Mike

 

   Being my usual pit stop, I gassed up at The Lakeside Deli on my way home. I pumped the gas and went inside to pay my bill. It was a beautiful sunny day, hot but not unpleasant. There was no one in the store except for Kelly, the busy body cashier. The deli was closed for the night but Kelly could get me something if I needed it.
“Hi Bill!” she greeted when I walked in.
   I handed her a fifty dollar bill and grabbed a Snickers bar from the display on the counter. “Five quick picks for the Powerball please.”
   Kelly took the fifty, handed me my Powerball ticket and reached for the Snickers bar. She didn’t scan it but put it back in the display saying; “You don’t need a Snickers, it isn’t part of your diet,” poking me in the stomach like I was the Pillsbury Dough Boy. “You’re having Shepherds’ pie for supper tonight.” she grinned.
“Shepherds’ Pie?” I asked with interest. “So Sue came in earlier huh?”
“Yeah that and a Cranberry Apple pie too.” She answered handing me my change. “Ellie made it special for you.”
   I picked up the Snickers again and Kelly snatched it away from me and put it back in the display. “Go!” She pointed at the door with a frown.
   I walked out the door and noticed a Ford Taurus that had just pulled up in front of the store. It was noticeable because there was no front plate, an expired inspection sticker on the windshield and less than legal tread on the front tires. I looked at the guy getting out of the Taurus; he was the typical longhaired, un-shaven local yokel. He was too far away to bother holding the door for him so I let it go and continued on the way to my Blazer and got in the driver’s seat. I picked up the microphone and called dispatch to log off duty, my shift was done for the night.
“One fifty to Williston.”
“Williston, one fifty.”
“Ten, forty-two”
“Williston, one fifty, roger ten, forty-two at eighteen zero six, good night.”
   I put the Blazer in drive and started to pull away from the pump. As I started moving I glanced to the left and saw Kelly through the window, standing there with her hands up. “What the hell is she doing?” I thought to myself and quickly realized that she was getting robbed! I drove around behind the store and stopped on the far side, grabbing the microphone. “One fifty, Williston!”
“Williston, one fifty.”
“Robbery in progress, Lakeside Deli, US seven and Lake Street, responding units switch to State Channel two. Plain clothes officer on scene.”
“Williston, one fifty, roger,”
   I knew dispatch would call the local police to handle it; all I had to do was wait for the Calvary to show up. I got out of the Blazer and took my portable radio with me, drawing my Combat Commander as I moved in toward the blind side of the building. I knew better than to confront the suspect alone if I didn’t have to, I thought it be better to wait for back up. I knew from my training and experience that it would be wiser to confront the suspect outside as he‘s leaving, getting the drop on him and having the advantage instead of trying to go in after him.
   I peeked around the front of the store and I saw the town’s unmarked Ford Explorer turn into parking area in front of the store. My friend Mike was at the wheel. “That was fast.” I thought to myself. I checked the radio to be sure I was on channel two, the statewide car to car channel, and keyed up calling “One fifty to seven thirty six.”
“One fifty, seven thirty six!” I repeated.
“One fifty, seven thirty six!” I repeated again.
“Seven thirty five, one fifty.” Another voice answered. It was Peter, another town officer
“One fifty, Seven thirty five. I said.
“Seven thirty six just went ten seven for dinner at the Lakeside Deli.” Peter told me.
“S**t! He’s walking into a robbery!” I announced as I ran for the back door. When I rounded the corner of the building; I heard the unmistakable sound of a gunshot. My heart skipped a beat as the rush of adrenaline flowed through my body.
“One fifty, shots fired! Officer needs assistance!” I yelled into my radio. The back door of the deli was unlocked and I entered stealthily. I found Kelly on the phone screaming to the 911 dispatcher that Mike had been shot and they had better show up real fast! I entered through the kitchen and saw Mike on the floor, on his back with a pool of blood growing beneath him.
“He went out the front!” Kelly yelled at me, I stepped over Mike and out the door I ran. I saw the Taurus tearing out of the parking lot and I fired seven rounds at it, blowing out some of its windows. The pistol locked open after the seventh round, I pressed the magazine release, not bothering to try to catch the empty magazine, I slammed a fresh magazine into the pistol and thumbed down the slide stop just as the Taurus went out of sight up Lake Street.
“One fifty, seven thirty five, white Ford Taurus, West bound on Lake Street, Mike is down! Mike is down! We need rescue! Suspect is armed!” I went to check on Mike and found Kelly holding her hand over the entrance wound trying to stem the flow of blood. The nine-millimeter hollow point hit just above his vest, ripping a hole right through him. A nine-millimeter hollow point bullet makes an entrance wound about 3/8 of an inch across, and expands as it passes through human tissue, to leave an exit wound larger than a half dollar, tearing out everything in it’s path. I could tell by the amount of blood on the floor that he wasn’t going to be with us much longer. I knelt over him and heard him gurgle the name Cindy; his wife’s name. He closed his eyes for the last time. With a heavy heart combined with rage; I stepped out the door and keyed my radio. “Peter. Mike doesn’t look good. Get that prick!”
“Roger that!” he replied.
   Another town car pulled into the store; I cleared my Combat Commander and handed the officer the magazine, the loose round from the chamber and finally, the pistol. “I got off seven rounds then reloaded. I blew out most of the windows, I got a good look at him.”
“How’s Mike?” He asked.
“Never had a chance!” I told him.
   We went into the store and Kelly was crying over Mike’s lifeless body. “He’s dead!” She told us.
“Did you get a good look at him?” The officer asked Kelly.
“Bill walked out, then he walked in. He went to the cooler and when he came to the register; he had a ski mask over his head and a gun pointed at me!” Kelly told us hysterically. “A gun like that!” She said, pointing at the Glock on the officer’s duty belt.
   The officer gave me back my Combat Commander and took a statement from me. A short time later Peter came back with a suspect in the back of his car. “I went all the way to Lakeshore Drive and never saw the Taurus but on the way back; I found this kid walking up the road. I didn’t remember seeing him on my way out, so I stopped and asked him about the Taurus. He said that he’d been walking for an hour and never saw anyone go by. Then he broke off a piece of Hershey bar and popped it in his mouth while he was talking to me. So I patted him down, no gun, no ID, just two hundred thirty eight dollars and two Hershey bars.”
“So why bring him back here? You think it was him?” Kelly asked.
“It’s eighty-five degrees out,” I explained to her. “If he were out there for an hour; he wouldn’t break a Hershey bar, he’d lick it off the wrapper!” I walked outside and looked at the kid in the back of Peter’s Crown Vic. “That’s him!” I said without a doubt.
   About an hour later, a woman called to complain that she had come home to find her garage door closed and a strange car full of bullet holes in her garage. We went to check it out and found the white Ford Taurus I had shot up sitting in this woman’s garage. The car was stolen and the plate on the back of it was stolen from another Ford Taurus. There were no fingerprints tying the suspect to the car. The neighborhood was searched and the pistol was found; a Glock 17, 9mm in a storm drain. Once again no fingerprints were found, the gun had been wiped clean.
   After some calculating, Kelly came up with the amount missing from the register, $238. Not much to build a case on but with my eyewitness account; we’d be able to convict the piece of s**t who took my friend’s life so gratuitously.
   We were able to piece together the probable events that took place that evening. The kid took off after shooting Mike and with me shooting out the windows of the car; the kid looked for a place to ditch it. He pulled into the first open garage he saw and closed the door, walked away just as Peter flew by looking for the suspect in a white Taurus. The kid dropped the Glock down a storm drain and continued to walk up the road until Peter came back and found him strolling down the road.
   We pulled the video from Peter’s Crown Vic and found no trace of him walking down the street on the video from Peter’s drive up the street. The kid’s story totally fell apart when he broke off a piece of the Hershey bar in the heat of that day.
   When I finally got home, Sue was waiting for me at the kitchen door, “I’ve been listening to the scanner, how’s Mike?”
“Mike didn’t make it.” I told her. “We need to go see Cindy.” 
   Sue and I drove to Cindy’s house and sat with her most of the night. She fell apart and her son Michael was trying to be strong for her. Michael is only fourteen years old and Cindy was going to need him to be a man. I couldn’t help thinking how tragic this situation was and how it totally sucked.
   Mike and I had gone to school together, we enlisted into the military and gone through basic training together. I went on to become a helicopter pilot, Mike went to school and became a flight mechanic. When we went to war Mike was my crew chief, we kept each other alive.
   After the war we came home and went into law enforcement, Mike joined the town department and I joined the State Police to fly helicopter.
   Mike was buried with full honors; he even got the rifle salute. It was a very sad day, Cindy fell apart again and Michael tried to hold it all together for his Mom. I arranged a fly over by the Air Guard, four F-16 fighters in the Missing Man formation. Mike had served his country and community well over the years, being awarded most of the commendations available. Only to die at the hands of some piece of s**t for two hundred, thirty-eight dollars and a couple of candy bars.
   The Piece of S**t who robbed the store and shot Mike was promptly put on trial. The little s**t cleaned up well, obviously trying to change his appearance to be more respectable looking.
   Piece of S**t sat in court with his lawyer, all decked out in a suit, and claimed to be an innocent victim. Convicting Piece of S**t rested solely on my testimony, having witnessed him getting out of the car at the store; I was the key to his conviction. The State’s Attorney put me on the witness stand and asked if I saw the perpetrator in the courtroom. Without hesitation, I pointed at Piece of S**t and said; “That’s him in the blue suit, at the defense table.”
   The defense lawyer made every effort to make me look like an a*s. “How far away was the man you saw getting out of the Ford Taurus?” He asked.
“Twenty feet.” I replied.
“Twenty feet…” He repeated with skepticism in his reply. “How long did you look at him?” He asked looking at me like I was the defendant.
“Ten seconds.” I answered truthfully.
“Ten seconds...” He repeated with the same doubting smirk.
“You saw a man from twenty feet for ten seconds, and you can identify him without a doubt?”
“I saw him for ten seconds from twenty feet away, and that’s him!” I said pointing at the defendant. “Without a doubt.” I added with my own sarcastic smirk.
“Isn’t it possible that you could be mistaken, simply because you saw the defendant in custody after he was picked up walking down the road?”
“No.” I replied with assurance.
“No?” He repeated. “It isn’t possible?”
“No! What part of ‘No’ don’t you understand?” I asked impatiently.
“I find it hard to believe that you can identify a man, without a doubt, from twenty feet for ten seconds.”
The State’s Attorney stood up but I beat him to it. “Is that a question?” I asked. “Would you like me to demonstrate my ability to identify someone?”
“I’m asking the questions!” The defense lawyer said.
“Then ask one!” I told him.
   The Judge snickered; I could tell she was amused by this.
   The defense lawyer said, “Your Honor, I have no further questions for this witness.”
   The State’s Attorney was on his feet, “Re-direct Your Honor?”
“Granted.”
“Mister Smith, you offered to demonstrate your ability to identify someone. I’d like to see that.”
“Objection!” Piece of S**t’s lawyer shouted.
“Overruled! I’ll allow it. Mister Smith?”
“May I change places with the State’s Attorney for a minute, Your Honor?”
“You may. Remember that you’re still under oath.”
   I stepped down from the witness stand and asked the State’s Attorney to have a seat. I faced him, with my back to the courtroom, “Look at the courtroom.” I told him. He looked at the courtroom beyond me. “The seating section of the courtroom is divided into three sections, left,” I pointed toward my five o’clock. “Centre, directly behind me and right,” I pointed toward my seven o’clock. “Each section is separated by the two isles; the centre section is ten seats across, twelve rows. Each of the side sections is eight seats across, twelve rows. He was counting the rows.
“That’s correct.”
“Pick an occupied seat and tell me what section, row and seat you’re looking at.”
“Centre section, forth row, left end seat,” The State’s Attorney said.
“White heavy set male, light blue shirt, dark blue jacket, stripped tie. Crew cut, clean-shaven. Right handed, judging by the watch on his left wrist and the cut of his jacket covering the pistol under his left arm.” I glanced at the Judge. “A police officer I presume. Pick another seat.”
“Centre section, fifth row, second seat from the right.”
“Empty seat. Pick one that’s occupied.” I told him.
“Right section, third row isle seat.”
“Cute blond woman, gold framed glasses. Black pin stripped suit.”
   The defense lawyer stood up, “Objection! Your Honor, I fail to see the purpose of this demonstration!”
“You’re the only one, counselor! Overruled.”
“Your Honor! The witness sat on the stand for over fifteen minutes looking at the courtroom. It doesn’t prove he can identify someone with only a ten second look.”
“Your Honor, I can identify someone with only a ten-second look, if it will shut him up. Ask the bailiff to go out and bring in someone to stand behind me for ten seconds.”
   The Judge was enjoying the show and called the bailiff to approach. “Go out of the courtroom and bring in someone at random to stand there.” She pointed. Almost a minute went by before the bailiff returned. “You’re on Mister Smith.”
“Does someone want to measure the distance?”
“The defense will stipulate the distance is about twenty feet, Your Honor.”
   I handed my watch to the State’s Attorney, “Tell me when to go and stop. No more than ten seconds, please.” I glanced at the Judge; she was watching me when the State’s Attorney said go. I turned to look; I started with eye contact and went to her shoes and back to her eyes. Then I turned back to the State’s Attorney. He was still looking at my watch.
“Stop.”
“White woman, about thirty-six years old, hazel eyes, light brown hair just below the shoulder, diamond stud earrings, diamond pennant on a gold twenty-four inch chain, black pocket book on a single strap over the left shoulder, gold watch on left wrist, gold wedding band on her left ring finger, gold anklet on her left ankle, five foot six inches tall, in four inch black pumps, putting her at five foot ten inches, about two inches less than the bailiff standing next to her. She’s wearing a floral print dress with twelve white buttons down the front, the top two and bottom three buttons are open. Asymmetrical hem about three inches above the left knee and three inches below the right knee with a gold chain belt. Suntan pantyhose, light brown eye shadow, black eyeliner, peach lip gloss to match her fingernails.”
“Mister Smith! I’m impressed.” The Judge looked at me smiling. “Is defense counselor satisfied with the witness’s ability to identify the defendant?”
“We are Your Honor.” He mumbled.
“Bailiff, she may go. The witness may step down, if the State’s Attorney has no further Questions?”
“Nothing further Your Honor.”
“Recess for lunch. Re-convene at one PM.” She rapped her gavel.
“All rise!”
   I took Cindy and Michael to Friendly’s for lunch. The restaurant was almost across the street from the courthouse and everyone except the defendant and the jurors were there. We got a table and sat, the restaurant was almost full with the lunch crowd and the people from court. I saw the judge come in looking for a table and I waved to her. She came to our table and I stood, “Please join us? Your Honor.”
“You’re a unique person, Mister Smith.” The judge said. “There’s at least twelve people in this place who work for me and none of them would invite me to sit with them.”
“Nothing wrong with being polite, as long as we limit our conversation.” Your Honor.
“Where did you learn or develop that talent you displayed in court?”
“In the military, I worked with intelligence. Your Honor.” I told her.
   The Judge declined my invitation and sat at the next table.
   After lunch were the closing arguments. The jury was out for about an hour. The jury came back with a guilty verdict. Piece of S**t was going to get a lethal injection. Too good for him, in my opinion. He should be strapped into the electric chair and have Cindy and Michael come in to play with the rheostat. Play with the power until they get bored and then turn it up to “Extra crispy.”
   Cindy cried and hugged me then I drove her home to start her new life as a widow. When I got home, I walked into the kitchen and asked Sue. “What’s for supper?”
“Pot roast.” She told me.
“What were you doing at the courthouse today?” I asked her as I pecked her cheek.
“John asked me to drop off some papers at the clerk’s office. Care to explain why the bailiff took me into the courtroom so you could look at me and describe what I was wearing to the court in intimate detail?”
“Maybe later.” I said. 
 

Reviews

[Jet Lag]

another awesome story. love how you titled him "piece of s**t." lol!

[JC]

Oh I do love a suprise ending...

Great flow. I like how most of the stories you write are set in what would be considered ordinary towns but with unsual circumstances. It keeps the reader engaged.

JC

[RaindropsRoses93]

Guess I mis-spoke. this was the story I read. I love the story as I do all your others. Keep writing skip I look forward to your new stories!