by Edson, J. T.
‘I know,’ Jack drawled gently and truthfully, his demeanor expressing an understanding for and sympathy with the motives of the other peace officer. Then his tone became crisp and official as he continued, ‘I hope you remembered to read him his rights before you took him into custody?’
‘Well no, sir, I can’t rightly say’s how I did,’ the patrolman confessed, sounding as serious as the Sheriff. ‘What with one thing and another, it sort of slipped my mind. Come to think of it, though, I don’t reckon a real sneaky legal shyster would reckon I’d got around to taking him into custody as such.’
‘You haven’t questioned him, have you?’ Jack asked.
‘Well no, sir, I haven’t,’ Garrity answered. ‘I would have, but he wouldn’t stay still long enough for me to read him his rights and it wouldn’t have been legal for me to question him until I had.’
‘You mean he didn’t give you a chance to read his rights and you had to protect yourself when he attacked you?’
‘Don’t you reckon that’s how it was, sir?’
‘I’m satisfied and I reckon I can say the same for Captain Bellamy and Chief Hagen,’ Jack said noncommittally, neither confirming nor denying the question. ‘But will that Robertus gal from the local network and the Gusher City Mirror go along with us on it?’
‘I don’t think we’ve any need to sweat it where they’re concerned, sir,’ the patrolman claimed, white teeth gleaming in a broad grin. ‘That’s another advantage of being black. Ethnic butt-lickers like her and tabloids like the Mirror are always willing to put it down to a soul brother expressing his feelings of equality when he puts the slug on a honky, particularly one who looks like he could be a blond haired W.A.S.P. So I reckon they’ll excuse me for doing it.’
‘Then it looks as if we’ve nothing to worry about from them, even if they should be riled over “Operation Gob-Stopper” delaying them getting out here,’ the Sheriff asserted, being equally cognizant of the advantages offered in such a situation by the willingness of the “liberals” in the media to gloss over any form of hostile or anti-social behavior by a member of an acceptable “ethnic minority”. ‘What say you and I head on down and tell those fellers on Route 228 they can come and start cleaning up after us? I reckon you and I have done enough for the night, so we’ll head back to Gusher City and see how you partner is making out.’
‘That’s a big affirmatory from me,’ Garrity declared. ‘Only, when I’ve done that, I’ll have to go back to the House and start writing my report.’
‘And I’ll have to go over to the Office and write mine,’ Jack pointed out with a smile. ‘No matter what they tell you, Joe, rank doesn’t have all the privileges.’
‘I always thought it did!’ the patrolman declared, slapping a big right hand against his thigh. ‘Well, learning different and that I’d still have to file reports, I’ve changed my mind about trying to take over your job.’
‘I’m right pleased to hear that,’ the Sheriff claimed.
‘Because I’m way too old and lazy to be starting to look for a honest way of earning my living.’
Case Two – A Voice From the Past
As the author has good reason to know from personal experience as a member of the British Army, there are few more startling and unnerving sounds than that caused by a rifle bullet passing close above one’s head!
The sudden, eerie and, seemingly, exceptionally vicious ‘splat!’ of the swiftly moving piece of lead splitting the air, followed by the more distant detonation of the powder charge in the case of the cartridge, xvii is disturbing enough when it is happening merely as the result of a carefully aimed shot sent over a soldier during training for battle and without any intention of hitting him.
Nor is the effect any less alarming when the sound occurs unexpectedly to a veteran peace officer in Texas!
Probably, because practical experience is likely to have taught such an individual exactly how dangerous a situation may be portended by the sound, the sense of perturbation it causes is even worse!
Under such conditions, the odds are greatly in favor of somebody trying to kill the peace officer instead of merely seeking to improve steadiness when being fired upon!
An incident of the kind under discussion occurred to Jack Tragg, the Sheriff of Rockabye County, as he was strolling with his dog, Cousin Ian, by his left knee along the sidewalk of Beaumont Street in what the Gusher City Police Department referred to as the ‘Business Division’.
At that moment, however, there was nothing in the outwards appearance presented by Jack to indicate he was a peace officer of any kind, much less the Sheriff—therefore, the senior law enforcement official—of a county in West Texas.
Tilted back slightly on his head of close cropped black hair, the hat worn by Jack was a cream colored Resistol ‘Beaver 100’ with a four inch brim and its ‘regular height’ crown—encircled by a medium width dark green, rusty red and deep blue feather band—fashioned in a ‘Luskey roll’ crease indicative of it having been purchased and styled at the Gusher City branch of what could proudly claim to be, ‘Texas’s Leading Western Stores Since 1919’. His lightweight two-piece suit was oak brown and excellently tailored. Hanging open, the single-breasted jacket had a white arrowhead motif on its pockets. Rolled and padded to supply the sturdiness it required, his waist belt was two inches wide. It had a natural tan floral design on a ‘hammered’ brown background and was secured by a large sterling silver oval buckle embossed with his initials. His shirt was a dark tan Luskey Shantung, with a shield-shaped Navajo silver and turquoise bola tie. The well-creased legs of his trousers hung outside the tops of sorrel colored Tony Lama ‘Corral Goat’ boots, of the traditional ‘cowboy’ pattern except for the toes which were wide and rounded and the heels which were equally suited for walking or riding.
As he was not wearing his gold and silver six pointed star insignia of office anywhere in view, the Sheriff might have been no more than a fairly wealthy resident of Gusher City taking his dog for an evening stroll. Despite his jacket being open, there was no sign of another item he was carrying upon his person which, if it had been in sight, would have indicated he was in all probability a peace officer of some kind. On the other hand, regardless of his attire suggesting some affluence, even if he had not been identified as the ‘Super Heat’ of Rockabye County it was unlikely any criminal would have considered him a suitable and easy candidate for a mugging or other kind of robbery.
In addition to the aura of hard and powerful physical strength Jack exuded, even without trying, the dog which was accompanying him—needing no lead to keep it at the ‘heel’ position—would have served as a further deterrent. Such a high standard of training was only rarely restricted to instilling nothing more than obedience. On the other hand, although it was most competent at tracking and attack work, xviii it was not one of the breeds which were usually employed for ‘police’ duties in the United States.
Red wheaten in color, Cousin Ian stood a good twenty-seven inches at the shoulder and weighed some eighty hard muscled pounds. Like its master, there was not an ounce of surplus fat anywhere on its sleek and powerful frame. In fact, the gloss to its short coat, the jaunty carriage of its upwards curving tail, and the leisurely seeming, yet effortless, way in which it moved exhibited it was in most excellent physical condition. While bearing some resemblance to a Labrador retriever in its bodily configuration, the line of hair which ran—decreasing symmetrically from the pair of ‘crowns’, facing each other at the shoulder blades, to the top of the hips—indicated it was a Rhodesian ridgeback and a superlative example of its kind.
Regardless of external appearances, however, the Sheriff was indulging in something potentially more serious than merely taking a leisurely walk with his dog!
The matter which had brought Jack to Beaumont Street could even have resulted in the shot being fired at him!
Like all his deputies and peace officers in general throughout the United States, the Sheriff was considered to be on duty
twenty-four hours a day!
Therefore, despite having been waiting to act as host at a small dinner party in the condominium he and his wife maintained as a town residence, a telephone call Jack had received caused him to take his departure before the guests arrived. The message had come from a man who had been a reliable ‘stoolpigeon’ for many years, requesting a meeting to divulge news of considerable importance and urgency. Matteo Munez had also declared the passing on of the information could not wait until the following morning if the Sheriff’s Office was to benefit from it and would only be delivered to Jack in person. Accepting that the matter would be worthwhile, as all similar calls from Munez had been in the past, he had asked his wife to make apologies for his—he hoped temporary—absence. Knowing this was one of the penalties of being married to a peace officer, she had raised no objections.
Taking the big ridgeback with him, to act as what would appear to be the reason for his behavior while following the instructions he had received, Jack had driven in his private vehicle towards the area designated for the meeting.
One of the peculiarities developed by Munez was that he would never arrange his rendezvous with the Sheriff—to whom alone he offered his specialized services—any way except on foot. What was more, despite numerous assurances by Jack, he had always insisted upon the meeting place being in an area where there was unlikely to be anybody else around. This was the reason Business Division had always been a favorite location when he wished to impart information. Consisting of office buildings and shops of various kinds, with little or no resident population, its premises were at best sparsely occupied even in the early evening.
This was particularly the case where Beaumont Street was concerned!
At that moment, as far as Jack could see, he had the street to himself!
In part, this was the fault of the Sheriff. Respecting the strictures of his informant, being all too aware of the penalties inflicted by the underworld upon those guilty of such a betrayal as was contemplated, he had contacted Central Control at the Department of Public Safety Building and requested all routine police patrols through the street to be diverted until he had completed the meeting.
There was nobody else in sight!
Even the man Jack had come to see was not in view!
Having left the Buick some distance away, in accordance with his instructions, the Sheriff was completing the remainder of the rendezvous on foot!
As he was strolling along, watching the doorway of the shop Munez had stipulated as the meeting place and in the dark shadows of which he assumed the other was waiting, Jack was wondering what could have been learned that would not have waited until the following morning to be passed on. Even with the stoolpigeon’s natural desire for secrecy, there were numerous places where a sufficiently confidential get together was possible in the daytime.
Knowing Munez, however, the Sheriff felt sure that whatever the news might be he would not be wasting his time by coming away from the party to hear it. Some stoolpigeons might attempt, by suggesting a much greater urgency than was actually the case, to increase the amount of the payment they would receive. Trying to take advantage in this fashion had never been the way with Munez. What was more, it would have been a very stupid—or foolhardy—informer to even contemplate playing such a game with a man as experienced in all aspects of practical law enforcement and possessing the added authority granted to Jack Tragg by virtue of his appointment as the Sheriff of Rockabye County.
Coming from the blackness of an areaway between a bookstore and a haberdashery shop, both clearly closed and unoccupied for the night, a shot from the other side of the street brought an abrupt end to the train of thought upon which Jack was engaged!
~*~
‘There’s one thing I just can’t understand,’ Helen Hughes declared, running a much jeweled hand through her casually yet elegantly coiffured blonde hair. ‘With his family being able to offer so many much more worthwhile opportunities, why should Brad waste his time being a deputy sheriff?’ Although it had been directed at the woman and man with whom she was conversing, the blonde spoke sufficiently loudly and possessed such a carrying voice that her comment reached the other ten guests at the party and made them fall silent. As they were all involved in some way with the local law enforcement agencies, none of them were enamored of the disdainful way in which the last two words were uttered.
The couple to whom the remark was addressed shared the resentment!
‘I would hardly call it wasting his time,’ Mrs. Brenda Tragg answered, her accent indicative of British upper class “county” origins. She spoke with a quiet politeness, but there was an undercurrent of antipathy which was discernible to anybody who was better acquainted with her than the blonde. ‘Being a deputy sheriff is a very worthwhile occupation, in my opinion. And Brad is quite good at it.’
The wife of the Sheriff of Rockabye County, whose maiden name had been ‘Besgrove-Woodstole’ and who could employ the prefix, ‘Right Honorable’ which was awarded in the country of her birth, xix was some five years younger than her husband. About five foot seven inches in height, willowy without being in any way skinny or raw-boned, her slender figure was enhanced by the stylish blue and white cocktail gown she had donned for the occasion. Cut short for convenience, due to the extremely active life she led, her ash-blonde hair needed no artificial additives to retain its natural color. Long hours spent in the open air, running the horse ranch they owned with considerable proficiency and profit, had failed to harshen the texture of her skin to any noticeable extent, having left it a rich golden bronze. She had a maturely beautiful face which exuded an aura of self confidence. There was also an indefinable air about her features suggesting she would stand no nonsense—nor would she, as more than one brash young cowhand had discovered to his cost when he aroused her temper—and who possessed an inborn facility for instinctive leadership which stemmed from belonging to a family long accustomed to finding themselves in positions of command.
‘And I get a whole heap of satisfaction out of being a peace officer,’ asserted the man about whom the comments had been made. Something in his soft spoken Texas drawl indicated he considered the first remark was uncalled for and, particularly in the present company, out of line. ‘More than I would from anything the family could offer.’
In appearance, Deputy Sheriff Bradford ‘Brad’ Counter might have been newly arrived from ‘Muscle Beach’ in Southern California, or could compete—probably with success—in a ‘Mr. Universe’ competition. Six foot three inches tall, he had tremendously wide shoulders that trimmed to a lean waist set upon powerful hips and legs. Shortish and newly barbered, his golden blond hair topped a tanned, clean-shaven and exceptionally handsome face. As was the case with Jack Tragg, perhaps even more so, there was nothing about his attire externally to indicate he was a peace officer. Rather he looked like a prosperous young yet senior business executive. He was wearing a tailor-made lightweight, Western-style two-piece silver-gray suit, a cream-colored shirt, a Rockabye County Country Club necktie and Tony Lama ‘Center Cut Ostrich’ boots. So excellently had his jacket been fitted and cut that, even when fastened, there was no sign of the Colt Government Model of 1911 automatic pistol—regardless of its overall length being eight and a half inches and weighing, even when the magazine was empty, two pounds, seven ounces—in the Hardy-Cooper spring retention shoulder holster beneath its left side.
However, although the attire worn by the blond giant as usual—except when on an assignment where it would have been out of place, or character—clearly cost more than was normal for a deputy sheriff, this caused nobody who knew the facts even the slightest qualms over his honesty. As was intimated by the young woman he was now regretting have brought to the party, his family connections put him in possession of independent means and he was not solely reliant upon his salary as a peace officer for indulging in his sartorial tastes. xx
‘But being one cuts into your social life so much!’ protested the beautiful, c
urvaceous, expensively clothed and jeweled blonde. ‘Why only a fortnight ago, you had to call off our weekend trip to the sports car rally in Juarez at the last minute.’
‘Like I said, a case had come up,’ Brad answered, his tone suggesting he was growing tired of offering the explanation. However, he could not prevent his gaze flickering briefly to another member of the Sheriff’s Office who was present as he was speaking. ‘My team caught it, so I couldn’t go.’
‘You couldn’t even loan me your MG to use while I was there,’ Sheila pointed out sullenly, this having been more of an irritant than the failure to accompany her as her attitude implied. She had noticed the interplay of glances between the two peace officers and read more into them than was the case as she went on, ‘And you knew I was counting on winning the rally with it.’
‘Why sure,’ the blond giant drawled, without any hint of contrition. ‘But I’d already told Alice she could have it for her trip to El Paso.’
Which was true!
As far as it went!
However, a more complete explanation would have done nothing to reduce the ire of Helen Hughes, even though the loan had not been made for the reasons she suspected!
It would, in fact, certainly have had the opposite effect!
The ghost of a smile played upon the lips of the person responsible for the dissension as she listened to the truncated explanation. Although she had borrowed the imported MG M.G.B. convertible from Brad for the purpose he described, the loan was actually in repayment for a favor she had rendered. She had completed some routine office work so he could join the Sheriff to hunt down a stock killing mountain lion and, inadvertently, this led to him becoming involved in and kept occupied by an investigation during the weekend when he should have been off watch. xxi However, any sympathy she might have felt for the blonde had been swept away by having heard what she too felt were most uncalled for comments about the career chosen by the blond giant.