Game of the Blues

by Kenn C. Kincaid

  Entering the room, Ben flipped the light switch. The single fixture over the table bathed the table in subdued light. The thief, a sack of coins for a pillow, lay on his side in a sleeping stupor. In the dim light, his green work clothes blended with the table felt. Ben motioned to Dan, and then carefully handcuffed the man without waking him. “On three,” he whispered.

  They stepped back. Ben counted with his fingers. When the third finger flipped up they screamed.

  “COPS! Run for it—COPS!”

  The inebriated thief jumped off the table, staggered into the bar, bouncing off into a table, and collapsed on the floor. Ben helped him up and into a chair.

  “I had two drinksh, offisher. Honesh.”

  “Yes, I can see that. But, the problem is you’re still here, and the place is closed.”

  “I knowsh itsh raining.”

  Dan patted him down finding a raggedy wallet containing the social security card of Terry Tommich and seven dollars. There were no outstanding warrants. However, he had a record of several “Breaking and Entering” charges.

  “Tell me if I’m wrong, Mr. Tommich,” Ben asked. “You broke in, busted open the coin boxes, and set aside a take home order of whiskey. Leaving, you see it’s raining, and while waiting for it to stop you killed off those soldiers on the bar, got sleepy, and took a nap on the pool table.”

  Terry sat quiet trying to digest it all and finally shrugged his shoulders, “I didn’t knows y’ush was here.”

  “Do tell, Terry,” Dan said. “How’d you break in?”

  “I din’t breaksh in. I hidsh in the closhets.”

  “Okay, we’ll write it up so your public defender can make sense of it, being you won’t remember.”

  “I’ll handle the evidence collection, and secure the building,” Martin offered. “I yield another arrest to the Duo who can’t even hide and eat!”

  They transported the arrested. The rain stopped and the streets dried before they returned to their District. Dan keyed his mike, “508, request 518 on Tac 4.”

  “518, copied.”

  Dan switched, “508 to 518, what’s your location?”

  “Clifton”

  “You still have a full crew if we decide to use some comp time and cut out early?”

  “One or both? Either way it’s no problem. No-one’s bailed yet and it’s a real quiet night.”

  “Thanks, we haven’t decided yet. We’ll get back with you.”

  “518, clear, returning to Tac 2”

  “Car 508,” came the dispatcher’s voice.

  “508, go ahead.”

  “All’s quiet over the city. I‘ve made your requested inquiries. They’re positive. Do you wish me to make notifies?”

  Dan looked at Ben, and he nodded. “508, affirmative. Clear, back to Tac 2.”

  Returning to their district operation channel, Dan advised, “508, available for service.”

  “Coffee?” Ben suggested.

  “If you think we have time.”

  In five minutes they were backing into the donut shop. As they sat bantering who would buy, the radio interrupted, “Cars 508 and 505, 508 and 505, burglar alarm 1379 Sassafras Avenue, Windermere Distributors.”

  “508, copied,” Dan replied without logging the run. The game is a foot, Officer White. When duty calls, coffee waits.”

  They arrived in the front of five hundred foot warehouse when they heard Gary’s arrival, “Car 505, Signal Thirty-five.

  Even with his short tenure, Hallister was established as an active hand on field supervisor who often covered runs. With Fleischer tied up on the chase’s paperwork, and the assumption 508 would be relieved early, his arrival surprised no one. Ben and Dan were checking the west side railroad doors when the sergeant arrived at the northwest corner and worked toward them. When they met in the middle, Dan keyed his mike. “Advise the other cars at Windermere’s we are with Car 518 at the railroad loading doors. All secure.”

  Within a couple minutes, a loud slamming sound of metal against metal and shouting erupted at the rear of the building. As they ran toward the rear, the shouts became clearer.

  “Halt! HALT!” Followed by the echoing sound, “BLAMM, BLAMM-AM.”

  “GUNFIRE!” Ben shouted.

  They all ran around the end of the building with their guns drawn. The large parking lot was empty. Hallister keyed his radio. “Check 505 and 503. See if they’re okay?”

  “505, okay on the south-east corner.”

  “Car 503, Car 503, you okay?”

  There was a long silence, and Dan saw worry creep into the sergeant’s face.

  The radio buzzed, “Car 501, in route. 507 responding. 514, I’m in the area.”

  “Serge, you want all them rushing in before we know what we have?” Dan immediately asked Hallister.

  “518, use the cars for a quadrant, not needed here,” Hallister radioed.

  The dispatcher began setting the quadrant.

  “He’s probably chasing someone. Likely fled down toward Brashers Street, behind Keebler,” Ben suggested.

  The sergeant looked in the direction indicated. “No way, that’s two hundred feet in line with us. We’d have seen him. They had to go around the far side.” Hallister hurried toward the opposite corner.

  “508, advise the cars we’re approaching the northwest corner with 518, and will check the east side.”

  The dispatcher verified the information, “Car 503, Car 503 respond.”

  “503, I’m all right. No additional cars needed,” he blurted over the radio.

  Hallister, in the forefront, they proceeded cautiously around the corner. Twenty feet ahead a rustling was heard in the bushes alongside the building.

  “503, 503, have 518 meet me to the rear on the east side of the warehouse.”

  “518, we’re already there,” Hallister said as Tom Watkins emerged from the overgrown slope.

  Tom was extremely excited and spoke rapidly, “I yelled, Halt. He just kept running. I couldn’t tell. Too dark.”

  “Take a minute, get your breath,” Hallister said, “then give it to me slowly.”

  Tom took a couple minutes to regain composure, and Gary joined them.

  “It’s bad, Serge. It went down real bad,” Watkins explained. “He ran. Didn’t stop for me. I didn’t know. It just went bad.”

  “I still don’t understand. WHAT went bad?”

  “Serge, everything happened so fast. The guard! I—I shot the guard! I don’t know why he didn’t stop—unless, he was chasing a burglar.”

  Hallister then aimed his flashlight down a thirty foot slope into a gulley. A man in a Pinkerton uniform lay prone with a large glimmering spot on his shirt. Dan rushed to the guard’s side, and Hallister began to follow, but Tom grabbed his arm. “It wasn’t my fault, Serge! You got to help make this right!”

  Dan reached the man, checked him over, and came back up the slope. “He’s dead, Serge. Hit in the center of the kill circle.”

  “That’s a cold report, Officer Black,” Hallister scolded.

  “What are we gonna do?” Watkins asked.

  “We’ll have to call homicide. I’ll call for the lieutenant.”

  “Hold on, Serge!” Gary shouted. “Tom’s a good cop. Wasn’t his fault. It could’ve happened to any of us.”

  “Yeah,” Ben admitted.

  “Serge,” Dan said, “You just go get a coffee. We’ll fix this. Make it go away.”

  “Sure, Serge,” Gary and Ben agreed. “Dan’ll know how to fix it. You don’t want to ruin a good cop’s career and family over something like this. Go get a coffee. You were never here.”

  “Never here, right?” Dan agreed.

  “I-a- I can’t do that,” a brokenhearted Hallister replied. “I wish we could, but it just won’t fly. In addition to violating everything we stand for, there are dispatch tapes, and family. He’ll be missed. I’m going to have to call Hess in. He’s going to have to handle this.”

  “Not Hess,” Dan said, “You know
he’ll make a mess of it and fry Tom.

  “There’s no way out,” Hallister replied, “It’s just not going away. We’ll deal with it honestly. With this many witnesses, it’ll come out okay.”

  The sergeant walked a short distance down the building. Dan kicked at some empty beer cans sending them rattling across the corrugated metal siding. Startled, Hallister turned and shouted, “Get hold of yourself! All of you!” Then he keyed his radio, “518, have 520 meet me.” After the lieutenant acknowledged the request, Hallister returned to the group.

  “We probably should bring our cars around, Serge,” Dan suggested. “It’ll save time when Hess gets here.”

  “Good idea,” Hallister confirmed, “but someone needs to remain on the scene. Dan you and Ben go first, I’ll go get mine and some crime scene tape, and then Gary.”

  Dan and Ben hurried to their cruiser. Dan drove around to the front. Stopping, he opened his door, “I gotta see how this plays out. Wait here.”

  “I’m not gonna miss this. My butt’s on the line too.”

  “Alright, turn your radio down and get the lead out.”

  Stooping, they worked down the brushy east side of the building to within twenty feet. Hallister was just returning. The lack of light limited the view to occasional flashlight reflections, but the voices were distinct.

  It was five minutes before anyone spoke. It was Gary’s voice, “It’s taped off, Serge. Do you mind if I wait in my car? My stomach’s a little - uh - you know.”

  “Sure, go ahead. The Duo will be back soon. I’ll wait here.”

  It took Hess another ten minutes to arrive. “520, in the rear of the distributers. 518’s car’s here, but I don’t see him.”

  “505 can bring him around,” Hallister advised.

  “I don’t see 505, only car in the lot is 518’s.”

  “Car 520,” the dispatcher responded, “He’s on the east side of the building.”

  Hess walked around and met Hallister who snapped a salute and said, “We’ve got a real bad situation here. The officers responded to a burglar alarm several minutes ago, and in the excitement a guard was shot.”

  “SHOT! Where is he?”

  Hallister led the lieutenant along the warehouse to the taped off area. Shining his flashlight down the slope Hallister said, “There…” he broke off not seeing the body, and almost stumbled rushing down the slope. There were trampled weeds, but no body. “They snuck back and got him!”

  “Who did?”

  “Black-White-Follert—and…”

  “Stop this nonsense and get up here!”

  “It’s obvious to me now. The bad news is I wasted your time. The good news is nobody got shot.”

  “Make sense. I’ve got important things to do!”

  Hallister climbed up the slope, “We’re done here. I’ve been bamboozled.”

  “I don’t know what’s going on, Sergeant. But, I’m warning you. If you want to stay a sergeant you’ll give that 508 bunch close scrutiny. I ever catch you cutting them slack, you’ll regret it the rest of your short career!”

  “Yes, Sir, I’ll remember. My apologies. It won’t happen again, no sir. I appreciate your warning. If I have your leave, Sir, I need to go read them the riot act.”

  Dan signaled Ben to retreat. Back in the cruiser they headed for the donut shop to meet Gary and the security guard. Dan pulled up next to Gary’s car. Hendricks, having changed out of the guard shirt, handed their order to them.

  “That went down pretty slick,” Hendricks laughed.

  “Except for one minor detail,” Gary agreed. “Dan, I thought you said Hess would be gone.”

  “Hess always takes off early the night before a Captain’s Briefing,” Dan explained.

  Dan was not surprised to see Hallister pull in near them. There were two major routes out of the warehouse district. One went to the district and the other passed the coffee shop.

  “Officers, seems I need to report a missing person,” Hallister greeted them.

  Dan took the lead, “Sergeant Hallister, have you met Officer Jerry Hendricks, formerly of Pinkerton Security?”

  “I believe so, although not face to face. Also the subject of a discussion I just had with Lieutenant Hess which—did not—end well.”

  “Sorry, Hess always takes off before staff meets. But, you insisted on calling him.”

  “What did you expect me to do?”

  “Good point.”

  “This’ll spread fast and chase me forever. I admit I taunted you all at roll call, and as a result, my mettle’s been tested.”

  “If it were me, I’d carry it with pride – a badge of courage,” Dan said. “Turns out, you weren’t stung so much as legitimized.”

  “Was it planned that way? What if I’d walked away? It’d ruined my life, and your consciences would’ve carried it all of yours.”

  “Some things you can’t plan, but we really didn’t think you’d do that. I reckon there’s risk in any initiation. In reflection, I think we got carried away.”

  “I was cocky. I thought I was home free. Believing in a misconception is a big mistake. It won’t happen again, and such antics won’t either. When on the street, we’re going to be professional. My butt’s in a sling with Hess. I can’t afford anything less now.”

  “Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Dan said. “What about you guys?”

  “It’s understood, Serge,” they replied.

  “Are we dismissed, Sergeant?” Dan asked.

  “You’re dismissed.”

  They braced and saluted. The sergeant returned it with gusto. Hallister went in the restaurant to order coffee. He tried to pay, but found his arrival anticipated and the bill paid. When Hallister turned to leave they were gone.

  En route to their beat Ben remarked, “You know, I’ve done enough police work for one night.”

  “No argument, it’s remained quiet. What do you have in mind?”

  “It’s still pretty dark. I’ll put a ‘fiver’ on Winton Road Hill.”

  They proceeded to a long four-lane road, containing photo sensor streetlights every two hundred feet. One section of lights was oriented to the slope’s direction allowing the sensor to be deactivated by the cruiser’s floodlight. At thirty-five miles an hour it wasn’t an easy target. Each took a turn driving while the other spotted. The one turning off the most lights in a set of passes won. A pass took a couple minutes. Ben was first immobilizing twenty-six lamps. They pulled into a warehouse lot in view of the stretch of lights to switch drivers, chat, and wait five minutes for the lights to reset.

  On the second run, Dan hit twenty straight targets before missing and totaled twenty-five. “I demand a re-run. It’s too light. Half didn’t come back on. We’ll finish this tonight.”

  “Day is breaking, but there were plenty of targets. You’re aim’s off.”

  “If my aim’s off, it’s from that blasted curse the eyeball jockey put on me.”

  “Oh, gracious me, now you have a readymade excuse for everything. There’ll be no end to it!”

  “Speaking of curses, we better check and see if all our doors are on their hinges, one more time, before we swing in to quit.”

  They quickly fell into a relaxed although vigilant exercise. Finishing in time to drive by the fuel pumps, top the tank off, and pull into the station in time to stand dismissal.

  “Okay, at ease,” Sgt. Hallister said once they fell in line. “It’s been a long hard night for all of us, so let’s just get this done and get out of here.”

  “Say the word and we’ll disappear quicker than a Pinkerton Guard,” BC remarked. The comment caused a room full of laughter.

  “Settle down, we can do this at attention if you want,” Hallister said.

  An immediate hush fell on the room.

  “Here’s the way we’re going to deal with the Pinkerton caper. I’m admitting I challenged you, you responded, and I fell for it. I’d call that fair and square. You have five minutes to get it out of your system, s
tarting now. So have a good laugh on me, but then it’s over, forgotten, and we move on to new business.”

  He looked at his watch and the seconds ticked by. Hallister took the fun out of it, and laughter was short lived. “Apparently, that’s enough time. We’re turning the page on it, and hereafter we’re serious. If you’re not sure what I mean, see me after head count and I’ll spell it out. End of story. Everybody have their paper in? Everybody accounted for?”

  Hallister counted heads verifying all officers present. “BC, you get a new Ford out of that deal last night?”

  “No sir.”

  “Shame, but, more important neither did the bad guys. Good team work.”

  “Dan, you kept your head on tonight and it came out okay; more great teamwork. I don’t want to hear any bad mouth on this, Follert made a good stop. It wasn’t his fault it went bad. There’s risk in this job. The verdict’s out on Black’s swap maneuver. Downtown will likely weigh in on that soon enough. Everybody needs to remember, what works once don’t necessarily work twice.”

  “I’ll say,” Ben said.

  “Gotta say, 508’s run the gauntlet tonight,” the sergeant said. “They started out in conference with the captain…”

  “One of their favorite coffee spots,” Watkins chimed in.

  “Nabbed a drunk leaving Morgan’s who blew a triple aught.”

  “The new district record,” Lewis kidded.

  “Yep, we need to post that one,” another remarked.

  “Took time to show their respect to me…,” holding up his hand palm outstretched. “Laugh time’s over!” interrupted Hallister. “They didn’t just favor me. They got most the relief half beat to death and a hex put on ’em by a voodoo vicar. And Ben rolled through it all showing when the rubber meets the ramp, he can handle it.”

  He paused shortly for the squad’s banter.

  “It’s nights like these which keep us coming back for more. Anything important?” Hearing no response Hallister said, “Get some sleep. Same time, same place, same insanity tomorrow. Dismissed!”

  Quickly they stored their gear and headed for home. As always, Dan checked the clock and rounded the minutes to pick one of the five routes home.