Going to his locker, Dan prepared his war bag and joined other officers in the squad room. Thundershowers? The weatherman’s always wrong. Half the relief milled around and Dan sensed a mixed buzz of joviality and foreboding. The ambience of Damocles sword permeated; all was well, yet a certainty something would spoil it.
The two sergeants at the table tonight were Hallister and Fleischer. Thirty-one years old Hallister received his stripes ninety days prior at Vice Squad. His curly brown hair and unpredictable behavior earned him the name “Squirrely Curly.” Now, as a sergeant, higher command objected to “Squirrely” as disrespectful. The men changed it to S.C. The only complaint voiced by the beat officers was his passion for arresting criminals made his favorite words, “Lock him up.” Openness offset his occasional pretentiousness. The men gave him a cautious respect.
“Listen up gentlemen and meatheads alike, important stuff first. Here’s the paper that needs corrected,” Hallister announced handing a few parking tickets and reports back. Clearing his throat, he began again. “Wanted for attempt robbery at Miller’s Pharmacy yesterday is a male, white, five foot six, hundred twenty, squinty eyes, and oval face. He wore a dirty white dress shirt, brown slacks, hemp rope for a belt. Dan, you guys might check Box Town for him.
“Anyway, he went into the drug store, approached the pharmacist, pulled a gun, and demanded morphine and money. Then realizing he hadn’t concealed his face, pulled a black trash bag over his head which he forgot to cut holes in. The pharmacist jumped the counter and knocked the gun away. An altercation ensued, the bag came off, but he managed to escape. Last seen on foot south on Colerain. He left his fingerprints on the bag recovered at the scene, no match on file.
“Competing for the bungling bandit award is a male, black, medium height, and weight. He walked through the doors of a Central Trust Bank on Fifth Street downtown yesterday afternoon at closing time. However, that’s the sole thing he did right, because he caught his foot under the doormat ‘tripping him up’. He stumbled into the service table, and knocked his Lone Ranger mask off. Staggering to his feet a bit confused, he waved what the teller described as a dark green water pistol and yelled, ‘This hold is a stiff-up!’ The tellers laughed so hard they had trouble setting off the alarm. He fled on foot westbound Fifth Street.
“I know you think it’s unnecessary, but from now on you need to turn in your tag jacket logs fully filled out. I know for years we tossed them. No more. Fill them out. The DA wants better accountability.” He paused to allow the men to vent.
“Ours is not to question why.” He said to regain their attention and waited for quiet. “And that’s it, except for one minor thing. My probation period ends at noon tomorrow. I’ll thank you now for not embarrassing me with initiation tomfoolery, because I’m off tomorrow. So, hit the streets a running, and lock someone up before the sun comes up.” With a gesture of his hand he asked, “Sergeant Fleischer anything?”
Fleischer shook his head.
“Lieutenant Hess?”
“The captain has noticed our burglaries are down compared to last night run. He sends his compliments. But, don’t let it go to your heads…”
“A-TEN-TION!” The “clack–clack–clack” of heels down the hallway announced Captain Kirk’s approach which brought him in view before all the ties were buttoned up. “At ease, men. Let them nooses dangle, ‘til you hit the street. Do continue, Lieutenant.”
Hess resumed, “I was just informing them of your compliments on the Burglary patrol.”
“Yes, Sir, excellent effort indeed! Stays that good to the end, I’ll buy a keg for the relief party.”
“On the other hand,” Hess said, “I’ve noticed the PFOs weren’t very numerous last week. The scarcity of cars when I make my rounds after 0300 gives me concern. Being past the halfway mark doesn’t mean we let up. We have some impressive stats, and we can end this run on top of every other district. Low burglaries …”
“More than a start, I’d say!” Kirk replied, “They’re cruising in warp speed.”
The lieutenant realized the futility of pressing his point with the captain interrupting every sentence, so he yielded, “Anything else, Captain?”
“No, just came in to put the Channel Three thing to bed.”
“Very well then, men, clean those ties up and hit the street. That’s all, dismissed.” As the officers stood Hess added, “Don’t pass up any movers or parkers. Make it a balanced sheet.”
“Go crush the crap out of crime, and don’t get any on you,” Captain Kirk remarked in a strong voice watching their departure.
On the way to their patrol cars, Gary buttonholed the Duo, “Okay, I’m in. What are we gonna do about it?”
“Do about what?” Ben asked.
“Squirrely Curly’s challenge.”
“Means nothing to me?” Dan said.
“Nothing! If he respects us enough to toss the gauntlet, we should respect him enough to pick it up.”
“Don’t think it’s a matter or respect. Hallister a bit cocky over new stripes, that’s all.
“A rooster’s got to crow once in awhile,” Ben said.
“Give ’im time. He’ll be alright,” Dan agreed. “It means nothing. Fresh rank always spreads their feathers. ’Sides that, Snaggles is working.”
“Dan’s right,” Ben agreed. “For once I’m proud he’s staying out of it. It’ll snap back on us.”
“I figured you’d lead the charge,” Gary said disappointed.
“Figured wrong. I’m on thin ice with Hess, and Hallister didn’t make it personal. Best I just let it pass.”
“Amen, amen,” Ben sang.