Car 48A Chapter by Cherrie Palmeryou cannot always spot the good, from the bad
“Mrs. O’Keefe, Ma’am please don’t send me with anything else. The sandwiches are plenty.” The young officer lifted his hat, running his fingers through sandy hair. “I have a long shift ahead of me, and prisoners.”
“Oh, a little snack will do you good, and theses brownies will be the best you've ever eaten.” Her words worked in harmony with her actions as she plucked the little brown bag from his hand to add the brownie.
“Thank You Ma’am.” Trying to escape the mother hen he then turned to Marion. “I’ll be sure and report to Corporal O’Keefe, about what's happened. He’s furious, that he couldn’t come himself, the eastside is going crazy. I'm sure he'll be by later," more like any second he thought. "I've got to get the subjects to intake and get back in-service,” the young officer, shook Marion’s, hand and with a goodie bag, and two in tow, headed out.
Considering his next move, he keyed his mic: “Car-48 to Central, fishermen’s wharf checked all clear, show me 10-7 (off duty).
Ed nodded toward the front seat, “Be a good lad and grab my hat.”
To T.J.’s surprise the young officer did just that. He grabbed the fedora, then opened-up the backseat door where Ed waited.
“So, kiddo what’s next?” Ed’s words were playful and inquisitive as he stood to face the young officer.
The young man’s uniform a velvety black shined against the night snow. Slowly he reached back over his left hip, moving his hand past his revolver then removed his cuff key and freed Ed, who rubbed his wrist then hugged the boy. “I’ll never forget this son.” Pete handed his uncle the key.
“You should make Dad’s your next stop,” He said then started walking back to the driver's seat.
Ed leaned down to looked T.J., in the eye. “Well, are you coming?”
T.J. scooted out of the backseat. Car-48, backed out of the alley to drive away. Break lights came on, and Pete pulled back into the alley. Pete, motioned, for his uncle. Ed opened the passenger side door, and leaned in.
"Can you tell me why... why Tony? You know as kids we were friends."
"I know you were, and I'm sorry about that. I wish I could tell you, but I can't, too much at stake for us both."
Pete and Ed held a look for a moment, Ed closed the door, patted the roof, then Pete drove off.
T.J.'s hooked a sharp smile a raw expression that lacked emotion, "You could'a told him the golden rule. Never bite the big dog unless you want'a get bit... I guess everyone but Tony knew that," a heatless sound echoed off the walls. Sounds that the little man called laughter.
A lightning hand let an open hand smack T.J. upside the head, "Shut-up, big mouth."
A palm-print flashed red just like T.J.'s eyes. A full smile fanned his face, and he grunted at Ed as he shrugged to rein emotions, but said nothing as he rubbed the spot.
“What," Ed said sharply tilting his head, as he offered T.J. a challenge, "nothing standing in your way but air and opportunity,” Ed said flatly.
************************************************
“Hello, in the house.” He bellowed as he quick stepped inside.
Both parents stepped aside revealing Fern, a porcelain beauty, with freshly washed raven hair and doe eyes. She wore several cuts and bruises, along with his mother’s galoshes and a mud crusted dress and despite the trouble he smiled.
“Well, I have this sweet girl, Fern. Who saw, a murder! A murder, my lad, that’s what I have. I'm thinking you have a crook with a gold star pinned on him. Stealing your thunder. By the way, the man in the brown suit, Big Ed Matthews. I’ve seen his photo in the papers.” Marion said with a twist of his head. “And he’s an excellent boxer, I might add.”
“Come to think of it that young policeman didn’t wear a name tag.” Marion told Jamie.
“How about everyone grab a coat and let’s go downtown for a statement and look through some photos.” His tone warm like a good son, but everyone knew a command once given.
Jamie, called dispatch from his parent's phone giving orders he did not want broadcasted over the radio. They all road together with Fern in the front seat, she told about the young man, she watched die, how the two men chased her to the O’Keefe’s.
Her cheeks filled with color as she described the epic clash she witnessed. She finished off the tale with: “Your dad has fits of stone.”
Jamie fought the urge to smile, then keyed his mic: “Central, has Charlie-8 reported back?” Charlie-8, Louise Steelman a lifer the men would say, and a good friend that walked a beat near the park.
© 2020 Cherrie PalmerAuthor's Note
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Added on April 24, 2017Last Updated on September 15, 2020 AuthorCherrie PalmerSpringfield , MOAboutI am a published poet and love poetry. After a lifetime of country living, I'm making a move back to town. I find my surroundings a great inspiration to me. I also have two books on Amazon Kindle: .. more..Writing
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