Game of the Blues

by Kenn C. Kincaid

  “Nope, Gary’s problem. Let sleeping dogs lie.”

  Dan accelerated heading for the Stop-N-Go Market. He parked the cruiser a block away behind Dutch’s Custard shop, and walked over. The short clerk, Lehra Oama Armadondase, had adopted the name Larry. Their many coffee stops and patrol checks gave Dan and Ben good rapport with him.

  “Good friends, officers, you come in,” Larry greeted.

  Ben walked to the counter, and Dan phoned the dispatchers to take them out of service.

  “Larry, we have some news. We have solid information someone might try to rob you tonight,” Ben said.

  “I close store!” he responded grabbing the keys from the counter drawer. “I no stay!”

  Ben grabbed his shoulder to stop him. “We’ll stay with you.”

  “What? Okay, I stay.”

  “Yes, you stay. We stay too.”

  “You stay. I stay,” Larry said courageously.

  “I will hide outside,” Ben explained. “Dan will take a post inside.”

  Dan looked around, “I’ll hide in the cooler box. I can see and watch your counter.”

  “Cooler cold, not good you stay.”

  “Got a jacket; it’ll be perfect. When the robber comes in, you cooperate, and when he turns to leave duck below the counter.”

  “I go home. You duck counter,” Larry suggested.

  “If the robber sees a stranger at the counter he’ll get scared off. Then he might come back some night we aren’t here.”

  “You give me gun?”

  “A gun would put you in danger. You’d never have a chance to use it. We need you to act the same as every night. We’ll be here. You’ll be safe. Stay calm and duck under the counter when he leaves.”

  “I do same as last night? Robber not come last night.”

  This guy’s too nervous. I can’t get through to him. “Ben, don’t think he’s getting it. See if you can explain it.”

  “Until the man takes money, or shows a gun, no crime,” Ben said. “You no argue. Do what robber say. When robber goes to door,” Ben pointed, “duck under counter.”

  The clerk seemed to identify better with Ben. He had Larry walk through the scenario for practice. “I think he’s got it, Dan.”

  “What are you going to do when the robber comes in?” Dan asked.

  “I do last night. He go, I duck like this,” Larry disappeared behind the counter.

  “Right!”

  “I top rate. Robber go. Larry duck,” he said disappearing under the counter once more”

  “It’s doable. Should work,” Ben said to Dan.

  “Should, but Burns echoes in my mind.”

  “Burns?”

  “Burns’ infamous warning, ‘The best laid plans of mice and men, go oft awry, an’ leave us naught…’”

  “Oh that.” Turning, Ben continued, “Larry stay calm. It’s a waiting game.”

  Ben and Dan took their posts. Larry went to his counter. Each customer increased Larry’s nervousness. After twenty minutes he resembled a spectator at a ping-pong match; glancing door to cooler. Thirty-five minutes later, Larry left the counter going into the cooler, “Robber come. You shoot robber man?”

  Great! He’s losing his nerve again. Best we scrap it. “Looks like we were worrying about nothing,” Dan said. “It’s past time for the robber. We get lots of bad tips. Happens all the time.”

  Larry relaxed and returned to his counter. Dan picked up his clipboard and mug shots, and turned for the cooler door as the next customer walked in. The customer was dressed casual with his shirt tail hanging out. He selected items without consideration. It caught Dan’s attention, and he alerted Ben by radio, “Something’s not right with this last guy.”

  The man came to the back of the store. At the end of the center aisle he pulled a stocking mask over his head, drew a revolver from under the shirt tail, and started for the counter. Dan was out of position.

  Blast it! Can’t step out, might force hostage crossfire! Dan thought as he keyed the radio whispering. “Ben, it’s a go. Male, five ten, 165, blue T-shirt, jeans, red bandana.”

  Larry saw the mask and dove under the counter. “Robber! Robber!”

  Dan had to wait. Stepping out would position the clerk in his line of fire. Larry’s cries did not alarm the perpetrator. The robber walked to the counter, peered over, but saw no one. Larry had doubled up at the waist and crawled into the cabinet. The robber jumped over the counter, grabbing Larry and yanking him to his feet.

  “Open it. Give me the money. Drop-box too!” he demanded shoving a paper bag at Larry.

  Larry hurriedly stuffed the money from the register into the bag shouting with a breaking voice, “No key! Box no open! No key!”

  “Open it!” demanded the thief pointing his gun at the night safe.

  “No key! Take wallet! No key!”

  The bandit grabbed Larry’s wallet, and shoved the billfold into the bag ripping the paper. Bills fluttered to the floor like maple seedpods. Throwing Larry aside, the bandit scooped them up and headed for the door. Seeing opportunity, Larry dove back under the counter shouting. “Cops shoot now! Shoot! Shoot now!”

  The hostage problem alleviated, Dan stepped out. “Halt! Police! Drop the gun!”

  Rotating, the bandit raised his weapon. Dan put tension on the trigger. The hammer started to rise.

  “Drop the gun. I WILL SHOOT!”

  The crook paused, and then raised the weapon. Dan fired twice. The impact spun the bandit into a display of detergent boxes. Both boxes and bandit went sprawling across the floor. The gun hit the floor and slid to Dan’s feet. Broken boxes released detergent on the floor. The thief kicked in a futile attempt to right himself in the slippery spill.

  “Thanks Bucco,” Dan said stooping to retrieved the weapon.

  The perpetrator regained his senses rolled halfway down the aisle onto clean floor. He sprang to his feet to flee. In three strides he encountered Big Ben’s huge form in the doorway; weapon in one hand, night stick in the other. “You’re kiddin’ yourself.”

  The thief tried to stop abruptly and the soap powder, on the soles of his shoes, sent him sliding into a wire cage of rubber balls. Grabbing the cage for support, it pulled over on him collapsing backwards onto the floor. The bandit pushed himself into a sitting position facing Ben, looked at the blood on his shirt, and started whimpering.

  “You gun wielding bullies are all cry babies,” Ben scoffed.

  Dan checked the perpetrator’s wounds in preparation of taking him into custody. “Come on, Bucco, too late for teary eyed remorse.” When Dan touched the man’s injured arm, he collapsed backwards. His head fell against one of the large balls and then bounced from one to the next. Two bounces later, he lay on the floor. Dan radioed for paramedics. While waiting, he dressed the wound with bandages from the store shelves.

  They also notified the dispatcher and their supervisors. The rescue team arrived within minutes, and shortly later two backup cars. The medics revived the culprit with an ammonia capsule. He coughed and sneezed.

  Dan’s search found no identification. After reading the Miranda warning he asked, “You want to tell us who you are?”

  “I got nothin’ to say, Copper.”

  “Where’d you get the ‘roscoe’ – it stolen?”

  “Talk to my lawyer.”

  “What’s his name and number?”

  The man did not reply and remained uncooperative.

  Sergeant Fleischer arrived and Dan briefed him. “We need to tie the loose ends up and do the paper.”

  “Sure, Watkins can transport and Harkins can secure the scene until Robbery Squad shows.”

  The Duo returned to their cruiser and headed into the station. It took the rest of the shift for Fleischer to finish the “shots fired” paper work. Their part complete, they sat in the briefing room, “Pretty slick work,” Dan commented.

  “SLICK! Slick you say? I never saw such a bungled mess.”

  Gary walked by on his way to
stow his gear and remarked, “Heard you guys had some excitement. Appreciate you looking after my interests.”

  “You’re welcome. But how’d we do that?” Ben asked.

  “Keeping me out of it!” Gary walked on snickering.

  “Well, tonight was serendipitous. Wouldn’t you say?” Dan remarked.

  Ben looked at Dan’s blood stained shirt sleeve, shook his head, rolled his eyes, “‘Serendipitous’, sweet surrender, where do you get these words?”

  “Well, it was.”

  “Yeah, that Burns guy had it pegged.”

  “Better’n most plans. Think it was the timing.”

  “TIMING! What timing?”

  “Well, one thing I can’t figure,” Dan said. “I had the draw on him, and he tries me anyway?”

  “Maybe he’s suicidal.”

  “Or unbelievably desperate. What’s wrong with people? Look at what we dealt with tonight. First we visited Box Town, Sam and Hilda at each other’s throats, a foil fanatic, unreasonable neighbors, and Bucco Bandit.”

  “I’m telling you the Yen and Yang are out of balance in the universe.”

  “Simpler than that, Ben. A rebellious people deny the true identity of good and evil.”

  Ben winced, “Not that again.”

  “Yep, gotta be.”

  “All societies have laws, Dan. Need them to maintain order.”

  “There’s the issue. Society makes laws, but they keep changing. Look at the speed limit. Expressways were seventy, then with the gas crisis fifty-five. Same road. So is it wrong to go sixty, everybody does?”

  “That’s kinda a gray area, Dan.”

  “That’s what I mean. No absolutes. People assume everything’s a gray area. Toeing the line would be easier if we could find it! I tiptoe down a thin blue line which separates evil from good. Lean as far as I dare—just don’t fall! The world’s paintbrush is gray. Where does black end and white begin?”

  “Okay, there must be a line for the sake of order, if not justice. But we don’t make the rules, just enforce them.”

  “That’s the point, Ben. Who can draw the line? Who defines right and wrong?”

  “Not us, that’s for sure.”

  “And rightfully so, it takes a God to decree absolutes. All else is social politics, which people feel free to violate. And, if we arrest them, who they mad at?”

  “Us.”

  “What upset them?”

  “Getting caught, of course.”

  “If they step in a ditch, fall and break a leg, do they get mad at the doctor?”

  “Of course not.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  “Beats me.”

  “The difference is gravity, Ben. Gravity is a natural law. It’s accepted as absolute, but moral law isn’t.”

  “Now wait a minute. It’s different. Step off a cliff and you incur immediate consequence. Ignore a moral law and nothing happens.”

  “I think not. Consider your guy-girls from the taxi. Would you agree it’s against moral law?”

  “I’ll give you that, but other than themselves, who’s it hurt?”

  “I suspect everybody. No disease can be confined in a segment of culture. AIDS is a perfect example. As for other moral laws, there’s unwanted pregnancy, hardship of single parent homes, and mental problems incurred from rape, incest, abortion. I could go on. Are these not consequences? Less immediately identifiable, but society as well as individuals incur consequences?”

  “Okay, preacher, I give. I haven’t had this much fun since parochial school debating ‘Can God make a rock He can’t pick up?”

  “Well, sorry, funs over. Here comes Serge.”

  As Fleischer came down the hall he sang out, “Fall in!” The men sauntered into place. “Come on. Get with it. You want to stay here all day too?” The men assembled into a winding line.

  “Harkins, paperwork on your DOA is messed up,” Fleischer began. “Check with the coroner and get it straight. Henderson, neat, complete report, on a messy accident. Martin, you kept the canine boys busy with four PFOs—good work.” The sergeant paused for a moment and then said, “Oh yeah, Officers Black and White went to the circus tonight.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Dan replied, “Front seat tickets for Bucco Bandit’s soft-shoe clown act.”

  “Hess hasn’t heard. He went home early. I’ll put a copy of the paper on his desk. He’ll have it first thing before the Captain’s Meeting—if I ever get finished. He won’t be happy with the shots fired, but the arrest will sure put him in a good mood.”

  “It ought to. It’s the felony robbery he wanted. ‘Sides it’s a righteous shooting.”

  “And we stapled our parkers to it,” Ben added.

  “Did we have parkers tonight? Dan, not on a serious police work night.”

  “Shucks man, never will get this job down.”

  “Enough,” ordered the sergeant. “You fell into another pile of your own manure and once more came up smelling roses. For your benefit I’ll leave a note with the report telling how Lieutenant Hess’ personal guidance has helped …”

  He stopped short as Gary’s gnarled nightstick caught his attention. “How’d you… Naw, don’t even want to know. You’re spending too much time with them.” Before anyone spoke he shouted, “Dismissed!”

  Dan passed Fleischer on the way out. “Thanks, but please, do us no favors!”

  Fleischer chuckled. “You two whine like puppies pulled from the litter, but I know you really love the streets.” He walked away smiling.

  Ben was parked next to Dan. “Well Partner, if nothing else we earned a couple days off until the hearing.”

  “Yeah, now the news media hype starts. I’m a heartless racist despot killer,” Dan groaned.

  “Ignore ’em. Their heads are up their butts. Keeps ’em blind, deaf, and ‘ig-nor-ant’.”

  “I know, but it grates on me: The activists ignore truth and paint it racial. It’s intentional divisiveness.”

  “You got plenty of hang-ups,” Ben said. “But, racism isn’t on the list. Wait ‘till it comes out I was there. They’ll label me worse: a lying hypocritical betraying Uncle Tom.”

  “Wouldn’t matter which of us shot him. Him being black is the catalyst.”

  “I can deal with the activists, but city council never sticks up for us.”

  “Ought to expect that, too. Politicians chasing votes never serve truth. It’s all conniving for a vote. I’ll give you a real worry. Present trend is the affluent are moving to the suburbs in herds turning the city core predominately uneducated, poor, and minority. One day city council is going to have to cater to a core of activists and discontents to stay in the gravy.”

  “Can’t do anything, but get worse, can it?”

  “Worse! I predict at some point a good policeman’s going to pay the price. The truth will be buried, a scapegoat provided, a cop indicted and his life ruined for trying to serve society.”

  “Try to put it out of your mind. We have two days, let’s take advantage of it.”

  “I’ll concentrate on how few years I have before retirement. Maybe I can beat the hangman.”

  “Good advice, expect you to take it.”

  The car doors shut and they departed for their respective homes. Dan drove north and Ben south. The clock sent Dan home the long route. Murphy’s law.

  No matter. I’ve got two days to recover. The hearing will be routine. They’ll have read the reports, looked at the security video, and interviewed Larry. On and on with redundant questions about how we happened to be there. A hunch –a tip –we decided to sit on it while we drank our coffee or just fate? Asking over and over why we HAD to shoot the poor misguided, but good, man. The second guessers offering their unqualified opinions!

  Then, they’ll dismiss us. Order us to report to the ‘shrink.’ That’ll waste another couple hours. Maybe I’ll let him tiptoe inside my brain instead of the cat and mouse go-around. Let him tour the whole wax museum of horrors. Scare the ‘heebie-jeebies’
out of him! That might be fun. Teach him right, too!

  Chapter Nine

  Broken Ambition and Hope

  Dan pulled into his garage feeling like an old man coming home from a geriatrics clinic. He pried himself out of the Corvette. With a careless toss, his gun belt caught a peg near the door, teetered but stayed. Entering the kitchen, he stepped in a small box on the floor. A “foot in the pail” routine ensued.

  Sloppy bachelor. He shook his foot lose. good kick sent the box flying into the sitting room. He popped open a Dr. Pepper from the refrigerator, and slurped at the foam. “Uh-no! Rat droppings!” Too late. Oh well, listen to ‘THEM’ and everything kills.

  He picked up a second box, and kicking the first soccer style sent it onto the porch, “Goal!” Dan sat the drink on the side table turning the rambunctious ferret loose. Trouble darted out pouncing on the crumpled box.

  Dan sat, legs extending down the swing, kicked off his shoes, and laid his head back on a rolled towel. He gazed out the window. Dark stringy clouds spanned the vista and a blend of rose and scarlet cut the canopy of heaven. Even dawn struggles; darkness will not surrender to the light.

  Dan offered Trouble an arm up, and the ferret accepted. He raced across Dan’s lap, springing at the can knocking it to the floor. Trouble jumped after it lapping the sweet spill.

  “Trouble, you’re quicker ‘n thunder after lightning to make a mess.”

  The ferret dragged the can toward his cage by the tab.

  “Stop! You’re making it worse!” Dan jumped to reclaim the can. “I hope it makes you sick!” Grabbing a towel, Dan soaked up the spill, took the towel inside to the hamper and returned. Trouble was occupied with the boxes. Having dragged both boxes into his sandbox, he attempted to stack the smaller on top.

  “So, you too, prefer empty boxes to soft beds?”

  The ferret answered with a bark.

  “Why do I care?”

  The ferret scurried from the cage. Finding no additional building blocks it looked up at Dan and “hee-hawed.”

  “Because, I visited the walking dead tonight; people who fled the playing field to sit under the bleachers. I will stack your boxes,” Dan rose from his swing, “But, I warn you sandcastle thrones soon collapse.” Dan stacked the boxes against the side of the cage. Trouble rushed in. Dan closed the door. “It’s time to call it a night, furry friend.”