ben reflected, “Sure in a hurry to get in this cruel world. Too young to know better, I reckon.”
“Well Ben, on the time of our coming we really have no say; and refusing suicide, little on the going out, either.” He paused as the newspaper delivery truck flagged him over. He pulled beside it.
“Morning Greg,” Ben greeted.
“Peaceful night?” he asked handing a couple papers to Ben.
“A fun one, thanks.”
Seeing Ben’s arms Greg’s eyes widened.
Dan pulled away. “And I might add, if there’s a God, we cannot leave one moment sooner than He decides.”
“When you get down to the bone, we don’t have much choice in anything. Do we?”
“Well, during our allotted time we’re left to make choices: good, bad, hard, easy, the indifferent flip of a coin. Problem is the good ones are hardest and scarcest. I, for one, think the world could use some help?”
“But, who you gonna trust? Look at all the people claiming to have the answers; all different.”
“Yep, but makes sense to me; whoever put it together left instructions.”
“Scrathin’ that itch again? Everybody got a theory. With all the different religions, which one’s got it right?”
“Not sure it matters. What if I read it for myself? I’m not the smartest bear in the woods, but I managed an engineering degree. Can’t be that complicated, can it?”
“Now there’s a novel idea. Let me know what you find out.”
They fell silent for a few minutes and then Dan said solemnly, “Want to ask you something personal, serious like, if you don’t mind.”
“What?”
“Well it’s real personal. Don’t have to answer if you don’t want.”
“What?”
“Well, I’m kind of wondering…never mind. It’s way too personal.”
“Out with it! WHAT?
“Well as old as you are and all…I was wonderin’,” Dan paused. Ben stared at him in anticipation. The silence itself shouted “WHAT?”
“I was wonderin’, Partner,… this your first step-child?”
Ben ignored the remark and Dan parked chuckling. As they came through the door the squad was forming for dismissal.
“Fall In! Let’s go home,” barked Sergeant Fleischer.
Ben joined the line in his ruined uniform which stopped the proceedings while Dan related an exaggerated account. Ten minutes later the line straightened and the sergeant moved down it collecting paperwork. When he came to the end of the line, he smiled at the Duo. “Ben, I’ll write the paper tomorrow for reissue. You two sure do have a picnic out there, don’t you?”
“Yes, Sir, every night,” Ben answered.
What a proposition. Why shouldn’t we have a picnic?” Dan thought.
“Heard Dan had a visit from Snoopy tonight,” Fleischer smirked.
“Yes, Sir, he saved him from the Barron,” Jansen laughed.
Dan looked at Ben, “How’d that make the rounds already?”
“Get Snoopy Dog straightened out, did you?” Fleischer asked rhetorically as he side-stepped to Follert, “By the way, war aces didn’t have pilot licenses.”
The squad inharmoniously broke out singing, “Hang on Snoopy, Snoopy hang on…”
“That’ll do! You’ll make my ears bleed,” Fleischer interrupted. “We do want to go home, don’t we?” The question restored order. “You two get Lieutenant Hess any parkers?”
“Parkers?” Ben and Dan asked each other. “Was it our night for parkers?”
“He emphatically instructed me, ‘check their parkers’.”
“Serge, we got two felonies: one a drugs distribution felony,” Dan replied. “Ben took time out for a mid-wife class. Only got eight hours.”
“Any parkers?”
“Tell him! We want to go home,” yelled a couple other officers.
“Eleven,” Ben answered. “Okay?”
Fleischer took the paperwork from them, and snapped, “Dis-missed!”
Dan, Ben, and Gary left together splitting off in the parking lot like a Blue Angels fly by. “I’ll be home in bed before either of you,” Gary quipped.
The clock at the door stipulated Dan’s route home. Ten after- the longest. At home he would lay aside his badge and gun. The quest Dan could never lay aside.
Chapter Six
Must It Make Sense?
Dan undressed and slipped into a pair of short, cotton pajamas. He lazily swayed on the “zoo’s” swing nursing three ounces of Cabernet. Trouble curled in his lap content as Dan stroked him.
Broke even tonight against the Evil One, Whatever its worth, for He is content to linger in the wings of tomorrow.
Trouble scampered across the end table, jumped on the floor-lamp’s post, and tried to climb it. He slid to base, tumbled head over tail, and then ran off chasing a weasel ball erratically around the room.
“A little mishap beset you my fur ball friend? thing I screwed it to the floor!” You don’t have to be a frisky ferret to be susceptible to mishap. The ogre of crime is a master at coercing indiscretions into tragedy. Readily energizing bar fights, hooker’s hustles, domestics, robberies, desperate addicts. Any and all, turn deadly in a breath.
Trouble abandoned the ball to climb the outside of his cage and ascend the window screen. “Not the windows!” Dan yelled. Trouble’s claws dug in as he froze in place at Dan’s hurried rising. He plucked Trouble from the screen. “You know the penalty!” he scolded placing him in the small cage without access to the play area.
The spinning ceiling fan stirred stale musk laden air. So, Dan opened the windows before returning to the swing. As he sipped the wine, fresh morning air seeped inward.
I’m torn between a God in control, and a world falling apart! Affliction lurks in the shadows, pouncing at will on mankind. Is God distracted with other worlds? Where’s the hope in that? How can evil be master over the Supreme’s creation? So many mysteries, so few answers. Must life make sense?
Dan went to his bedroom and reclined against a wedge pillow. There must be a balance between depravity and hope. The light seeped passed the curled blind’s edge. Those useless old shades! One beam fell across his Dad’s Bible on the dresser. Oh yes, Pop, I still hear you promising, all the answers are in the ‘Manual.’ I’m reading it. There is much wisdom, but answers of my purpose are not apparent. I have not forgotten YOUR God didn’t protect you! Your promises do not erase the scars. They have failed everyone I have dared to love! But, Benjamin Daniel Johanson—now there’s promise!
However, even this feeling of joy was dampened by expectations of a dismal future. Would Benjamin Daniel Johanson someday be president, win the Nobel Prize, cure tragic diseases, or will darkness draw him into vice?Maybe he’ll prevent more suffering than he’ll cause. He will—he must grab goodness with the resolve of a clenched fist.
If every night brought such promise, Dan would feel his time well spent. Benjamin Daniel owned a heart not yet tainted by the world. Dan wanted to believe in him. The ambience foun
d in the innocence of birth took Dan to his childhood. Drawing water from his grandfather’s well, he drank from a bent tin dipper. The clear, cool, crisp potion refreshed his weariness on those hot summer days.
I‘ll see to it! I will give Daniel Johanson the‘Handbook.’ He smiled. Sounds better when I leave Ben off. sensed a moment’s silence, then in emphatic: Why stop with him? Indeed, the bigger the sample the more valid the test.
Chapter Seven
Full Moon Nights
When Dan reported to work he went in the station, retrieved the keys for his cruiser, and returned to his Corvette. Opening the trunk he was wrestling a duffel-bag out as his partner pulled in next to him. Once the duffel was clear, Ben asked, “Need a hand, Partner?”
“I got it, NOW!” Dan lugged the bag to the cruiser and stowed it in the trunk.
Ben waited for his partner by the rear stoop snorting at an occasional whiff of the nearby dumpster.
“Evening, Ben.” Dan greeted walking past him.
“I wait next to this cesspool and you’re not tellin’ me what’s goin’ down?” Ben challenged.
“Overwhelmed by your help,” Dan replied entering the building. He passed Castleman at a table sharpening his pocket knife, “Nice knife.” Ben trailed him to his locker. “It’s my lunch bag,” Dan informed.
“Uh-huh, that’s it? Lunch bag!”
“Don’t worry, brought enough for you.”
“Thanks, but I’m still worried.”
“Fall In!” The command echoed through the lockers.
The invitation of uncertainty promised nothing as equally as everything. Sergeant O’Toole’s “tallyho” snatched the milling officers into a rigid line. What awaited them in the dark streets, cluttered alleys, and dens of iniquity while the city slept—none but God knew? Would it be a pat on the shoulder or a bullet in the back? They didn’t waste time thinking about it. Their families did that. “Mommy, will Daddy come home?” Would only a piece of Daddy erode on this watch? Or would Daddy be lost?
Even Sergeant O’Toole was apathetic resulting in tradition prevailing over purpose in a curt inspection. In short time officers gathered around the briefing tables. Before they were half seated, O’Toole began.
Game of the Blues Page 11
