Frank-3 Enroute: The Call

By Rod Harris and Norma Hood

PREVIEW
THE CALL

The big clock in the hall showed that is was 1:59 p.m. as I opened the door. Damn, Im good, I thought, always on time.
What the hell happened to you, Officer Randel? asked Undersheriff Collins.
Oh, just a little car-jacking on the way over; the SOB shot my partner in the chest. Looking at my uniform, I observed that I was muddy and wet past my knees, my bloody shirt was ripped at the shoulder and at the elbow on my left arm, and I definitely was not squared away.
Sheriff Morgan queried, Did you kill the bastard?

Frank-3 Enroute!
Rookie Gilmore was trying to hold off Miss La Fleur, whom he was arresting for prostitution when Lt. (Benedict) Arnold criticized him for his behavior. Arnold stated, Ill escort her to jail personally.
I commented, Arnold thinks Miss La Fleurs one hot dancin mama; even put her in the front seat. Ive seen that look in his eyes before. Hes in for a big surprise. Ha, ha, ha!

I asked, Where the hell is Willy?
About that time, I heard, Can I get some help in here, ple.a.se?
Officer Roscoe, who was cuffing Kat, jumped from the pile and ran to the bathroom. Willy, with his gun pointed toward a whore, had her backed up and standing in the bathtub. In her hand was an ice pick. Willy was trying to cajole her into dropping it.
The whore touted, I aint goin back to jail, pigs!

By the way Officer Randel, said Gramms, one of the street people, that anti-freeze (wink-wink) that you gave us sure kept us warm when it rained. Thanks! Its strange how the streets have a beat and a life of their own.

I visited Jasper Boy Murdock at Indian Springs Penitentiary. I could give you information about whos killing all those women if you could get me off on good behavior, coerced Jasper.
Cant do that, Boy!

Control, Frank-3 Enroute to UMC with a young, blond female who needs immediate attention. I have Sister Roscoe with me. My mileage is 10142.1.
Cheri answered, Father Randel? Did you say Sister Roscoe?
Thats affirmative. Switch to five I thought, we need to clean up the drug dealers along with the prostitutes. Ive got to call the captain.

DONT MISS THE CALL!

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jan 18, 2012
• ISBN: 9781468523560

Rod Harris

About the Authors Rod Harris: Rod Harris is a Veteran who served his Country in the U. S. Marine Corp in Vietnam. Semper Fi! He is also a twenty-six year plus Veteran of the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department. His adventures have turned into the second of the delightful series of Frank-3 Enroute novels written by Rod Harris with Norma Hood. Norma Hood: Norma Hood, a retired business owner and a former New Mexico State Legislator, is the mother of four fantastic and successful children, and the grandmother of a baker’s dozen, plus one great-grand daughter. She is an accomplished writer of poetry and prose. Collaborating on their second novel together and developing a wonderful friendship has been an exciting experience for Norma with Rod Harris.

Book preview

MY MECCA

LAS VEGAS, NEVADA IS THE DESERT jewel where I choose to live and work. As a twenty-four, seven defender of the law of the land, I patrol and protect the flashy and shimmering downtown area of Las Vegas and the Naked City from the very scum that rancor the good people in my community. I am Officer Rod Randel, AKA ‘The Hawk’, dedicated to eliminating from the streets those that commit crimes, and that plunder and ravage the peaceful citizens of my desert paradise.

Imagine what Bugsy Siegel was looking for and what he must have thought when he moved to Las Vegas, Nevada in the mid-1940s. Was it for quiet and respectability? Did he expect security, peace and legitimacy? Hardly! His coming cemented corruption and strong Mafia control. Originally, Las Vegas was a watering hole for man and beast in the middle of the scorching desert, the only place for untold miles where cowboys, Indians and other travelers could find that precious liquid. It was truly an oasis. However, that changed from the small resort town to a bustling desert Mecca of blazing lights with gambling casinos, wedding chapels, divorce lawyers, bookies, money laundering, prostitution, illegal drugs and rampant crime. Las Vegas became known as the city where problems are contained in the desert; many of those problems are still buried there. To date, its slogan is ‘what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.’

The Oasis in the Desert welcomes all. No one can say who will wander there, weary travelers, vacationers, thieves and robbers, drug dealers, henchmen and murderers, gamblers and card sharks, dancers, performers and gypsies. And come they do hoping to strike it rich, and they stay in air conditioned suites (even the least desirable motels advertise their rooms as suites) until they either make their killing or go away destitute and discouraged. Many of the miserable live on the unforgiving streets and panhandle for a living while other disingenuous philanderers pillage from the average law-abiding citizens, take advantage of the elderly, or sell their drugs and paraphernalia, their bodies and their goods to the self-seeking and the greedy.

Cognizant of the areas and the moral and ethical citizens that I protect and also the players that make my area a hellhole, I make dutiful and valid arrests. They may beat the rap, but they won’t beat the ride. Unfortunately, many of the culprits are back on the streets too soon. I know this because I’m on the streets every day and I talk with the merchants, the street people, and the seniors that still live in the area and need my help. I see victims of rape, assault, robbery, and burglary. I confront and arrest dopers, dealers, prostitutes and bad guys. I have good sources because I am out there and I find the felons, murderers, gang-bangers and pushers. I am fearsome and fearless, harsh and merciless but fair, ruthless yet compassionate, rigid and firm but humane. My grumpy partner of many years says that I am a one-way, egotistical, self-centered ass-hole. Damn his opinions, but he’s probably right. Bless his ornery heart!

Sometimes it is a dilemma as to how far I should go to keep the peace. Should I use innovative techniques and harsh tactics to achieve the results I need? Must I act as unorthodox as the criminals that I arrest? Is right still right regardless of its popularity? Might I choose to become a criminal with a badge using the law as the greatest cause, the end justifying the means? Am I to put criminals in jail at any cost or to defend the law at all cost?

Join me as I grapple with these conflicts and obstacles on the relentless and demanding streets of my Desert Mecca where entertainment and bright lights prevail, in the city that never sleeps, Las Vegas, Nevada. The Bible says the meek shall inherit the earth, and God put me here to make sure that they do!

Frank-3 is Enroute!

FRANK-3 ENROUTE

THE CALL

ROD HARRIS AND NORMA HOOD

AuthorHouse™

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.authorhouse.com

Phone: [phone]

© 2012 ROD HARRIS and NORMA HOOD. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 1/5/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4685-2861-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4685-2356-0 (e)

ISBN: 978-1-4685-2357-7 (dj)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011962521

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

MY MECCA

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

DEDICATION

The Call

Reality Check

Round Two

Book ‘Em Benedict

Overload

Hit by a Train

First Release

Love Tap

Light Duty

New Clue

After Hours

Reverie

Father Randel

Caitlan

Hatchet

Mayor Pamela Jones

The Mayor and the Naked City

Caretaker

Hamburger Deluxe

After School Lessons

Sterling

Bug Man and the Dumpster

Valentine’s Day!

Bon Voyage

Bumper Buddy

Cuban Extraction

A Coffin

Ambush

It’s Time

Dinner at Eight

Call to Arms

A Little Extra Help

Psyche!

Towncars

Front Man

Private Eye

Flagged

The Set-Up

Tank Top

The Pimple

Coincidence

Never on Sunday

Just Listen

Disclosure

The Stop

Sucker

Warrant

Forbidden Films

Trials

Cargo

The Captain’s Call

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

WE GRATEFULLY ACKNOWLEDGE ALL THOSE WHO kept asking, How’s the book coming along? When will it be out? You’ve remained faithful to our efforts and gently pushed and tugged, keeping us on our toes and on track. We thank those who questioned about the characters that they loved and hated in our first book, wondering if they would appear in The Call. They do! Thanks for listening, for reading and for your constant encouragement. We couldn’t have done it without you. It’s here!

OUR THIRD BOOK IN THIS SERIES has the working title, It Ain’t Finished.

DEDICATION

FRANK-3 ENROUTE

The Call

Is dedicated to the memory of Norma’s father

Dale S. Dennisson,

and to the memory of all those who have

faithfully served in the

United States of America’s military services.

The Call

I LEFT A GOOD TIP FOR the waitress at the Peppermill and departed soon after Lieutenant Dan Arnold had stomped out, madder than a hornet, without paying for his lunch or for mine as promised. It figures, I thought. The management comped my bill as usual as they appreciated the fact that as a police officer I took care of them and the area that I served. I called my friend and partner, Sam Sikes, AKA Grumpy, because he always was, Hey Grumpy, whatcha doin’?

Gonna have lunch, Hawk. What you need?

Meet me at the Huntridge Theater parking lot at Charleston and Maryland Parkway. I’ll see you in five.

Gotcha, Rod.

Control, Frank-3. Cheri’, clear me for fifteen and then I’m on the way to meet the Undersheriff at 2:00. I’ll be available until then.

Frank-3 how was your lunch with the L.T.?

Tell you later, Cheri’. He was a BOJ. (Bundle of Joy)

Sikes and I arrived simultaneously at the theater. I swung my car alongside his, each of us facing the opposite way. Damn, Grumpy, I complained, I had steak and shrimp with old Benedict Arnold, but he stiffed me on the bill. I figured it would happen though, especially after I received a call from the undersheriff telling me to report to his office at 2:00 and to not say a word to Arnold since they knew I was havin’ lunch with him. Arnold blew a gasket and left in a hurry, threatening to get to the bottom of it, wantin’ to know what the hush, hush was all about. He’s running scared.

What did the undersheriff want?

Can’t say, buddy. He didn’t tell me, just said to be there. I’m on my way but thought you and Wells might like to know that the Lt. was fumin’ mad so you could watch out for him. Hey Grumpy, look in your rearview mirror, if I’m not mistaken, that’s the Lt.’s patrol car parked about half a block down. That SOB is tailing me. Well, he can just kiss my sweet ass!

Hawk, he’s so jealous of you and we’re sure he’s out to get us both. Hell, he’s even taken a dislike to Wells and Gilmore, just because they’re our rookies. You still have him worried about New Year’s Eve when he was out with those two women, not his wife. He’s scared spitless that you’re gonna spill the beans on him for conduct unbecomin’. Hee hee! Grumpy lit a Winston cigarette and took a long, satisfying drag on it, blowing slow smoke rings for his own enjoyment. Where you headed now, Hawk? Do you have time for an ice tea while I put on the feed bag?

Sure, I have a couple of minutes, but I told Cheri’ I’d be available for a while.

Okay, follow me to the Strawberry Patch.

I eased my patrol car into gear and slowly left the parking lot behind Sam. I was watching to see what ‘Benedict’ Arnold would do as I stayed under the speed limit. Sikes and I headed our cars up Maryland Parkway.

Watching ahead, I saw that the traffic light at Maryland Parkway and Ogden had turned red. There were several cars in front of me, including Sikes. However, we both observed a white man emerge from an older black car’s passenger side, run to a red BMW that was stopped at the light, and enter the passenger side. I heard Grumpy call, Control, possible car jacking at MD Parkway and Ogden. Suspect vehicle’s turning onto Ogden, westbound. Sikes turned the corner and followed the two cars. I was right behind him. The BMW swerved into the alley and abruptly stopped. The car that was following it proceeded up Ogden.

The BMW’s driver’s door flew open and it was apparent that the female driver was trying to escape. Sikes screeched his brakes as he stopped his vehicle directly behind the BMW and jumped out, his gun drawn. He shouted, Stop, asshole! Freeze! The white man was hanging on to the woman’s purse as she tried to remove it and flee. When he saw that Sikes meant business, he hit the woman with the gun he was holding to force her to comply with the robbery. She slumped to the ground as he jerked her handbag away from her. Sikes rushed to the woman’s side to see if she were all right. Quickly opening the passenger door, the robber jumped from the car and stood, aimed the gun directly at Sikes and fired.

I was out of my car and running to assist. I watched as Sam Sikes jerked backward and fell to the ground, grabbing his chest with his left hand. I knew that he had been hit, damnit! I pulled my radio. The dirty bastard! Control, shots fired, officer down in the alley off Ogden, between MD. Parkway and Ninth. 407 in progress; send backup and an am-bo-lance. I am in foot pursuit up the alley, headed northbound from Ogden.

From his position on the ground, Sikes was quick to get off a shot at the would-be car jacker. However, the shot went wild and the robber picked up speed as he sprinted up the alley. Sorry I missed the bastard, Hawk, Sikes moaned. Go get the S…O…!

Dispatch quickly came back, Code Red! 407 in progress; shots fired in alley at Ninth and Ogden, Officer in pursuit!

Seeing my friend and partner lying shot on the ground raised my adrenaline to its highest. I charged after the villain. Ain’t no way you’re gonna get away asshole, I thought as he splashed through small puddles of rainwater that had accumulated in the alley after the early morning’s hard rainstorm. I sloshed speedily after him, calling, Freeze, you son-of-a-bitch. He paid me no heed. I popped a round. Shit I missed. We sped up the alley and I was gaining on him when he made a left into a parking lot at the corner of the alley and Stewart. As I made the corner, he was jumping through the open, back, passenger window of the waiting black Chrysler. The vehicle was parked headed out with its rear bumper against the back of a high wall.

Go, go! shouted the robber, his feet hanging out the window. The driver revved the motor, threw the car into gear and spun his tires in the gravel of the parking lot. I knew I could not out run the car, so I jumped at it, latched onto the open, back window with my left armpit and elbow and my gloved hand holding the doorframe. The bastard that had jumped through the window started kicking me. Pointing my gun at the driver, I ordered, Stop now, asshole, or I’ll kill you. Then I was kicked in the head and my sunglasses went sailing onto the ground. Now I’m really pissed, I thought. I glanced toward the runner and saw that the bastard’s gun had fallen to the floorboard. If he goes for it, he’s a dead man!

In spite of my warning, the driver did not stop but continued driving through a large, deep, water puddle, slipping sideways and throwing gravel behind his vehicle. Hollering, Stop I said! Stop, damn it! I was hanging on for dear life, but I aimed my gun at his head, prepared to shoot. Out of the corner of my right eye, I saw a telephone pole looming in front of me and realized the bastard intended to scrape me off onto the pole like a bug off a windshield. God must have been watching over me as he does idiots and fools, because the vehicle sputtered and died with me no fewer than six inches from the pole. The vehicle stalled as it slopped through the icy puddle. I knew that the robber in the back seat was still kicking me, but for some reason, probably the adrenaline rush, I did not feel it. I ordered, Both of you sons-a-bitches get out of the car now.

About that time, police cars and a large SWAT van pulled into the parking lot’s driveway blocking the get-away car. Officers and SWAT team members were suddenly everywhere. The kicking stopped as the robber tried to leave the car from the other side. Too late! SWAT team was already there. Shotguns were pointed directly at the two in the car. The first SWAT officer did not bother to open the car door, but was jerking the robber out by his hair, right through the open window and using force to pull him to the ground. Another SWAT member had the driver by the left arm, drawing him roughly through the driver’s window, and I heard a scream as some bones broke during the process. He won’t be drivin’ for a while. The driver went headfirst into the water and gravel, and was stomped in the head so he would stay down. SWAT is not known for being gentle; they are all business. Other officers were standing close by, guns pointed directly at the robber’s heads.

I let my feet down, even though it was in the boot-top high mud puddle, but I could not will my grip to loosen from the doorframe or to put my gun away. However, the SWAT team assured me, We’ve got ‘em down, Randel. Are you all right, sir?

Yeah, I think so. But Grumpy’s down. Get an am-bo-lance. One of the officers got on his radio and called for one. Just then I heard a siren and prayed it was Mercy. Thanks fellows. At last, in what seemed like slow motion, I released my death grip on the door and holstered my gun.

The SWAT team had dragged the robbers out of the get-away car and shoved them into the puddle, face first, pulling their heads up only long enough for them to take a brief suck of air. Of course, they were sputtering and coughing first, so they hardly had time for a good breath. Then they were back, face down while the SWAT team cuffed them and searched them.

One of the SWAT members came to me and inquired about what had happened and asked if I were indeed all right. Officer Randel, we all know that you are one tough officer, but we thought that you were a dead man when we saw the driver heading for the telephone pole. You didn’t look like you were gonna let go of the car either.

Nope, I intended to stick with them until help came. I felt as if I were frozen to that damned door. Must be this damned January storm; colder than hell ain’t it? Thanks a lot. You guys saved my ass.

No problem, sir. That’s what we do best! He laughed heartily as he steadied me while I made my way out of the water and to the dryer part of the parking lot. About that time, my sergeant, Sgt. Blake, arrived and asked to be filled in as to what happened. When he learned that the driver had tried to slam me into the pole, he told the SWAT officers to charge him with attempted murder along with robbery. The first robber would also be charged with attempted murder with a deadly weapon, robbery with a deadly weapon and battery with a deadly weapon.

Sgt. Blake advised, Officer Randel, I will need your weapon. Maggie from Criminalistics is on her way, and since you fired your weapon, we will need to impound it into evidence. Good work, Hawk. I handed him my gun.

About that time, the robbers emerged from the mud puddle, well in hand by the SWAT team. They had been read their rights and knew that they were going down. The driver lunged at me, yelling, You dirty pig! A few more inches and you’d a been a dead bug, you lucky asshole.

The arresting officer asked, Randel, anything you’d like to say to him?

Sgt. Blake stated, You go ahead Randel, I’m going to check on Grumpy. Say whatever you want to this asshole. He turned and walked to the corner and disappeared down the alley. He knows what’s comin’.

I withdrew my right-hand glove from my belt and put it on. I walked up to the driver and growled, You feel pretty tough don’t you now. You and your buddy may have killed my partner. You think no one will hit you, right? Well, I didn’t hear no rights, buster so… I hit him in the mouth with a direct right punch. I wanted to hit him again, but the officer swung him around and away from me. You’d better read him his rights now Mack, I said to the officer.

The SWAT officer scoffed and asked, Randel is your hand okay? I’m sorry that his face hit your fist. Ha! He returned the driver to the mud puddle where he read him his rights.

Our rookies, Officer Gilmore and Officer Wells, arrived and drove the woman around to the get-away car to identify the black car, the robbers and her purse. She had been struck with the gun butt and had a large knot on the side of her head. Mercy’s ambulance team had treated her bloodied knees and hands. She was going to be transported to the hospital when the second ambulance arrived as Sikes had been transported first to Sunrise, as he had been shot in the chest. Oh dear God, don’t let Grumpy die, I prayed. Let him be all right! Lord, this is ‘The Hawk’ asking for a special favor.

SWAT members did not ask the medics to treat the robbers although they had been generously jerked from their car and stomped on when they refused to stay down and remain still while they were cuffed and read their rights. The bad guys had coughed, choked and cussed at the team and told them what they could do with their rights. They had cried out about police brutality, so they were placed again in the puddle with boots atop their heads while they were Mirandized once more. After the second dousing and reading, each of the robbers accepted his plight and was ready to be carted off to jail, but not until the driver had to opened his dirty mouth and gave me his opinion. No one ever mentioned that I slugged him. Neither SWAT nor the police felt kind-hearted knowing that these guys had shot one of their own.

Maggie from Criminalistics arrived and asked, Randel, I hear you fired your weapon. Sgt. Blake gave it to me. What can you tell me?

Hey Maggie. I was headed toward Stewart, I popped a round and it went wild, headed northbound. It’s out there somewhere unless it’s in that bastard’s body. Be sure to get measurements from where the vehicle stopped to the telephone pole, where the asswipe was going to scrape me off the car. Oh…, I guess you know Sikes was shot. You’ll have to retrieve his piece at the hospital. Can we finish this later?

Sure Rod. I have a lot to do here, but I know you want to get to the hospital.

Yeah, I do, but… I looked at my watch and saw that it was 1:53 and I knew that I was to be in the undersheriff’s office at two. Hey Wells, I called out, can you finish for me here? I don’t want to be late for my meet with the undersheriff.

Hell yes, Hawk. Go ahead.

By the way Willy, I asked, where’s Arnold? He was behind me before I stopped.

Astonished, he replied, He didn’t stick around or help you guys? The chicken shit!

"I’ll be damned, you’re right. Even with an officer down. I’ll bet I know where he’ll be around 2:00 o’clock though. His curiosity will get the best of him. See you later Wells. Thanks."

I high tailed it back to my patrol car and sat my wet, muddy ass in my clean car seat, hating that I would have to dirty my vehicle. Hell, I was a filthy mess, and I never, never appeared in front of my superior officers looking anything less than squared away. Not today though. I removed my left glove and used my clean hand to smooth back my hair and to wipe the mud off my face and my mustache. As I drove down Stewart, I looked in the rear view mirror at my image and decided that I looked pretty good, even for what I had been through. Dammit to hell, I lost my last pair of shades in that mud puddle. That really pisses me off. It’s gonna cost the department this time. I don’t give a shit what Arnold says about it.

Turning on my flashers as I parked in a no parking zone in front of the police station, I double-timed it to the undersheriff’s office. The large clock in the hall showed that it was 1:59 as I opened the door. Damn, I’m good, I thought, always on time.

Good afternoon Officer Randel, greeted Undersheriff Clay Collins, You’re right on time. When he looked at me, he gawked, What in the hell happened to you?

Oh, just a little situation on the way over from lunch. Had to stop a car-jacker and his partner in a get-away car. Sorry for my appearance, sir. Looking down at my uniform, I observed that I was muddy and wet past my knees, my shirt was ripped at the shoulder and at the elbow on my left arm, and I definitely was not squared away.

Sheriff Jake Morgan stated, Randel, sorry to hear about Sikes. I heard it on the radio. Any news yet? You two were at the right place at the right time again. I don’t know how you do it. Did you kill that bastard?

Dejected, I shook my head from left to right. I prayed, hang on Grumpy. I’ll be there soon! No sir, I missed. And I haven’t heard about Grumpy yet. They were taking him to Sunrise, but I don’t know about his condition. I walked to the sheriff, shook his hand, and then proceeded to shake hands with each of the other superiors seated there. I tried to take a seat on a metal folding chair so that I would not soil the cushioned chairs in Undersheriff Collins’ office.

Undersheriff Collins stated, Hell Randel, you sit in one of the regular seats, man. No officer of mine has to sit on metal. By the way, where’s your gun?

Criminalistics has it, sir. I popped a round.

The sheriff continued, Officer Randel, when I ran for reelection, I told my constituents that I would clean up downtown and the Naked City. They reelected me in November and I intend to keep my promise. Today is the first day of my new term. I asked the captain whom the person or persons were that would know the most about the Naked City and Fremont Street and he led me to you. Why should I think that you would know more than anyone else?

Sir, I’m not sure that I know more, but I do know the areas and the citizens and the players that make my area a hell hole. I know sir, because I’m on the streets every day and I talk with the merchants, the street people, and the elderly that still live in the area and need my help. I see victims of rape, assault, robbery, and burglary. I deal with dopers, dealers, prostitutes and bad guys every day. I have good sources because I am out there and I find the felons, murderers, gang-bangers and dealers. I make good arrests sir, but too many of them are back on the streets too soon. No offense Sheriff Morgan, but some of our judges are either too lenient or they don’t take our crime rate seriously.

Sheriff Morgan turned to my lieutenant, See, Lieutenant Germain, I said I needed a man that is out there, not someone who sits behind a desk. I think you’re right. Continuing, he reiterated, Officer Randel, I want you to help me keep my word to our citizens. I intend to clean up Fremont and the Naked City, and I intend to do it in thirty days. I want every prostitute off the streets, either in jail, or out of our city. Do I make myself clear?

Yes sir, but how do you expect me to accomplish that? I have some overall plans that I could discuss with you for the improvement of the Naked City, but sir, I’m not sure that you will like some of my ideas.

You tell me what you’re thinking and how many officers you’ll need and I am instructing Undersheriff Collins, the captain and your lieutenant to go along with what we set out to do. Tell me what you want and need Randel…, and Clay, he directed his eyes to the undersheriff, I want you to be the lead on this; give Randel what he needs, and deal only with the group here today.

Clay Collins nodded in affirmation as he looked at the four of us sitting at the table. Yes sir, Sheriff Morgan. Officer Randel, he queried, how many officers will you need to do the job? You can hand pick whomever you need.

I didn’t have to think long. Sir, first I would like Officer Sam Sikes from Adam area as my partner. That is if he’s all right. We’re a good team; we understand each other and work well together.

Collins picked up his phone and told his secretary to call Sunrise and to check on Sam Sikes immediately. We’ll hear about Officer Sam shortly. Any ideas on who else you can utilize?

Well, Officer Jeff Riley from Adam area, and Gray Senega from Baker area. They’re good men, we work well together, and that wouldn’t make any one squad too lean. I would like to keep my rookie, Officer Wells, and Sikes’ rookie, Officer Gilmore as our regulars and backups. I believe we can trust them and their training to keep things in line in our areas while we’re dealing with this. I need a female officer; Officer Roscoe will fill that bill. If you don’t mind sir, I’d like to clear all this with Grumpy, I mean, Officer Sikes, first.

Fine. Officer Randel, you are to start by taking every prostitute and every pimp off the streets and keeping them off the streets. That will be done in the next thirty days, or I’ll eat my hat. Then we’ll move on to other pressing issues one at a time, until we have our city back. Thank you all for coming and thank you, Clay, he gestured to Undersheriff Collins, for accepting this assignment. Have a good day gentlemen," he said as he rose to leave.

Standing, I expounded, Sir, I won’t let you eat your hat!

Morgan looked at me in affirmation and said, Thanks. I’ll hold you to that!

We all stood out of respect for this valiant and good man who had come up through the ranks and who cared about his position and all it entailed. This was a well-respected and dedicated officer; we all knew it and we felt honored to be in his presence. He shook hands with everyone before departure and as he placed his hand in mine, he looked at my left arm and shoulder. Good Lord, Randel, have you been injured?

I looked down at my shirt’s armpit and saw that it was soaked in blood. I guess so, sir. I wasn’t aware of it though. Must have happened when I was hanging on to that damned get-away car. I felt under my arm and felt something sharp poking out.

Lieutenant Germain, see that this man is transported immediately to the hospital. As a matter of fact, why don’t you drive him to Sunrise yourself and look in on Officer Sikes at the same time. Advise my secretary immediately about Officer Sam’s condition.

As the sheriff quickly opened wide the door, we could all see Lieutenant Dan Arnold hovering at the entrance. Sheriff, aaah…could I have a word with you sir, Arnold pleaded as if in self-defense. It appeared to me that he had been eavesdropping.

Not today Lt. Arnold; make an appointment with my secretary. Sheriff Jake Morgan strode respectfully toward the exit and called back, Officer Randel, you take care now.

Arnold spotted all of us standing closely together and expounded, Undersheriff Collins, may I speak briefly with you?

Not now Lieutenant, I’m conducting a private meeting. With that, he walked to the door and briskly shut it, as it were, right in Dan (Benedict) Arnold’s face. To himself, Clay Collins muttered, there is definitely something wrong with that man.

The captain offered, Well Sheriff Collins, I believe you’re finished with me for now, so I’ll catch up with Officer Randel tomorrow after you two have had a chance to talk. I’ll see you right after briefing, Rod. Keep me in the loop. Thanks. The captain opened the door and stepped out, colliding with Lt. Arnold. Hello Dan, how you doin’ today?

Nervously, Arnold asked, Captain, may I have a word with you?

Certainly Lieutenant, walk with me as we talk, he spoke pleasantly. What’s on your mind?

Well.., sir… we heard as they left. I could only imagine what Arnold might be telling the captain, and I smiled inwardly, chalking up another point for making him more distraught than I had ever seen him.

Undersheriff Collins stated, Lt. Germain, Officer Randel, I will speak with you in the morning, but in retrospect, I believe that the captain should take the lead in this operation so that we keep as close to the matter as possible. He is more accessible to you than I am. Not because that’s how I want it, but my duties make it harder. Believe me, I am one hundred percent behind you and will support you in everything. Now, Randel, off to the hospital with you. The undersheriff placed his hand on my right shoulder in a friendly gesture before we left, and thanked us both. Tell Officer Sikes to hang in there.

Just at that moment, Sheriff Collins’ secretary came forward and whispered to the undersheriff. He frowned morosely, then humbly smiled and told us to be on our way. He did not choose to include us in his secret.

Reality Check

AS LIEUTENANT GERMAIN AND I WALKED into the daylight, I remembered that I had left my patrol car parked in a no parking zone. I was not surprised to spot two chalk marks on the tires, as the meter molly’s marked parked cars, no matter what ones, when they drove past. However, I was surprised to see a ticket under my windshield wiper. Shit! Now I’ll have to go see the bailiff tomorrow and get the damned thing canceled. I removed the ticket and glanced at it and it was neatly signed by Meter Molly #47. Crap! #47 is Cobra One. That bitch struck again. I had to laugh though. That idiot was still ticketing everything, no matter what. Now I was certain that not only was she stupid, inept and ignorant, but that she was also certifiably loony. Sir, I entreated, can I have a minute to move my car before Cobra One tickets me again? I’ll just run it into the garage. Pick me up there.

Okay Randel, but hurry. I want to take care of that wound soon. Are you up on your tetanus shots?

Always sir! Thanks for asking.

On the way to the hospital I asked the lieutenant to stop by the drive-in for an ice tea. I remembered my last episode at Sunrise with no food and nothing to drink, and I sure as hell did not want to be caught in that position again. We pulled in and parked in regular parking, some of us still do that, and walked into the emergency entrance.

I went immediately to the desk and asked for Officer Sam Sikes. The triage nurse came quickly forward and directed me down the hall to a cubicle that had a tan curtain pulled around it. I could not hear any sound coming from the room and became very afraid that Sam didn’t make it. He’d better, or I’ll kill him!

As if on eggshells, I proceeded to the curtain and edged carefully around it. Grumpy was lying on the bed, draped with a blue blanket. There was no movement. I waited for a moment watching his chest for some sign of life. There was none. I stepped forward and gently pulled down the blanket, revealing his face. I jumped back. Damn, this isn’t Grumpy! What the hell’s the matter with this place? I didn’t ask for this stiff. I hollered, Nurse!

Take it easy Randel. We’ll find him, cautioned Lieutenant Germain. The nurse was right behind Germain. I’m sorry sir, I made a mistake.

You damned right you made a mistake. That’s not my friend. Where the hell is he?

Officer Sikes is in the next room, sir. Please lower your voice.

I hurried to the next cubicle and without waiting, tore back the blanket that was over the face. It was Grumpy! He was not breathing. In what seemed like forever, and at last, the cover moved as Sikes loudly exhaled. Thank God! Grumpy opened one eye as if peeking at me. Stepping forward and with Lt. Germain behind me, I touched his arm.

What the hell, exclaimed Grumpy, oh, it’s you Hawk. I thought you were my guardian angel. Did you kill that son-of-a-bitch?

Grumpy, buddy, how you doin’? Where did he shoot you? Are you gonna be all right?

Shit, he got me in the chest, just about at my heart, but I’m gonna be all right. You’re not gonna believe what happened.

Who’s taking care of you? Are you going for surgery? A million questions were formulating in my mind and I couldn’t ask them quickly enough. I stared at all the leads and wires that came from under the blanket, the IV pole with a needle stuck in Grumpy’s arm, his pale face and his down-turned mouth.

Scared you though didn’t I? Hee, Hee! Now I’m catching on! He heard me ranting at the nurse and covered his face. He was pulling my leg with his holding his breath joke, the dirty cuss. Sikes continued, But, nah, I won’t need anything. They’re probably goin’ to keep me for a couple of days, cause I have one hell of a bruise. Look at my shirt Randel, and tell me what you see.

I picked up his uniform shirt and handed it to Grumpy, who showed me his badge. Geez Sam, your shield has a damned bullet in it.

Yeah, ain’t that a purty sight?

You lucky bastard! Only Grumpy could have been so blessed. His shield had protected him as the bullet scored and was imbedded directly in its center. "Damn Sam, I thought you were pushin’ up daisies when I walked in here. You had me worried. Next time you pull something like this, damn