Chapter 4

Ironside's POV

It was past midnight and I was still sitting at my octagonal table which was, as so often, covered with documents, files, dossiers. I rubbed my neck. It was still awful sore, but I was more or less used to that.

As long as we could not completely rule out the Mexicans I had to look for possible Mexican suspects. Since the wristband was rather short the culprit had to be a small or lean person, and probably a youngster, since very few older people wore this kind of recognition sign. Still there were many of them... too many. Therefore the dossiers piled up on the table. There were different causes for that. The most important one wasn't their fault at all: Mexicans often got discriminated against when it came to being employed. Many of them were jobless. Young men wanted to work – needed to - otherwise they might more likely become criminal. Moreover their southern temper sometimes let them get into brawls more easily than others, and the police in turn wasn't likely to let them get away with it.

My contemplations were interrupted by the ringing of the phone. It was the Commissioner. "Bob, we have some kind of a riot around Dolores Park. A basketball team mainly of Mexicans played against a white college team. They lost, and now they are rampaging. They accuse the referee of unfairness. The police are already there, but I would like you and your team to be ready to question the people they bring in."

He was right: there might be a connection to the theft of the signatures.

As soon as he hung up I dialed Ed's number. He had to be home by now, since Fran had called me long ago to tell me that they had no new results and that they were calling it a day.

After the eighth ring I was rather angry when he finally answered.

"Sergeant, I need you here instantly!"

He was bright enough not to ask me if I knew what time it was. He didn't sound sleepy. Why hadn't he answered immediately?!

Ok, on second thought – he'd hardly had a minute to himself while I was in the hospital*. He deserved a little time off. But when I needed him he had to drop everything, and he knew that.

"Give me a minute, Chief..."

He sounded rather embarrassed. What in blazes did he need 'a minute' for? Except - if he had a girl with him!

To be honest, when I was Ed's age... no, I didn't want to think about what I was like at his age.

"Tell her a job is a job!" I shouted, not too gently, "and ours needs top priority - always, under any circumstances. Crime doesn't wait until we have the time to take care of it!"

Ed's POV

I stared at the handset. What was he talking about? Fran might be new on our team, but there was no doubt that she knew the Chief's position very well.

Shaking my head I hung up.

I had to hurry... it would take me quite some time to get to the office by bike. Fortunately I always kept my old two-wheeled steed in good condition, even though it was hardly used anymore.

Cycling full speed I thought about my boss. Probably he was in pain. He should have gone to bed long ago! Wasn't Mark there to help him get undressed? More likely he insisted on staying up. It was very hard for him to accept that he had to take things easier after his stay in the hospital. He was such a tough guy, but he had me worried. What if he overexerted himself – once too much?

When I arrived at the underground garage at headquarters Fran was just pushing the button of the elevator. Wordlessly we stepped in. By the time we reached the top floor my breathing was more or less back to normal. However...

Fran's POV

"What took you so long?!" shouted the Chief when we walked down the ramp.

I had taken the detour via Greenwich Terrace to pick up Ed, only to find out that he had already left his apartment. But I would not tell this to Ironside if I could help it.

I was spared an answer since he noticed immediately that Ed was all sweaty, although he wasn't wearing his jacket. Probably he didn't even need to see the forgotten bicycle clip on his pants to figure out the truth.

"Sergeant! If you can't come up with a very good explanation for the state you are in you will be busted down to patrolman faster than you cycled here!"

Ed took a deep breath. I felt my face turn red.

My colleague told the story, and I had to admit that he did it in a very objective way. He even took the blame for us splitting up in the first place. He'd thought that we might get on faster that way.

"And the thought didn't occur to you that Fran, being half Mexican herself, might be in danger?"

"Well..."

"I don't look very Mexican, so maybe there wasn't that much of a danger," I defended him.

"Do they know your name now?"

I had to think about it. In retrospect I recognized that Ed had carefully avoided using it. I had been too angry to be that cautious with his.

"No, but they have mine," answered my colleague in my place, and it sounded almost a little rebellious.

"Blast! Now you will have to watch over your shoulder until this mess is cleared up."

There was a knock at the door. Ed answered it.

A young Mexican was brought in by two colleagues from downstairs – obviously one of the rioters from the basketball game.

"Sir, we were lucky. One set of fingerprints on the wristband Sgt. Brown asked to be examined yesterday belongs to this man."

The two officers left immediately. He wasn't the only person arrested tonight.

* S5 The Gambling Game

Author's note for the DG fans among my readers:

Together with "Hamlettethedame" I wrote a WHN to the 1967 movie "Gunfight in Abilene" with Bobby Darin and Don Galloway. You will find it on this website in "Misc. – Misc. Movies" (or via my profile). The title is: "Aftermath in Abilene" .