Because he was a controlling, abusive, jerk I
told the detective who had played the controlling, abusive jerk. (I may actually have said he was a jackass). It was a J-word. Wrong.
She never once told either of us that he’d hit her. She told the same
story about falling. Lie? Yes. Jerk? Yes. Danger? Yes. But, we had
nothing to go on. Frustrating? Yes. Based on a real scenario? Yes. The
comic relief scenario was the couple who were loudly celebrating their
anniversary by playing quarters. She had dropped one and fell off the
chair retrieving it. When the officers arrived she was a mess. But there
was no abuse going on, just a “good” time. I’m guessing til the morning
anyway.
Then we
were taken to the hallway where, two by two we entered a dark bank of
offices. While waiting we heard a lot of screaming from classmates who were trying out their investigative knowledge. A lot of screaming.
We were the third group in. When we entered we had to choose left or
right. As we did so, way back in the dark, dark hallway a man screamed.
“Come on! Come and get me!” He threw a knife at us and disappeared into
the darkest room I’ve ever seen. While we decided whether to move forward to
capture him, or back to look for other bad guys another man jumped us from
behind and stabbed us. Apparently we did some screaming, or so the
officer who was our tour guide hooted, several times.
Since we’d
barely gotten through the door, the overseeing police officer, after
laughing hysterically for several moments, resurrected us so we could
apprehend ourselves a crazy bad guy. Yeah. Thanks, Officer Ron. So we
stealthily checked each room. High and low. In and under. Finally. No
one else jumped out at us, and faced the last room. The darkest room had to be
the place the crazy guy hid. We opened cupboards, looked under the
table, crept around the outside parameter. Finally, we faced the
midnight black double door closet. One door yawned open spilling the
inky darkness that nibbled up all the light from our feeble flashlights.
I looked carefully over my shoulder and gripped my rubber gun a bit
tighter. A clang rang out from the silence followed immediately by a
couple of blood curdling screams and snickers. Glad someone was having
fun. I took charge and motioned my partner right and I went left and
tried to jerk the door open. Locked. She screamed, “Come out with your
hands up!” More clanging and the closet spilled the knife throwing
monster. “Get down! Down on the floor!” Thankfully, he complied. I
shrieked “Is that a knife hanging out of his pants?!?” The helpful
Officer Ron, AKA Officer Giggle, said, "Secure the suspect, search him
for weapons!"
Poor &
started patting him down. After removing the obvious large knife in his
jeans she found a switchblade. Finally, when the suspect groaned. “I’m
not a bongo.” she stopped. Success…except for the unfortunate knifing
early in the incident…and the screaming like little girls...at least I
didn’t wet my pants. I can hold my head up.
So,
citizen’s of my city and the surrounding ones. Be very grateful that I
am not one of the city’s finest, and be grateful for the ones you have.
2 comments:
written like a true Sue Grafton novel, full of suspense and horror and the ridiculous. Good job. mom
Well, thank you, Mother. Ha. ha.
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