Game of the Blues

by Kenn C. Kincaid

  “Hold your palm up.” Moore dropped the key in it. “Slow and easy. Try anything I’ll shoot you dead. Got nothin’ to lose.”

  Dan followed the instructions. Carefully removed his shirt, exchanged with Moore, and re-locked the cuffs around the tree. Moore kept peeking around the bushes.

  “I don’t see no cops, but there’s cars at the Shell station,” he said nervously.

  “Then go for it while it’s open. Now or never. Go. GO! Good luck!”

  Moore bolted into the cruiser. As it accelerated away Ben crashed through the brush.

  “You in love with that tree,” he quipped pulling his cuff key out.

  “Hurry up!”

  “You okay?” Ben asked grabbing the mike, “Suspect stole cruiser. West on Derby! He has Follert’s gun-belt and radio.”

  “Get these off!”

  One cuff freed, they ran to the sidewalk.

  Dan watched the stolen cruiser approach Car 503’s roadblock. Officer Watkins took cover behind his vehicle with a shotgun.

  “503, is Dan in the cruiser!” Watkins asked by radio.

  “No,” Ben radioed as they watched Moore crash into the rear of 503’s cruiser spinning it away and forcing Officer Watkins to the side. Watkins rebounded uninjured, but the car sped beyond range by the time he brought the shotgun on target.

  Gary pulled up in 508’s vehicle. Dan jumped in the front seat while Ben piled in the back. The car squealed off in pursuit.

  “He wrecked my car! I’m going to beat him senseless,” Gary complained.

  “You expected Watkins to move the roadblock? He didn’t ask ‘pretty please’ you know,” Dan said.

  “Gotta catch him first,” Ben said.

  “507, in pursuit of stolen cruiser north on Colerain,” the radio blared.

  At the corner, Watkins waved them on. The engine’s quad carburetors roared. The distance shrank.

  “508, we’re north on Spring Grove parallel with Colerain chase cars. We’ll attempt to intercept.”

  The fox had scrambled its cover, but the speed and number of hounds on his tail was unexpected. Moore no longer had opportunity to dump the car and slip into the night.

  “Its escape, or crash and burn for him,” Dan said finally buckling up. “Don’t get too close.”

  Moore sped toward the dead-end turning left just prior to it. Cars 504 and 514 waited a block away. Because the suspect rammed the roadblock car earlier, the officers were parked to the side shotguns ready. Moore hit the intersection at such speed it didn’t provide a safe backstop to shoot. Speed carried the suspect vehicle wide. It sideswiped the corner of a brick building and careened through the parking area of the railroad yard. Moore slowed slightly before exiting back onto Spring Grove dragging a section of chain link fence.

  At Hess’ directive, Fleischer joined in the pursuit and chase vehicles were limited to Cars 508 and 514. Moore activated the stolen cruiser’s bar lights and the traffic yielded. Recklessly, he twisted through the streets onto Interstate 74. The chase proceeded at times over a hundred miles per hour. The vehicle fled toward the Indiana State Line and jurisdictional limitations. However, county deputies already waited at the city-county line where they joined the chase.

  “519, advise city cars to back off. County has the pursuit,” Fleischer ordered by radio.”

  Moore sped down the interstate unable to lose the county officers. After a few miles he took an off ramp, and accelerated down a curvy country road.

  “Ta-woo-Beep, Ta-woo-Beep,” the radio sounded with an all county broadcast. “Attention all cars all departments, David Seven and Charley Four in pursuit on Dry Fork Road. All units, Henry Five alerts the BRIDGE IS OUT north of Short Road. Barricade reported stolen by juveniles. Attention all cars, Henry Five’s on the side, beacons activated, at ‘BRIDGE OUT’ sign.”

  The storm, which took the bridge, left a wide fissure. A creek meandered through boulders below. Moore saw the officer’s signal to stop, but whizzed past him at fifty miles an hour. The cruiser catapulted into the air. The sound of crashing and tearing of metal accompanied the vehicle bouncing off the boulders like a ball in a pinball machine. The chase ended. The seat belt saved Moore’s life, but he incurred some broken ribs, a minor concussion, and a broken arm.

  By the time the city officers converged on the scene, the county had called an ambulance. As the medics carried Moore to the conveyance Dan stopped them. He pulled the sheet back and removed his badge from the shirt.

  “Real stupid, Bruce, my man, you didn’t steal the General Lee. It was a city police car.” Walking off he shouted back, “Oh, keep the shirt. It’s ripped and bloody anyway.”

  The rescue transported Moore under guard back to the city’s General Hospital where the felony charges kept him off the streets for some time. Gary doubled up with Ben, while Dan attended to the required paper work. After an hour Dan’s part was complete. Fleischer would be banging out the incident report on a typewriter for most of the night. Dan slid into the cruiser and radioed, “508A, have my Partner rejoin me at White Castles, Knowlton’s Corner.”

  “505, copy. We’re Thirty-five.”

  They’re drinking coffee, while I’m wadded through paperwork!

  Dan pulled side by side to Gary’s cruiser parked in the back row. Gary was alone and Dan just scowled at him. “What, Preacher?”

  “I got stuck with all your paperwork! That’s what.”

  “Hold on, Mister Negotiator, it was your cockamamie idea. Which, I don’t think anybody was too fond of.”

  “Ghost Rider, you started it all!

  “And to show how I appreciate your help, I bought you coffee. Ben went for it.”

  “That’s the price you put on my sacrifice—a coffee?”

  “Here comes Big Ben now and he’s not smiling.”

  Ben opened the door, “You dumber ’an dirt rookie brain!”

  “I’ll let you two get reacquainted,” Gary said pulling away.

  “Seemed like a good idea at the time?” Dan said, “Guess, I mostly reacted.”

  “I guess? How do I hold my head up? My partner’s a dumb as dirt rookie. You got a death wish? Do something like that again and I’ll shoot you myself. Would right now if I weren’t too old to train another partner.”

  “For cryin’ out loud. You like me.”

  “No way, I’m just use to your ugly face. Don’t read nothin’ into it.”

  “Worked didn’t it?”

  “Do your braggin’ to your undertaker. You call that greased pig chase working?

  “Boils down to professional risk, and I was comfortable with it.”

  “Stupid people are comfortable with stupid fool tricks!”

  Dan and Ben returned to routine duties. They stopped several suspicious vehicles, wrote three FIRs and two red light violations. In time the radio summoned them again.

  “Car 508, 508, loud party, 1612 South Argyle.”

  They arrived in a neighborhood of assorted Cape Cod and Bungalow style homes. At 1612 several cars parked on the front lawn. Walking to the door, they heard a penetrating drum beat. Dan tapped on the door. He saw a person shrouded in a black robe standing inside with his back to the door. Without turning to look, the shroud stepped backward to open the door. “You’re late, Brandon, he’ll be furious,” the robed form whispered quickly retreating into the main room.

  “Shall we take it as an invite?” Ben suggested.

  “We will, but watch out,” Dan replied.

  They entered the empty unlit foyer. Flickering light dimly illuminated the main room of the house. They stepped in cautiously. A lone drummer pounded out the slow beat from the rear corner. Numerous candles provided light. Eleven additional figures formed a semicircle around a small table draped in a dark cloth. All present wore long black hooded robes tied with red sashes. The participants swayed and chanted to the cueing of a bearded man standing behind the table. His robe opened over a red frock. Coal black hair shrouded his head under the cape. An elongated head a
ccentuated the high cheekbones and pointed goatee.

  Dan immediately keyed his mike and whispered, “508, send me a couple backup cars.” The radio clicks caught the attention of the leader.

  “Who dares trespass in this sacred chamber?” he demanded approaching from behind the table. The robe obscured his feet making it seem he floated. “Depart or be cursed!”

  “Been there, had that done already,” Ben replied firming his grip on his nightstick.

  “You’re trespassing. You will depart!”

  “You’re good at intimidating talk,” Dan said, “but we can’t go ’till we’ve finished our business.”

  “You will go! There are enough of us to put you out!”

  Normally six to one odds encouraged Dan to retreat and wait for backup, but this costumed aficionado’s attitude provoked Dan’s stubbornness. He stepped back and flipped the light switch. Nothing happened. Why’d I think that was gonna work? Okay make a show of standing your ground. stepped forward and faced the leader.

  “Before you do something stupid, consider we have six bullets apiece. I think the odds are on our side.”

  Dan flipped his stick to the left hand and unsnapped his holster. Ben followed suit. The man did not retreat, but stood glaring at them. To Dan’s relief he heard 505 and 509 signal their arrival. Soon Gary Follert and Gene Martin joined them, and the atmosphere changed. Dan and Ben secured the holster straps.

  “What right do you have to barge in here and interrupt our religious service?”

  “It’s pinned to my shirt,” Dan replied. “Now if you want to stop playing games, we’ll do what we need to do and you can get back to your séance or whatever. We have a neighbor complaint regarding a loud party, so first I need to know who the owner of the house is.”

  “It’s joint ownership.”

  “Okay, seems you don’t want to play nice. Keep in mind, if I lock you up, all the toys are mine. Now, your ID, please. And, I’ll tell you up front, if you don’t have one I’ll haul you downtown to the Bureau of Identification to find out who you are.”

  The man gathered in his robe until he reached his pants pocket, retrieved his wallet, and provided a driver’s license.

  “Everybody, see that? Time to play ‘follow the leader’,” Ben announced to the crowd.

  Reluctantly they all provided IDs. The leader’s license identified him as Douglas Willis, with an address in a different neighborhood.

  Gary stepped to the front window where some additional light came in from the streetlight and queried the information for wants. While they waited, Martin meandered around the room. He noticed an absence of furniture, and spotted a hash pipe. Close inspection revealed the bowl contained a residue. He confiscated the pipe. Martin joined Dan and raised the pipe up conspicuously. “Gentlemen, whose pipe?”

  No one responded.

  “Come on now. I have a lost pipe. Will the real owner please step forward?”

  Again, no response.

  “How come there’s no furniture in the house?” he addressed Willis.

  No response.

  “Humor him, Willis,” Dan derided. “Where’s the furniture? Haven’t you moved in yet?”

  “It’s an investment purchase. Like I said; a joint ownership venture. Nobody lives here. There’s no need for furniture. We’re going to turn it over for a profit.”

  “Can’t help notice you found a need for the table under the black sheet. Just exactly what is it you all do here?” Martin asked.

  “Right now it’s an in-house religious study.”

  “You emphasize religion, and it’s hard to miss the star and goat logo draped over the table. Is this an altar?”

  Willis did not respond.

  “What religion are you participating in?”

  “Natural holistic worship.”

  “For future reference, Mr. Willis,” Dan interrupted, “in order to meet the residential code for an in-house gathering there must first be someone permanently living in-house.”

  “Car 505, your queries are ready,” the dispatcher informed.

  Martin abandoned the questioning. Gary stepped into the foyer out of earshot and received the results. He pulled Dan aside. “We have a misdemeanor on Kellogg, a Domestic Violence Restraint violation on Puggs, and our main man’s wanted for felonious assault. I called for two more cars.”

  “Wait here for them, and we’ll play twenty questions ‘til they arrive.” Dan returned to the main room and approached Willis.

  “Okay, before I left, you were explaining your religious status. Are you recognized as a religion by the Federal Government?”

  “Would be if we applied for it.”

  “So, you’re implying this structure is a church rather than a residence?”

  “No, I keep telling you we’re having an in-house meeting.”

  “Yes you do, but you keep dancing around whose house it is. Who is having the meeting?”

  “I’m having the meeting.”

  “Are you the owner?”

  “No, it’s jointly owned.”

  “See, once more round the merry-go-round. There appears to be some contradiction. If this is a function of a corporate party it’s business and requires business zoning, but this house is in a residential zone.”

  “You’re full of double talk. People meet in houses everywhere to discuss their religion, pray, or whatever. We’re no different. We are free to pursue our life as we choose!”

  “Joint ownership sounds corporate owned. Business or residence? This may seem foolish to you, but Residence Zoning requires an intent to reside. Gets technical doesn’t it, but that’s how lawyers make a living.”

  “It’s a free country. We’re free to perfect our lives as we see fit.”

  “Cars 507, Signal Thirty-five.” The radio sounded, followed shortly by, “Car 514 Thirty-five.

  “Excuse me a minute,” Dan said. “I have a couple things to take care of.” He left to meet Officers Kirby and Castleman in 507 and Officer Daley in 514.

  “Here’s what we have. We responded to a loud party. We get here and the door’s opened. We slip in to find a cult thing going on; black robes, drumbeat, weird chanting. There’s a dozen in all and the holy man’s pushy. We called backup, queried everybody, and three hits. Martin snags a hash pipe, and a sixteen year old whose mommy doesn’t know what the Devil he’s doing. When we go in, Gary will take the Juvee, and one of you take the misdemeanor. The head spook’s got a felony and we’ll see how he takes to the news after we cuff the others and kick the clan out.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” said BC Castleman.

  “Better, we back your felony, and Daley grabs the misdemeanor, Jansen suggested.

  “Okay with me,” Dan said. They all nodded and went into the main room. Dan gave his traffic whistle a couple short bursts. “Listen up folks. There’s a couple misdemeanor warrants in the crowd, and a juvenile with no parental accompaniment.”

  While Dan spoke, Gary stepped alongside the juvenile as Kirby took custody of another man, and Dan pointed out the third for Daley. The leader relaxed since no one approached him.

  “The rest of you need to call it a night,” Dan announced.

  The participants pulled off the robes and packed them in purses, nap sacks, and bags. Soon all but three departed.

  “Gentlemen,” Dan addressed them, “I can provide you a blue cab, but they’re all express to the county jail.”

  They hesitated.

  “Fares paid, but doubt you’ll like the accommodations.”

  “We’re waiting for Councilor Ischyres. We’ll leave together.”

  “Is-ki –res?” Dan sounded the name out. “According to his license he’s Douglas Willis. But whoever, I need to confer with him privately. You’ve been directed to disperse.”

  Escorted by BC they reluctantly left, and BC closed the door. Dan turned his attention to Willis. “Sir, the reason I called this private meeting is to inform you of the felony warra …” Willis swung at Dan. Anticipatin
g it, He blocked the blow with his nightstick. As they struggled, Dan yelled, “No mace! Closed area!”

  The four remaining officers struggled to subdue the five feet nine hundred sixty pound assailant. Willis’ veiled strength took them off guard. He fought like the Devil he looked like, and the four officers were tossed about like a loose tarp in a strong wind. They held their own, but made no headway. BC managed to grab someone’s radio mike and yell, “507, we need a Taser…” The transmission broke off as he fell backwards from the impact of Willis’ backhand. BC shook it off and grabbed Willis’ arm.

  The dispatcher, unable to raise any of the struggling policemen, broadcast, “Officer needs assistance.” The morning quiet erupted with screaming sirens from every direction. The closest cars were occupied with arrests, and couldn’t respond. Cars responding from the south end and adjoining districts were going to take a few minutes.

  The struggle continued. The officers wearied, but the combatant grew stronger as if energized by the excitement. Dan finally managed to apply a restraint headlock. He held it with all his might, but with little effect. Willis threw his shoulders forcefully, twisting frantically and Dan’s grip weakened. The officers engaged in one of the fiercest struggles of their careers.

  Dan’s restraint hold did not last. When it slipped his hand caught under the amulet the man wore around his neck. As Dan fell back, he broke the chain and landed on his backside with a thud. Stunned, Dan sat looking at a glass eyeball encased in a three inch round black oval disk. The pupil starred and flickered in the candlelight.

  With the loss of the pendant, Willis’ energy waned. They easily handcuffed him, and Dan immediately called off the assistance response. Shortly thereafter, Officer Becker rushed in. He observed a less than average size man being easily handcuffed without resistance, and yet four large hefty officers, uniforms in disarray, out of breath, and perspiring.

  “Give it back,” Willis shouted at Dan. “It’s my property. Return it!”

  Dan then connected the amulet with his will, and strength to fight.

  “Do I look stupid?”

  “Its personal property, you can’t take it away!”

  “You don’t like to share at all, do you?”

  “I demand my property! You’ve no right to take it!”