Game of the Blues

by Kenn C. Kincaid

  “Looking at your tummy, you might want to run up them.”

  “Me!”

  They arrived back on the second floor. Again they found no disturbance. At the door with a brass “3”, Dan tapped gently with the nightstick. He didn’t want to wake anyone else, so he spoke softly, “It’s the police. Did you call?”

  The response was a rustling from behind the door drawing their attention to a sheet of aluminum foil sliding out under it. “Sign in with your badge,” whispered a voice behind the door.

  Gary joined them at the top of the stairs in time to see the foil flapping under the door. They exchanged questioning glances. “What’s up? I’ve checked a radius of two blocks. Didn’t see anybody.”

  Dan pointed to the sheet of aluminum. Gary shrugged his shoulders with raised eyebrows. It disappeared back through the crack.

  “Car 508,” beckoned the radio.

  “508,” Ben answered.

  “Complainant on the phone again. Says they’re trying to break the door down.”

  “Tell him it’s us!”

  They waited in silence.

  “Says, he doesn’t believe it’s the police, because they won’t sign in?”

  Now hearing a hissing they looked down to see mist coming through the bottom door crack.

  “What’s he doing now?” Dan asked.

  “Smells like bug spray to me,” Ben answered.

  Dan keyed his mike, “508,You still have him on the phone?”

  “Affirmative.”

  “Tell him to put his bug spray away and open the door.”

  The hissing stopped, and the foil reappeared as the radio broke in, “He says he wants proof you’re the police.”

  Dan unpinned his badge, bent down and made an impression of it in the foil. “There,” he said disgustedly, “I signed in. Now open your door.” The foil retracted and seconds later the bolt turned.

  The door opened a crack as the man peeked out, then he quickly open it half way guarding the opening. “Come in, quick. They’ll sneak in behind you.”

  As the officers stepped in, the occupant waved a yard’s length of foil behind them in the hallway as if shooing flies. Closing the door, he shoved it in the threshold crack. They were greeted with windows and doors covered with aluminum foil. Foil hung in narrow strips from the ceiling, on furniture, and covered baseboards. The occupant, a gaunt elderly six-foot man, wore plain white linen pajamas. His chest was wrapped in foil, as were his upper arms and thighs banded. The aluminum foil turban made it hard to keep a professional front.

  “Sir, what’s your name?” Dan began.

  “I can’t tell you. They might hear it.”

  “What name do I put on the official log sheet?” Dan whispered.

  Putting his fingers to his lips, he took the pen and wrote “Craig Birdman,” on Dan’s pad.

  “Tell us about the prowler.”

  “It’s the Gamensoots,” he said seriously speaking slowly and distinctly. “They want to take me back. I told them I like it here. I don’t want to go.”

  “And where is it they want to take you?”

  “Back to Zormetts, It’s the fillings in my teeth.” Birdman opened his mouth to point to the fillings. “Down here we use gold. Back there they trade amalgamates.”

  “How long have you had this problem?”

  “They started coming last year.”

  Ben slipped into the bath, bedroom, and kitchen to check for medications, while Dan carried on the conversation. When Ben came out he indicated nothing unusual. Dan, being senior on the run, would have to make the call. Did the man pose a danger to himself or others? If so the law provided for a hospital evaluation. However, no sign of violent behavior existed, only irrational hallucinations.

  “Seems you have everything under control. I think they’re scared off for the night.” Dan said stepping toward the door.

  “No, NO! You can’t go! They’ll come back out.”

  “You’re doin’ a fine job keepin’ them away. Just keep up the good work.”

  “This only irritates them,” Birdman said holding up the roach spray. “It’s like your tear-gas. Once they’re in, they’re hard to see. Got to catch their reflection in the foil.”

  “I know,” Gary chimed in. “They chased me around last year, but I outsmarted ’em.”

  “How’d you do it?” Birdman asked attentively.

  “Yeah,” Dan said, “Tell us, we’re anxious to learn.”

  “Well, uh, uh…”

  “We’re all ears,” Ben coached. “Tell us, so we can help Mr. Birdman.”

  Finally Gary said, “I snuck over to the professor’s when they weren’t around. He knows all about Gamensoots, and Zelenboots, and the Gorbbucons. Had to stay with him a couple days but he fixed it so none of ’em want anything to do with me.”

  “I can understand that,” Ben quipped.

  “What’d he do?” Birdman asked excitedly.

  “Don’t know. He’s the scientist. But, I know it only works on people who are good and don’t want to hurt anybody. If that’s you? Possibly we could go see him.”

  “Will you take me, Officer?” the man asked like a child begging parents to go to Disneyland.

  “Well it’s late.” Gary pointed at his watch. “But if we hurry, I think we can catch him. Grab your robe.”

  You sly Devil. I need to remember you can be clever, thought.

  The man hurried into the bedroom, and returned one arm in the robe’s sleeve, the other searching. Gary opened the door and stepped into the hall with Birdman. Dan and Ben followed. Ben turned to lock the door, and the owner yelled, “Wait!” He disappeared into the room returning with a large streamer of foil trailing behind him. “Just in case.”

  Finally, Ben secured the door and gave the keys to Gary to hold. Birdman hurried outside. At the cruiser, Gary patted him down. “Makin’ sure no Gamensoots are hanging on you.”

  “Oh, thank you. Sneaky aren’t they?”

  After Mr. Birdman was seated in the rear, Gary turned to Ben. “You guys follow me up to State. Don’t expect any trouble, but you never know.”

  “Got you covered, and we’ll radio ahead for you.”

  Gary arrived without incident, and Mr. Birdman hurried into the hospital Receiving Room. His flapping robe exposed the bands, and his head still bore the turban. The nurse looked up and Gary spoke first. “This is Mr. Birdman, he’s having trouble with those pesky Gamensoots. Thought maybe the professor could help him out.”

  “I believe you are in luck. He’s still here.”

  The patient voluntarily checked himself in for observation without difficulty. Outside Dan patted Gary on the back. “That may not be the most kosher Medical Hold, but it beats having to fight them.”

  Gary opened his cruiser’s door and as soon as he sat, Ben yelled, “Gary, watch out! Behind you!”

  Gary rolled out of the seat. His reflexes sent his hand to his holster. However, not seeing a threat he asked, “What?”

  “One of them Canonspots,” was about to get you,” Ben laughed.

  “They’re Gamensoots! And I told you, I’m immune to ’em. But you better watch out. They’re real.” He laughed diabolically sliding into his cruiser.

  The Duo cut through the Clifton neighborhood en route from the hospital to their beat. “This area is such a smorgasbord of eccentric people, Birdman would blend right in,” Dan quipped.

  “Except, his actions aren’t eccentric. They’re irrational,” Ben said.

  “That’s relative to your point of view.”

  “Oh yeah? He’s the only one with that point of view.”

  “But, if there really are Gamensoots, his actions are rational.”

  “Rational? I don’t believe so.”

  “But, he does. And, then there’s Gary’s confirmation. See? It’s point of view.”

  “Right, and your point?”

  “The point is; he’s acting logically based on what he believes true. The fact he’s wrong is irrele
vant to his behavior. All our actions are based on our beliefs.”

  Crossing the viaduct the radio summoned, “Car 508, 508, in the vicinity 2874 Henshaw Ave, noisy dog complaint, anonymous, neighbor wants to get some sleep.”

  “508, copied.”

  Ben leaned his head back as if he could see beyond the roof, “I believe I see a solar storm from Venus and Mars aligning.”

  Dan chuckled. “If you’re right there’s no hope, but I believe it’s just the full moon.”

  “Too crazy a night for a just a full moon.”

  “Then it’d be rational for you to go ahead and shoot yourself.”

  “But what if I’m wrong?”

  “Oh, well, — Hey, where’s Gary?” Dan asked knowing the run was on Follert’s beat. “We’ll give him a minute to disregard.”

  “Don’t expect he will. Caught a dispatch leavin’ the hospital.”

  “I didn’t hear one.”

  “You were in the car. He’s got government business?”

  “So, what’s so important?”

  “He’s on a dumpin’ complaint, if you must know.”

  “Don’t matter anymore. We’re here.”

  With the cruiser’s windows down, they honed in on the howling. Dan pulled to the curb in a middle class neighborhood. “Close as we’re gonna get.”

  “What time is it?” Ben asked logging the arrival.

  “Time for all the doggies to be asleep.”

  They walked toward the howls and came to a fence at the rear of a brick four-square house. An Alaskan Malamute stood on top of a shed doghouse arguing with the moon.

  “Why doesn’t this ever bother the owner?” Dan asked.

  Ben shrugged his shoulders and they went around to the front door. The doorbell brought no response. “Must be broken.”

  “Broke? I can hear it ring.” Dan rapped loudly with his nightstick. The lone response was renewed efforts of the dog.

  “Stick must be broke too,” Ben chuckled.

  Additional attempts to raise the resident only excited the dog.

  “You want to tackle him while I cuff him, or do I wrestle him while you cuff him?” Dan asked.

  “Sorry, I don’t do dogs! ’Sides the cuffs won’t fit.”

  “Suppose, if we ask nice, he’d ‘paws’ for awhile?”

  “Silly talk isn’t solving anything. What’s more, it’s close to our stake-out time. We better get the Dog Warden up here.”

  “You get a hold of some secondhand weed? No Dog Warden’s gonna get out of bed without a court order.”

  “If we don’t get this mutt shut up, there won’t be a stake-out. Neighbors ’ll be calling all night.”

  “Well then, we might as well camp out.”

  “Maybe not, you see what I see?” Ben said referring to a patrol car approaching.

  “Bet it’s the Ghost Rider.”

  “Shame on him ’cause he’ll inherit the howlin’ hound.”

  They walked back to meet the car at the sidewalk. The vehicle pulled to the curb, and Gary stepped out. “I heard the run. Stayed off the air to see what you had.”

  “Well Gary,” Dan said, “Thanks to you, we don’t have anything. You do. It’s your beat.”

  “Is that it?” Gary asked, hearing the howling.

  “He’s mean, with big nasty fangs,” Ben said. “Good luck on shutting him up. We’ll be goin’.”

  “Nooo problem. Got just the thing.” Using his flashlight Gary searched through his war bag perking Dan and Ben’s curiosity. “I know it’s in here. Know I got some.” Dan and Ben waited patiently for his secret weapon. After several minutes Gary set the hook. “Found it!” He closed the door and started toward the dog carrying nothing but a flashlight.

  “What?” Dan exclaimed, “That’s your big secret? You gonna hypnotize it with a flashlight?”

  “I gotta see this,” Ben said. “Change your name to dog charmer.”

  “Oh no,” Gary replied, “I got these.” He turned opening his hand revealing a small pill canister. “Dog-gone-doggie-downers. You mean THE DUO doesn’t have any in their war bag?”

  “How you planning on stuffing them down his throat?” Dan scoffed.

  Ben laughed. “He’ll take your hand off!”

  “No problem. I have PBJs leftovers from Box Town,” Gary said.

  “That’ll do. Pooches love peanut butter,” Dan noted.

  “Take notes, Dan,” Ben suggested. “Gary’s writing a new page in the Procedure Manual.”

  Taking a sandwich and peeling back the top layer, Gary laid three capsules on the peanut butter. “That’ll do it. Maybe, one more.”

  “You still got to feed it to him!” Ben reminded.

  Ordinarily, they’d let the dog howl, and have Day Shift contact the owner. However, Gary saw a chance to get one up on his companions. The sandwich assembled, they all walked back to the fence.

  Dan called the animal, “Here doggie, doggie, here boy.”

  He stopped barking and glared. Gary launched the Mickey. The dog charged off his house to investigate, and was snapped back at the end of a chain.

  “Just great! We’re short.” Gary said.

  “What you mean, WE, Kemo-Sobie? You made the pitch,” Dan said.

  “My toss ain’t short! The chain’s not regulation length.”

  “Regulation length, doggie-poo!”

  “Should have known. White boys can’t shoot,” Ben said. “Here, I’ll give you a boost over the fence.”

  All this activity renewed the frenzied howling.

  “I’m not getting that close! ’Sides, the chain doesn’t look very strong. You go. You have longer arms.”

  “What’s longer arms got to do with it?”

  “You don’t have to get as close.”

  “I don’t do dogs!”

  Gary looked at Dan hoping he’d have a better suggestion.

  “Let’s review, uh, your beat, your idea, your Mickey Finn, your pitiful pitch,” Dan said raising a finger with each ‘your’. “Use your stick. Shove it over to him.”

  “Yeah, remember your training. It’s an extension of your arm,” Ben chuckled. “Let me give you a boost.” Ben again made a stirrup with his hands.

  “Come on! GO! Or, forget it. We got a stake-out to get to,” Dan urged.

  Gary conceded reluctantly. Half way to the bait, the dog realized his domain was invaded. He became furious and strained against the chain. Howls became fierce snarls and growls. Stalactite fangs caused Gary to hesitate.

  “It’s further back to the fence than the bait,” Dan encouraged. “A couple more steps!”

  Gary’s nightstick nudged the bait into range. Jaws clamped around the stick and a fierce tug of war ensued.

  “Let go of the stick you demon dog!” Gary screamed yanking with both hands. “Nooo! Release beast!—Release!”

  The dog snapped at the stick for a better bite and it jerked loose. The sudden lack of resistance sent Gary sprawling backwards into the fence. The hound dispatched the sandwich in gulps. While he licked peanut butter, Gary clambered over the fence.

  As they retreated, Dan noticed a robed man standing on the porch next door. Just walk away. Don’t even look at him. But, he saw the circus! Ignoring him might make it worse. man motioned for them to come closer. Swell, no escape.

  Gary also saw the man and went to the porch, “Are you the one who called?”

  “Officer, this goes on every night. Is there nothing more you can do?”

  “No sir, not unless you’re willing to go to court and testify.”

  “But, officers, can’t you testify to its viciousness? Why do you need me?”

  “In the wisdom of our Justice System I cannot testify to your sleep being disturbed. It’s hearsay, not firsthand knowledge. I can only testify to my own sleep being disturbed, but it hasn’t been because I’m working.”

  “That’s asinine!”

  “No argument here. We don’t make the laws; just try to figure out how to enforce them. Som
etimes, a citizen has to take a stand.”

  “Maybe, you’re right,” the man replied scratching his chin. “When I complain about crap in my yard, that neighbor tells me I’m over-reacting. When the dog barks all night, every night, I’m exaggerating. His retaining wall is collapsing taking my hillside with it, but it’s my problem. If my son’s ball goes in his bushes, the boy’s unruly. And, the icing on the cake; if I poison that howling hound, I’d be the one arrested!”

  “You’ve got it figured. Some people get the idea the world turns around their birthday. Sometimes the courts can educate ’em, but more often, not. Unfortunately, the courts are crowded. A little common sense would make life easier and keep us out of court. You want to sign the complaint go to the clerk’s office. List us as witnesses: Officers Follert with a T, Black, and White.”

  “You’ll win,” Dan said.

  “Not sure what,” added Gary. “He’ll get a fine. Dog’ll still be there.”

  The complainant slapped his arms against his sides in disgust, turned and went inside his house. The officers returned to their cruisers, and the dog continued to howl.

  Reaching the sidewalk Dan remarked, “All that hullaballoo, and what did we accomplish?”

  “Not much, but Gary’s ‘show-n-tell’ was fun to watch,” Ben said.

  “What’s wrong with you two? Listen. It’s already quieter, isn’t it?”

  Dan ignored the question with his own, “You get the downers from Doc. Pherson?”

  “I’ll answer yours after you answer mine,” Gary said. “What ‘stake-out’ you going to?”

  “It’s a shot in the dark we worked up. We’d bring you in, but it’s shaky. If it goes bad, a third man kills our alibi. But, our next caper that won’t get you fired, you’re first in.”

  “Fair,” Gary said. “Doc. Bowser on the parkway. Tell him I sent you. We can split the take. Let me know how it goes. Good luck.”

  In route to the stake out Ben casually remarked, “Isn’t it great to live in America where everyone can have a lovin’ pet?”

  “You’re a big fearless cop. You have to get over this thing with dogs.”

  They patrolled for a half-hour before feeling comfortable with laying off the air for the stake-out.

  “All’s quiet. Want to check on YOUR bow-wow buddy?” Dan asked.