A blond fireman, standing in front of the detectives, mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for breath before his brain could formulate words. "You're absolutely nuts!"
"Fellas, we're sorry and realize this is a shock to you," Hayes tried to calm the men. "Unfortunately, it's true and we need to take Gage into custody.
The fireman bristled, the white bandage on his forehead emphasized the stark colors of a bruise peeking out. He took a breath glancing backwards at Gage then back to the police officers. "I'm telling you, you're making a mistake." With his right hand pointing to his chest and one finger bouncing off the mid-section of his chest with each word. "I. AM. ROY. DESOTO. AND. I. AM. NOT. DEAD."
Hayes and Sawyer blinked not comprehending the words. Desoto repeated them at a normal tone.
"I have no idea where you got your information, but I'm still alive. And there is no way my best friend would ever commit murder, and definitely not MY murder." Roy informed the visibly confused detectives. A cacophony of voices from the rest of the firemen demanded the police were in the wrong.
A fourth man exited the office, placed his fingers at his lips whistling shrilly. Once he had everyone's attention, "Gentlemen, I believe we have some confusion here."
"Lieutenant Crockett, why are you here?" Hayes asked while looking over at his boss. This was getting worse by the moment. He'd lost control of the situation which his superior witnessed.
"Interviewing victims of a mugging, John Gage and Roy Desoto. Why don't you explain your reasons to be here," the tall detective requested although both junior detectives understood it was an order, not a request.
"We just left a murder scene where a man wearing a county paramedic badge and name tag of R Desoto died. His dying declaration was that his partner shot him. Although he didn't get the name out completely enough was heard to determine the suspect to be John Gage," Hayes explained keeping one eye on his suspect and the other on his boss.
"When did this shooting occur?" Crockett asked with a raised eyebrow.
Moving his left sleeve upward Sawyer verified the time on his watch, "Nearly an hour and half ago, sir."
"As I've worked a couple of cases with Gage and Desoto, I can verify the man in front of you is Roy Desoto. For the past two hours I've been with John Gage. In fact, at the time of your shooting, I was interviewing him in this office. I'd say his alibi is solid." Crockett exchanged glances and recognition of what probably happened dawned simultaneously on Captain Stanley and Chief Miller. "Gentlemen, I believe we need to have a private conversation." He pointed his right index finger out to the front of the fire station. Both Hayes and Sawyer dutifully followed.
Roy stared dumbfounded at the detectives, and then realized in all the voices Johnny didn't speak. The pounding in his head making his thoughts slower than usual, but his reaction times nearly normal as Mike cried out.
"Johnny! Johnny, I got you," the engineer lowered Gage to the ground as the paramedic swayed losing his balance.
"Johnny! What's going on?" Roy's alarmed response rang out as he reached for his partner. Gage was laid out on the ground in a dazed state with sluggish replies.
"When they first accused him of murdering you, he got real pale. Thought he was going to pass out cold that's why I got behind him," Stoker said moving out of Roy's way. He retrieved the oxygen and started a moderate flow with a nasal cannula on the collapsed fireman.
Instantly the drug box and biophone appeared next to Roy thanks to Marco and Chet. Removing the blood pressure cuff, he fixed it to his prone partner's right arm. "Johnny, come on. Tell me what's going on?" Finishing the reading, he shook his head, the numbers low, too low even for Gage. "Did you get hurt on the call earlier?"
Gage's half opened and confused eyes tried to make contact with Roy's eyes. The senior paramedic expertly ran his hands over his partner searching for hidden injuries. His patient hissed in pain as hands crossed the left side of his ribs. Desoto lift the shirt to reveal a deep red, swollen, angry bruise about eight inches in diameter in a jagged pattern.
"How'd that happen?"
"I don't know, Cap," Roy answered. "He didn't say anything while we were at the hospital."
"An ambulance is on the way," Captain Stanley said stepping back out of the way.
Roy hadn't even heard the Code I still alarm being radioed into dispatch. He picked up the biophone, which someone had already plugged in the antenna. "Rampart, squad 51. How do you read?"
"Loud and clear 51, go ahead," a somewhat confused Doctor Joe Early answered. Hadn't he taken Desoto off of duty for the day?
"We have a fireman down, twenty-seven year old, blood pressure 84/56, respiration 18, pulse rapid and weak. Skin is cold and clammy to touch. There's a large hematoma on the left lateral ribcage with significant bruising. We have him on six liters of O2." Roy rubbed the top of his bandage, the tape beginning to itch.
"Start an IV with D5W, maintain oxygen, and repeat vitals in five minutes. Transport as soon as possible," the disembodied voice of the neuro surgeon floated over the radio.
Roy repeated the orders as Chet pulled out an IV kit, opening it, and placing it next to the paramedic. Desoto pumped up the blood pressure cuff talking calmly to Johnny as he expertly started the ordered fluids.
"Roy…shot…," Gage mumbled as he closed his eyes; the events of the morning playing over in his mind.
At 8:37 AM the squad pulled into the warehouse district. Being Sunday, most of the buildings were empty. As they came to the address an auburn haired man waved them down pointing to a sandy-haired man sitting on the building's steps.
"Hurry! My buddy has asthma and can't catch his breath," the man said standing by the driver's side door, before the paramedics even had time to open the doors.
"All right, it's going to be all right," Gage tried to calm the panicking friend. As he exited the passenger door, he stopped in his tracks. The 'patient' was holding a gun to his chest. "We're just here to help. Don't want any trouble."
"And help is whatcha gonna do. Move over there," the lighter haired man said indicating the driver's side of the squad. Gage complied and saw the other man had Roy at gunpoint as well. They shared a knowing look. They weren't the first team to be robbed.
"What's your names?" the dark haired man asked.
"I'm Roy Desoto and this is my partner, John Gage," Roy stated standing next to the squad door and Johnny in front of the truck.
The sandy haired robber looked back and forth from one paramedic to the other then with a gleeful voice said, "Look at their shirts!"
"Yeah. Yeah. I want the shirts," his partner proclaimed eyes enthralled.
"Our shirts?" Gage blinked in confusion. There goes my uniform allowance again.
"Yep. Both of you take your shirts off," the 'patient' ordered waving his gun between the men.
"We really don't want any trouble here," Roy started then found the gun shoved in his face. He slowly began unbuttoning his blue uniform shirt.
"What type of drugs do you carry?" Sandy haired asked, and the paramedics began to wonder if he was the brains of this operation.
"Stuff to treat heart attacks, difficulty breathing, and IV solutions if someone needs fluids," Roy said removing his shirt. The blond man grabbed both shirts.
"We should put 'em on," the darker haired man said with a grin as his accomplice agreed. "Watch 'em." He stuck his gun in his belt as he pulled his t-shirt off and then put Gage's shirt on and buttoned it up. Once finished he held his gun on both men as the other man put on Desoto's shirt. They grinned at each other, obviously enjoying a private joke. Neither paramedic wanted to know what the joke might be. "Now we're paramedics," the man's grin took over his entire face.
Hardly, Roy thought, his face remaining unemotional. A shirt doesn't make a man.
"Tell us about the good stuff, not the crappy medicine. How much do you carry?" The lighter hair man demanded.
"Not much," Johnny answered.
"Well why not?"
"In case we get robbed. We're not allowed to carry more than a few doses," Roy said. He wanted this over without anyone being injured.
Both assailants looked disappointed. "We'll take what you have."
"You really don't want to do this," Roy started and stopped as the gun barrel dug into his temple.
"Get down on your knees," the auburn robber commanded, he pushed the gun harder into Roy's temple until he did as directed.
"Gage, you show me the drugs," the brains of the pair said waving his gun at the paramedic.
"They're over there," he indicated the passenger side of the squad.
"Move!"
Gage stepped around the front of the vehicle trying to keep an eye on his partner, but lost the line of view. He opened the compartment to the drug box and pointed to a black box.
"Open it." He did as instructed holding the case so the man could riffle through the contents with one hand pulling out ampoules.
"All these cases and fours all you got?"
"They're holding out on us!" auburn declared. "We should shoot one. How about I blow away this one?"
"We're not holding out. That's all we're allowed to carry! We can open every case and you can look for yourselves," Johnny said hoping to avoid anyone being shot. His training kicking in they should never reveal a supply run to Rampart would get them more morphine. That would invite a hostage situation, and endanger more people.
"Pasadena had six! They're lying," the one wanting to shoot's anger rising. Roy's face meet the gun on the robber's right arm downswing with the sickening sound of flesh being torn.
"Owww…" Roy held the side of his face feeling the warmth of blood oozing out. Stars danced in front of his eyes.
"Roy! You okay?" Johnny desperately wanted run to his partner. Auburn shook his head no telling Roy not to answer his partner.
"That one says trauma. Traumas gotta hurt. Open it up," Gage's mugger demanded pointing to the larger case.
"Okay. Okay." Johnny took the box out, laying it on the ground and opening it up. Under the squad he saw that Roy was sitting back on his legs, which meant he was conscious.
"Bandages!" The thief's disappointment evident; he began throwing items on the ground from the opened boxes. "Where are the other two?"
"The county only allows us to carry four. Every department makes their own rules," Johnny answered getting more nervous from the agitation showing on the man's face. Normally, they carried six vials also, but the previous shift had used two and they needed to do a supply run. This call came in before they got to Rampart. When Brice and Bellingham were robbed a month ago, four vials of morphine were taken then too, and Gage wondered if this pair were the same robbers. No one was hurt in that robbery, so why were the robbers more agitated today?
"I don't believe you!" The man was getting restless walking around peering into the compartments. "What's that one?"
"An OB kit. We use it when a woman is gonna have a baby."
Blond robber's back was to Gage as he ran a hand through his hair. An ambulance siren wailed in the distance. "Sh… cops!" Turning around, he picked up the trauma kit and slammed it into Gage's ribcage making him hit the side of the squad. A shot rang out from the other side of the squad, and both muggers raced toward their waiting white bronco.
Johnny's lungs refused to work as he tried to force air into them, black spots skipping in front of his eyes as he sank to the ground. Roy! His partner was prone on the asphalt unmoving. Diaphragm allowing some air into his chest, he pushed himself off the ground half crawling and half walking to his partner.
"Roy?" The blond paramedic lay face down with blood pooling by his head. A strong heart beat met Johnny's fingers as he slid them over his best friend's carotid, and he let out a sigh of relief. He reached into the squad grasping the handy talkie. "LA, Squad 51. Need police assistance and an ambulance for a Code I. Fireman shot."
"10-4, 51 police and ambulance responding."
Roy turned over slowly, the loudness of the gun going off at close range, and the bullet creasing across his forehead had his ears ringing viciously. He could only hear the sound of his own heartbeat.
"Stay down," Johnny's worried face appeared above him.
Current time
A Mayfair ambulance pulled into the apron of Station 51, and Hal the attendant opened the back doors pulling the stretcher out. Johnny was packaged up, and the engine crew lifted him up into the patient compartment of the ambulance.
"I'll ride with them," Crockett told his detectives and received an approval nod from Captain Stanley. The situation was worse than he let on, but Crockett had to see this out. When this was over four detectives would be lucky to have their jobs. He kept his face neutral climbing into the ambulance.
Captain Stanley stood in front of the two remaining detectives with arms crossed. "I take it that no one under my command is going to be arrested today?"
Detective Hayes sheepishly shook his head no.
"I'm the Battalion Chief responsible for these men, and I want a detailed accounting of what occurred. Start explaining," Chief Miller ordered crossing his arms to match his subordinate's stance.
Joanne had four whole hours to herself, the kids were with friends who lived two streets over. Once a month each mother traded kid watching duty, to have a few hours to themselves. She decided to take a long hot bubble bath heading toward the bath when her doorbell rang.
"Hello," she said opening the front door.
"Mrs. Roy Desoto? Joanne Desoto?" She nodded her head at the men in suits. "I'm Detective Joe Trembly and this is my partner Officer Bill Vietti. May we come in?"
She stepped back to allow the policemen into the house, with her heart in her throat. If Roy had been hurt, the fire department would have come for her, she kept repeating to herself. She led them to the living room and everyone sat down. "How can I help you?"
"Mrs. Desoto, I've very sorry to have to tell you, but your husband, Roy Desoto was murdered earlier today," Detective Trembly informed the shocked housewife.
Tears streaming down her face, "How?"
"John Gage shot him."
Her world came crashing down.
