The plainclothes detective shifted nervously in line. He had felt his partner's eyes boring in on the back of his neck as he entered the Walgreens. Basha's was out of the cupcakes and wouldn't have another delivery until at least tuesday. He would slip in to the drugstore, take a quick glance at the moto cross magazines and be out in a flash. He knew that he had violated a cardinal rule of the stakeout - the need to keep a critical safe distance from the suspect. But he thought for sure he could be in and out in a minute.
Unfortunately there were three other people in line ahead of him and it wasn't moving. The cashier with the caked on blue eyeshadow gazed absently past him while the customer in front fumbled in his pocket for loose change. People that buy their liquor cheap from drugstores are a special tribe and one that could be quickly distinguished by the shake in their hands and the tremors in their voices.
The detective felt keenly aware of his alien presence in the store. His starched clothes and new tennis shoes stood out in contrast to the skimpy and worn attire of his fellow customers. He might as well have held a neon sign that flashed the word cop. His partner was surely having conniptions in the car. "My god", he sighed to himself. It was bad enough to be paired with a minority but this one was a domineering bitch as well. Coming from Orange County, he hadn't had a lot of experience with black people. But he had to admit that he felt strangely attracted to this woman. As a red blooded male, he knew that he could get the hots for any woman that he was trapped in a small space with for hours on end. It was only natural, right?
Of course, he had a new girlfriend back in Barstow. He had met her at the Sandees diner and she was a lot of fun. They would go to Tommy's tonight if he got back in time for a double cheese and then walk hand in hand through the outlet mall. Anything to be out of the heat. Maybe they would even talk about playing house and her moving in to the apartment. Just as an experiment.
The detective's daydreaming was rudely interrupted by the cold shock of a Smith and Wesson 38 calibre snub nose revolver jammed into his left rib. It was turning into a very bad day, indeed.
Robert Sommers
1 comment:
Anyone who wants to write a page is welcome to join in on this. Free up your artistic mind and have fun. Email submissions to blheron@pacbell.net. I will respect your anonymity if you request it. I will edit your spelling if necessary. Thanks, Robert
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