Game of the Blues

by Kenn C. Kincaid

  “First up, a Chief’s directive; don’t leave your cruisers unlocked. Second, too many tickets are kicking back. Get them right the first time. As for the BOLOs, not much here. Wanted for Defrauding a Vehicle for Hire and Robbery, male black or Hispanic, tall thin and dark complexion. Also, for robbery on Calhoun three males, 16-20, medium build, fled in small white vehicle.

  “C’mon Serge, you’re wasting our coffee time. If they were my brothers, I wouldn’t know.” Harkins murmured.

  “It’s the wants. Not my fault crimes have useless descriptions. I give you what’s there. It’s your job to make something out of it. He then read with unconcerned effort several more vague bulletins, and ended with, “If you corner, ‘Some Dude,’ haul him in.”

  “Okay, wake up now!” Sergeant Fleischer snapped responding to O’Toole’s nod, “New hot-lists. During slumps, check a few plates.” He tossed copies on the table prompting sarcasm as they went around.

  “A-TEN-TION!” Came a shout from the front lobby.

  Within moments, a black officer in his early fifties, five foot ten, and 175 pounds with a bur cut entered the briefing room. Captain Cornelius Kirk, the District Commander, seldom frowned, yet was known for his no nonsense approach. He was the anti-thesis of Lieutenant Hess and came up through the ranks. Peers and charges alike considered him capable. Unlike most commanders who were rarely seen after sunset, Kirk participated in briefings regularly. He was proud to be part of the Police Division. As the District Commander, he was careful to bolster the police image and thus mindful to praise his officers in public while chastising in private. He majored on getting the job done, keeping it legal, and minored on details. Respected by all, Kirk had a reputation for backing his men.

  “As you were,” he barked entering the room.

  Kirk took a seat in the corner. The officers put on their “captain’s come to meeting manners.”

  Fleischer, cleared his throat and continued, “Saved this for last. It’s not so vague. Wanted for Breaking and Entry, Defrauding a Vehicle for Hire and Robbery is a male, possibly Mexican or Puerto Rican, forty-ish, five foot six, hundred twenty-five, long black hair, cut off jeans, T-shirt, and a Yankee’s cap.

  “He’s believed to have stolen a small safe, from the Dew Drop Inn. He flagged a cab, was transported to 4512 Victor Street, and couldn’t pay. The suspect offered the contents of the safe to the driver, but efforts to open it failed. He then brandished a knife, robbed the cabbie, and fled. The cabbie reported the robbery making no mention of the safe until the officers saw it.” With the wave of his hand to the lieutenant he ended, “Honesty prevails again!”

  “Burglaries are down from last year,” Hess began a statistical evaluation of relief goals. “Robberies are equivalent, and misdemeanor arrests are up due to DUI emphasis. Felony crime is up eleven percent yet the arrests are down five. Movers can always use effort.”

  Then glaring at Dan and Ben, Hess said. “Some parking improvement is noted from last week, but it’s inadequate.”

  OH, you’re gonna get parkers all right!

  Before Hess could go further, Kirk stood and interrupted, “That’s a fine outline of the objectives, Lieutenant. I’m sure the men are motivated to meet them. However, I didn’t come to talk stats, so I’m going to pull rank. Have my say.”

  “Yes, Sir,” acknowledged Hess stepping back from the table.

  Kirk did not move into the space, but spoke from where he stood making eye contact with each officer. “I know you have heard the complaints Internal’s investigating in District Four. I’ve read the forms. It is a fully justified use of force. We’ve had some criticism recently from those do-goody-head-up-their-butts self-appointed oversight panels. We have fine street officers and you can be sure I.A. can clear it up.

  “My concern is one of you might let it cause you hesitation. Men, hesitations out there,” he pointed to the door, “will get you DEAD! Someone gives you good cause to use this,” he brought his arm up from behind him thrusting a Porter night stick into the air like a band major. “I said if you have GOOD cause!” Kirk brought the stick down on the table top creating a loud ‘WHACK!’ The officers recoiled. “Then use it! You be right and I’ll be backing you! There won’t be any hesitating, right?”

  “No, Sir!” the men shouted.

  “Some low-life threatens you, what y’u gonna do?”

  “STICK HIM!”

  “And if you got to stick ‘im…” he thrusting the stick upward bringing his left hand’s encircling fingers down from the top of the mast stopping at the hilt “…stick ‘im up to here!” A hush fell lasting a few seconds, then he calmly said “All right, go crush the crap out of crime, and don’t get any on you. It’s all yours, Lieutenant,” he said briskly retreating. As Kirk passed through the lobby, “Beam me up Scotty,” echoed down the hallway with the closing of the station door.

  “Now about the parkers,” Hess said pausing to look at Dan and Ben.

  “Trust us. You’re getting parkers,” Dan said.

  “Yes, your effort has been noted. The Chief’s Office called. He had a visit from Father Joseph Gilligan. Seems you two managed to tow the parish station wagon…”

  Laughter drowned Hess out. He scowled waiting for a lull. “He’s expecting a good explanation. SO AM I. Right after roll call.”

  “It was an OTP,” Dan defended.

  Hess moved on to his new crime fighting aid. “Men, technology is making our job easier. I’ve entered the crime stats in a computer and generated this Robbery Probability Report. There’s a copy for everyone,” he said laying papers on the end of the table.

  Dan didn’t consider himself computer literate, but wasn’t ignorant either. He listened to Hess but did not hear. Oh great! Now he’s into computers.

  “Computers are the wave of the future.”

  Yeah, yeah, yeah, street cops are perceived by the paper shufflin’ brass-hats as slow and incompetent.

  “Robbery Squad compiled the last six month’s offenses. The composite trends are shown for our area.”

  A perfect gadget for you. It depends on man’s thinking in order to do man’s thinking. It ain’t gonna help you!

  “This report highlights probable robbery targets.”

  Garbage in. Garbage out! “Sir,” interrupted Dan, “what stats is this report based on?”

  “The Robbery Task Force compiled city data according to my parameters.”

  “Excuse me, but how’s city wide trends, going to predict District Five incidents?”

  “Officer Black, do you have a programming background?”

  “No sir, I’m just trying to determine the value of the conclusions.”

  “Value? Do you even own a computer?”

  “Not yet, I’m waiting for them to prove their worth before I fork out the dough.”

  Ben poked Dan whispering, “Shut up, fool. We’re in deep enough.”

  “I don’t see you as much of an authority then,” Hess said. “So please don’t waste our time with what you don’t know.”

  “Yes, Sir.” Your hunger for success deludes you to quench your thirst with saltwater.

  “Well sir, I’m anxious to learn,” Gary said. “This statement on page two; is saying the most probable location for a robbery is a Dairy Queen at 0-200 hours? Sir - uh - we don’t have any Dairy Queens?”

  “We have some ‘queens’ up on the hill at the Lazy ‘Loins’ Club,” Reynolds injected.

  “All the DQ’s close at 2300 hours,” Fleischer said entering the briefing at the end of the discussion.

  Hess glowered at Fleischer. “We have King-Kwiks. They’re number three for you flatfoots who can’t read. They’re open all night, and they’ve been hit hard!”

  Fleischer turned away from the lieutenant and mouthed, “OOPS”, then took a chair off to the side.

  “I don’t need a ‘comp-u-tator’ to tell me all-night markets are a robbery risk,” Dan said.

  “Stow it, stupid,” Ben whispered again.

 
Hess ignored Dan. “The R-P-R puts them at high risk between 0-300 and 0-430 hours. That means we’re going to give them extra patrol. 507, 515, 508, and 501, note it on your log sheets.”

  “Lieutenant, considering your report, I’ll volunteer to stake one out,” Martin said.

  “There are four King-Kwiks in our area. We barely have the manpower to sit on one. Choose one, the others get neglected. My way is better. But, I appreciate your initiative, Officer Martin.”

  A couple officers sneered across the table at Martin, “Appreciate your interest, cherry picker!”

  “Run ’r through ag’in, Lieutenant,” Willie Clemmons said. “Find out which one they gonna hit.”

  “Willie!” Reynolds responded in surprise. Clemmons was routinely reserved and mousey. “There’s a sign; even Willie ’s stirred.”

  “Yeah, if it’s any good,” Gary added. “I’ll bet my next detail check it kicks out West Fork Stop-N-Go. Be worth sitting on. Quick getaway to I-74.”

  Hess frowned sensing an insincerity in Gary’s voice, although, it could’ve been the paper airplane sailing past his head. It missed, but the look Hess gave Dan would melt marble.

  Dan displayed his best poker face. This could cost me more days. Naw, he didn’t see me.

  “Anything else?” Hess asked without waiting for a reply, “Dismissed! Hit the streets! Black, you and White, in my office!”

  Augh! He did see it!

  “Yes, Sir,” they answered.

  On the way Ben griped at Dan, “Enjoy you getting my butt chewed right off the line. Do help motivate me the rest of the shift.”

  “Anytime. I’m here for you. Besides I thought Lieu’s report flew well.”

  Lieutenant Hess’ door was open, and they entered. He stood peering out the window ignoring them for several minutes. “Simple question,” he began in a friendlier than usual tone still looking out the window. “Why’d you put the hook to the parish station wagon?”

  “It was an O-T-P,” Dan responded. “Have to take them where we find them. Can’t make ’em up.”

  Hess turned to face Dan. His expressionless face looked tired.

  “I appreciate your efforts to comply with my orders, but towing Father Gilligan’s car? That’s going too far. Did you know he baptized the captain’s whole family?”

  “No, Sir,” came the joint reply.

  “The priest’s car, for God’s sake!” Hess said banging his fist on the desktop.

  “God has nothing to do with it,” snorted Dan. “And, no, you didn’t order us to tow the priest’s car. But then, you didn’t tell us not to. We just enforce the violations. Our cruiser isn’t equipped with a crystal ball. We can’t pick and choose …”

  “Procedures, procedures! You are supposed to query the plate. When it came back registered to ‘Saint Bonifice Brotherhood’, it ought to have rung bells, if the belfries weren’t empty!”

  “You telling us to show a bias based on religion?”

  “You two knew exactly what you were doing—calculated—very calculated. Now it’s come back to haunt you. I want a Form Seventeen right away. You explain it to the Chief. And keep me out of it, or you’ll be a foot patrol on the floodwall. You get the drift?”

  “Yes, Sir,” they replied.

  “If common sense were gunpowder you two wouldn’t have enough to pop a cap!”

  “Sir, are you ordering us not to enforce a particular section of the traffic code?” Dan baited.

  “Of course not! I am telling you to get your parkers like everybody else, and not to enforce, let alone tow, O-T-Ps unless you have a specific complainant. Understand: a specific complainant?”

  “Yes, Sir.” With sardonic smiles and a military snap they turned toward the door.

  “I have not dismissed you! Get back here!”

  They returned to the front of the desk without the snap. Hess waited, looking out the window. At his pleasure, he turned back to them.

  “You WILL get your parkers some other way, so the backwash doesn’t come across my desk!”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Have the Form Seventeen on my desk before morning. Now go do some serious police work. Do something worthwhile; like a good felony robbery arrest. Dismissed!”

  “We don’t have time for felonies. We’re doing parkers and doors,” Dan said.

  “That’s borderline. Watch yourself. You are dismissed.”

  They turned to depart. Ben went out ahead of Dan. At the door Dan stopped and faced the lieutenant, “Suppose Widow Tolson would agree on the value of parkers?”

  “YOU are dismissed.”

  Before the echo fell silent, they retrieved their war bags and were out the back door.

  Chapter Eight

  Canines, Crazies, and Clowns

  “If they left it on empty again, I swear, I’ll pick their lockers and fill their hats with cottage cheese,” Ben said. “I might have to pick up their slack, but I don’t have to like it.”

  “Sounds like something I’d do,” Dan laughed.

  Their beat car was near the stoop. Twice this month the previous relief failed to gas it. Dan and Ben stored their gear, and were seated in the car before Dan spoke again. “Did Hess seem a bit friendlier than usual tonight?”

  Ben turned the ignition and the engine came to life. The fuel gage read “Three-quarters.” Putting it in reverse he asked, “What about Hess?”

  “He didn’t shout as much. Maybe he’s being cagey. You think he knows I tossed the airplane?”

  “Based on our last parley, No!”

  On the way out of the parking lot Gary Follert waved them over. “You guys up for Box Town after your consultation?”

  “Always,” Dan replied. “If it gets busy, it may take two cars.”

  Ben waited behind the wheel. Dan slid out and accepted a square cardboard box. He wrestled it past the prisoner screen onto the back seat, and they were quickly en route.

  “Partner, did you notice the similarity between Hess’ plan and our stake-out request last week?” Dan asked.

  “Matter of fact. Milton warned us I-74 would get hit this week.”

  “Is it a coincidence Hess turned it down ‘cause our snitch is ‘untested’ and tonight comes up with this R-P-R?”

  “Was it Shakespeare who said, ‘Something smells of fish’?”

  “Don’t try to be literate. It doesn’t work for you.”

  “Okay, it’s fishy!”

  Box Town visits began five years ago, after Gary was assigned his beat. The railroad yard under the Hopple Street Viaduct became his responsibility, including the hobos and other homeless camped there. The viaduct overhead spared the cardboard city from most of the rain. Delivery drivers from nearby warehouses discarded large appliance boxes, and the inhabitants appropriated them as needed. The boxes offered protection from wind and kept the dew off. Although dampness destroyed the boxes’ rigidity in a week, they procured a new one and discarded the old on the campfire.

  They did their best to live off the land and handouts. The citizens of Box Town policed their own closely and evicted the true scoundrels and violent. Whether by nature or preference, they kept to themselves. Occasionally pressed by some privation, some occasionally migrated into the nearby city committing a crime of chance.

  After several dealings with the Box Town people, Gary approached Dan asking for advice. “I arrested one of those box campers under the viaduct for stealing food. The mini-market manager wouldn’t let me pay for it and demanded prosecution. Then he’s a no-show in court. I’m spinning my wheels. You have any ideas how to turn such a handicap into a resource?”

  “Not off hand, but the way Ben and I got a handle on the housing area was walkin’ and talkin’. Get to know ’em, develop rapport. Not all of ’em are deadbeats, I’ll bet.”

  “You know Mr. Free, the guy I was telling you about, he was grateful. Thought I got him off the hook. He said if he could repay, to let him know. What’s a homeless bum gonna do for me?”

  “Cooperat
ion and information, maybe?”

  “Walkin’ and talkin’ makes some sense. Since they seem to always need food, what if we could get something together for them ever so often?”

  “We could work it a couple nights a month. See what comes of it.”

  It wasn’t rigidly scheduled but a couple times on the Night Run they managed to drop in. Williams and Vaught carried it over from the following relief, but the other relief had no volunteers.

  When Dan and Ben arrived at Box Town, Gary stood at the fire talking with Mister Burl. Two dozen men and women were in the camp. It was seldom they encountered anyone under eighteen. Burl, the camp king, officiated with a scepter called the Dragon’s Tooth: a polished fang shaped root crowned with lion’s head carving. He settled all disputes in camp, and his word was law.

  “Good evening, Mister Burl, how goes things in camp?” Dan asked.

  “’Tis fair to midlin,” he replied then turning he waved his scepter in an arching motion and spoke to the inhabitants. “Perk Ye ears Ye ‘road-dawgs’. These ‘white tops’ get glad handed in this camp. They be ‘true-dos’, and ‘overstands’ y’ur lot.”

  “Mister Burl, you’re a mystery to me,” Dan said. “You have savvy, you have means, and you could easily live a normal life?”

  “Oh, but I do.”

  “Well, it’s still a mystery to me.”

  “It’d be no mystery, if’n you’d chosen to chase rails at nineteen. Back then no-one hassled y’u. A Bo-chaser ‘d run y’u, but not wit’ anger. Could jump a ballin’ jack, top, bottom or inside. Find a ‘pay-house’ or ‘pogey’ along the tracks anytime, for a meal. I’ve been sea to sea chasin’ m’ giggles, and eyeballed it all with ne’r want for more. I’d not trade f’r y’ur treasures neither.”

  “Can’t argue against what I don’t understand, but those days are gone. Aren’t they?”

  “Indeed, countries changed. Barrel houses be scarce and the ‘yeggs’ ’re many. Violence binds the hearts of the common people, and fear closed their doors to us. It’s only been in the last few years my kind‘ve known want and hunger. Your visits are an open boxcar on a cold day.”