"A Distemper shot wouldn't be a bad idea, considering." Jim was on a roll and there was no sign of him letting up on his partner. Desperation turned into inspiration; He knew how to divert Jim's attention.
"How about seven? Pop's told me that Duke wants us to stop by". Pete, an experienced angler, paused for ten seconds or so before continuing. "Wouldn't a chili cheeseburger hit the spot? Call it in, will you?"
"Don't think you're going to distract me with food, unless you're paying." Jim's grin said it all; he knew he had Pete cornered. Pete huffed and agreed to pay for dinner. Jim grabbed the mic and requested the code seven.
"1 Adam-12, continue patrol and handle this call. Possible 211 in progress, Sherman's Liquors, 1357 Comstock. Respond code 3." Routinely, the partners didn't chat while responding to a call. Each would be readying themselves to deal with whatever came.
Pete cut the siren off as they neared the store then parked the squad car out of sight in a side parking lot. The partners were familiar with the store's layout so there was no need to plan their approach. Pete would position himself by the front door, Jim at the back. They would hold their positions until back-up arrived, unless the situation changed. There were two robbers inside, a tall black haired man and a blonde woman. The siren of a passing ambulance spooked the pair into running out the back door; totally forgetting the money they were asking for.
Jim hadn't gotten into position when the 211 suspects burst through the back door. He yelled for Pete and took off running after the man; leaving the woman to Pete. Malloy's first thought at seeing his partner chasing the man was that Jim had left him the easy one. That was a mistake.
The young woman ran like a gazelle. She leapt over a short wall and wasn't slowed down by it. As he passed the fourth intersection, Pete was getting closer, but he was also looking around for Reed and the squad car. He thought he had her when she ran into the backyard of a small ranch house. The property in back was lined with very tall bushes. "Got Ya." Pete slowed slightly to avoid barreling into the girl, who dropped onto all fours and scooted under the line of bushes.
Determined to not lose her, Pete tried an old baseball move. How many times had he tried to slide headfirst into second or third base, arms held in front as he attempted to grab the bag before being tagged out? He was lying in the dirt, the braches of the bushes scratching him, but he also had gotten hold of one of the girl's ankles. Now, he was stuck. She screamed and attempted to kick him in the face with her free foot. Dodging the kicks kept him from crawling out on her side and putting her under arrest.
"Hey Malloy, do you need help or do you want us to leave so you two can keep playing footsie?" Pete recognized Rich Cushman's voice. That meant that the other set of shiny black shoes belonged to Phil Keating.
"Very funny, Cushman. When are you resigning to do stand-up?" A sarcastic comment was all that question deserved. Besides that, Pete was rapidly losing his temper because the young woman was still trying to kick him. She let loose with a string of vile curses and insults. It was when she questioned Pete's parentage that he lost it.
"Take her now, Rich, before I let her loose on you." Cushman had squatted down to see Pete and his laughter died in his throat. Malloy looked mad enough to wring his neck. To his credit, Keating took the girl by the arm, lifting her off the ground and stopping her attempts to kick Pete. Once she was handcuffed, Pete drew back under the bush and stood up.
"Give her her rights and transport her back to the liquor store. Reed and I will handle the report and booking her and her accomplice." One glance at his uniform was enough to let him know that there was no way to dust this off. The shirt was muddy and had been snagged on the branches; both knees were torn open. At least he didn't have to walk back. Jim had finally arrived with the squad car.
Reed was leaning back against the side of the car in a perfectly clean uniform, arms crossed over his chest. Pete growled at the smirk Jim gave him.
"Look at your uniform. You just had to go and play in the mud, didn't you?" Jim was scolding him the same way he did his son, which did nothing to improve Pete's mood. Once he was close enough, Jim reached over to pull a twig from Pete's hair. The older officer scowled and grabbed Reed by the wrist.
"Touch me and you die!" At that instant, Jim almost believed him. Now was not the time to mention to Pete that he had a slight limp to his walk or that his knees were bleeding. Pete opened the right front door of the car and got in. He stared up at his stunned partner.
"Are you gonna get in and drive or do I have to hitch-hike back?" Jim could hardly believe that Pete was volunteering to ride shotgun. Pete was notorious for his stubborn insistence that he did the driving; only allowing Jim to drive the minimum amount of days. This change in his friend concerned Jim more than anything and he wondered how much more Pete could take. They rode back to the liquor store in silence.
By the time they arrived back at the liquor store one of the back-up units had taken down all the information needed for the report. In addition, Cushman and Keating had elected to transport the prisoners for them. Reed found out all this while Pete continued to sit in the passenger seat drawing stares from the officers still on the scene. Jim knew they were curious, heck, so was he, but that rain cloud hovering over Pete deterred anyone from asking questions.
Once they arrived back at the station, Pete headed towards the locker-room to change. He grabbed a fresh uniform from the dry-cleaning rack and walked to his locker. He detoured slightly, long enough to wet a handful of paper towels that he could use to clean his knees. Pete laid the uniform on the bench while he dug in his pocket for the key to the locker. Eventually the entire contents of all his pockets were spread out on the bench.
Pete was opening the locker when he heard the door open and close. He shook his head; instinctively he knew he didn't want to find out who came in. The sound of approaching footsteps almost hid the sound of his clean uniform sliding off the bench and onto the floor. Pete bent down on one knee to pick up the uniform. While he was already half-kneeling, Pete glanced heavenward and spoke out loud.
"Are you having a boring day up there God? If you have nothing better to do, can you at least shift your attention to someone else?"
"What kind of a prayer is that?" It was Murphy. What did he want now?
"One born of desperation Sarge." Pete stood up and hung his uniform in his locker. He undid his tie; tossing it into the locker. That he could clean. His shirt was beyond help. In frustration, he jerked the shirt open, sending a spray of buttons in Murphy's direction. The sergeant backed up a little, but didn't stop watching Pete.
"I would do a striptease for you Sarge, but there's no music." It was a snarky comment, but Pete felt no compulsion to defer to the still staring officer. He removed his badge, name plate and shooting brass, adding them to the coins and keys on the bench. He dropped the shirt on the floor. After removing his utility belt, which he hung on the locker door, Pete unsnapped the top of his pants
"Do you mind? Unless you really need to watch me, I would like a little privacy." He couldn't help it; Murphy was starting to give him the creeps. He wished the man would get to the point or leave.
"Don't mind me. I was wondering what you did to have destroyed your uniform that badly. I can read it in the report." Murphy was half-way out the door when he suddenly turned around.
"Now I remember. I didn't want to post a message for you. It's no one else's business, really." The guy's hemming and hawing wasn't helping Pete's mood any.
"Spit out Murph, so I can get changed in peace." Murphy's eyes had taken on a "deer in the headlights" look. Clearly he was wary of delivering the message.
"Some woman called and wanted you to call her back." Pete knew the name without asking, but he asked anyway and Murphy confirmed Pete's assumption.
"She said her name was Judy."
