Vignette (335 hits)
Category: NoneRating: -0.63 on 12 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by John Kim (View user info) at 2008-09-23 19:39:55 EDT
When Travis watched his partner Rich walk out of the gas station minimart he didn't once take his eyes off the mechanic or make it appear that his attention waivered. The mechanic had already gone over the story once, but Travis was having him repeat it. Travis knew that a lot could be gleaned from the different ways a story was told a second time. But while he listened to the mechanic, and more specifically listened for different emphasis or contradiction, he watched his partner out of the corner of his eye.
Rich was carrying a brown paper sack in one hand and carrying a paper coffee cup in the other. He walked over to the blue and white Ford Crown Victoria behind the mechanic, opened the passenger side door, set his coffee into the cup holder, and left the paper sack on the passenger seat. Then he closed the door and walked over to Travis just as the mechanic was finishing the story for a second time. The mechanic held a small package of frozen burritos to his face. The sun was pleasant but not hot, and already the mechanic's hand was wet from condensation. Although the contusion was harder to make out on the mechanic's dusky complexion than it would have been on caucasian flesh, it was clear he was going to have a shiner.
"What should I do if he comes back?" asked the mechanic. "Should I get a gun?"
"I'm afraid I can't advise you one way or another on that," said Travis, trying not to sound indifferent. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his card. He handed it to the mechanic, who took it gingerly between two fingers. "Call me if you remember anything else," said Travis. "And if you see him again don't hesistate to call 911 again." Travis took a few steps to the car and Rich followed him.
"What will you do?" asked the mechanic.
"I'm gonna go look for him," Travis responded.
The two officers got into the patrol call. Travis logged the stop as complete on his MDT. The Mobile Data Terminal would send a short electronic message back to their precinct office letting them know that they had finished interviewing the victim and were leaving. While Travis finished on the MDT Rich opened the paper sack, took out a maple bar and stuffed half of it into his mouth. Then he took off the plastic lid to the coffee and dipped the other half of the maple bar into it before taking another bite. Travis was thankful to have the pungent odor of gasoline replaced with fresh ground coffee and a hint of maple syrup. He pulled his seat belt across his chest, never feeling it through his kevlar vest, and snapped it into place at his hip side.
"Why you get to eat like that and yet I'm the fat one is beyond me," Travis griped. Rich swallowed before he responded.
"I can't help the fact that I'm so sexy. Besides, you're not fat, just plump." Travis gave his partner a glance.
"Oh thanks, that sounds much better."
"Relax, you're a cop. Ladies cream over for cops." Travis was long desensitized to talk like that, and to Rich in particular. It took no effort for him to pretend he didn't hear it.
"Speaking of which," said Travis, "we ARE cops. So do you have to do the donuts and coffee thing? You only make it worse for the rest of us."
"I can try to give up the donuts, but this is the coffee central of the world. You're just gonna have to get used to it." Travis pulled the police cruiser back onto the street. He looked over at the MDT which already had the suspect's address on display. He let a car merge in front of him, then rolled his eyes as the two lanes of what was fast moving traffic slowed down to a slow crawl, centered around his car. No one wanted to drive too fast around a police car and especially no one wanted to pass one.
Rich finished his maple bar then said, "besides, what do you care? You're outta here tomorrow anyway. Nothing but sand and bikinis in Miami." He put his hands together like he was cupping something, but what that was supposed to represent Travis wasn't sure. "Gotta find yourself a nice sweet little mamacita down there for yourself, oh yeah!" Travis smiled.
"Should I tell them I'm not fat, just plump? Or should I just clip my badge to my shorts and be done with it?" Travis finished the coffee with one long drink then crumpled the paper bag and tossed it inside of the cup.
"So," said Rich, "what do we got?" Travis had worked with Rich for a long time and was not confused with the non-sequitir.
"Two gas station mechanics get into a fight at work. One guy punches the other guy out and drives off. We got the suspect's name and birthdate from the gas station manager. I punched that information into the MDT. Now we've got a home address and a make and model of a car."
"Nice," said Rich, swiveling the monitor so he could read it. "A red 97' Jetta? What did Habib get punched out by a soccer mom?" Annoyed with the trudging traffic, Travis flicked a switch on his dashboard and the police cruiser's full lights and sirens came to life. Slowly at first, but then with more urgency, the traffic all melted over to the right lane. Travis saw the old man driving the Integra in front of him look fearfully back at him through his rear view mirror. Everyone always thought they were getting pulled over. But when the Integra pulled off to the right Travis speed up, past the glut in traffic. He drove, with full lights and sirens on for a few more blocks, then switched them off as they headed into a more residential neighborhood.
Travis looked out the driver side window. It really was a beautiful day. How come it was gray and gloomy in Seattle for weeks and then, just before he was going to go on vacation it started to get nice out? He had no doubt it was going to rain for the four days he was going to be in Miami. He tried to enjoy the scenes of the neighborhood even while the cop in him pointed out the laws being broken. The Saturn behind him took a turn without yielding; an adult with a child crossed in the middle of the street, which was technically a violation of a city ordinance. He focused instead on the houses. The newer houses springing up between the older ones. The old brick architechture giving way to the more modern looking sidings. He noticed that the newer houses were bigger, which nicer fences, a sign that property value was going up. And as richer home owners moved in they upgraded their houses, or bulldozed old homes entirely to build newer larger ones. His eyes flicked back to a woman dressed in gray sweats standing at a bus stop.
"Did I just see?..." said Rich.
"Yep," replied Travis as he gunned the engine and made a hard U-turn in the road, bringing the passenger side right next to the bus stop. Travis turned the engine off and made it a point to take the keys with him. Rich was already out and both doors closed almost simultaneously.
"Well well well, if it isn't Jessica Rutledge," said Rich, moving his hands to his hips so that he could surrepititiously put one hand on his weapon.
Jessica was a caucasian girl, in her early twenties, on the taller side of average. She had thick, full straight brown hair that came down to her chin. Her hair had artificial blonde highlights streaked through it. She had a nice body, but the gray sweatpants and sweatshirt largely hid it giving her a lumpy, shapeless appearance. It was surprising attire given her choice of venue. Today Jessica had dark eyeliner and bright red lipstick. Rich called it ghetto paint that some of the gangster girls would put on. But underneath the foundation Travis could see her complexion was unhealthy and pallid Her body language was immediately submissive. She backed away two steps and smiled, her face flushed red.
"Hi officers," she said, her green eyes darting back and forth between the shorter, broader Travis and the taller but leaner Rich.
"And just what do you think you're doing out here?" asked Rich. Her eyes flicked to the bus stop sign, then back to Rich. Travis could already see she was making up a lie.
"I'm waitin for the bus, officer," she said. Travis took two steps over to the bus stop sign, putting himself between it and the girl.
"What bus are you catching?" Her eyes darted to the sign, then back to Rich. Another lie was coming.
"The fourteen."
The fourteen?"
"Yeah," she said nervously.
"How long you been standing here?" Another lie.
"A while," she chuckled nervously. "Only like twenty minutes." She nodded, as if that made it more true.
"And what time does the fourteen come?" asked Rich. He used the tone of a parent playfully interrogating a child after they'd been caught doing something naughty.
"Um," Travis knew already, another lie. Didn't she know how obvious she was. Why did she keep digging herself deeper? "Eleven o'clock," she said. Rich turned to his side to read the small print of the schedule posted on the side of the sign.
"Reallly?" he said. "Cause this here said the bus doesn't come until eleven-twenty." He looked at his watch for effect. "And in fact, it looks like the one before that came only a few minutes ago. If you've been here ten minutes, how come you didn't catch that one?" Now she looked caught. Travis watcher her eyes flick back and forth while she invented the next part of her lie.
"Oh, I must have just missed it."
"Is that a fact?" said Rich. She nodded, smilling nervously. She was a pretty girl, thought Travis, underneath the make-up and the pallid tone her skin had taken. It was too bad really. "Well what would you say if I told you that I've driven by three times in the last hour and I've seen you here the whole time." She looked around nervously. "You didn't see me, but I saw you. Now admit that you've been here for at least an hour."
"Okay," she said, her smile was very forced now. "You caught me." Rich feigned irritation now. Travis knew it was all an act, but for someone who didn't know him, it was very convincing.
"Jessica, are you prostituting out here again?"
"No officer," she said automatically.
"Then what are you doing out here?"
"I told you, waiting for the bus!"
"No you just gone and told me that you've been here for an hour. So you aint waitin for no bus." Travis noticed he picked up the same level of slang she was using. By speaking her own dialect, he would sound less foreign to her, and more genuine. Or at least tha was Rich's theory. "You better not be prostitutin out here!"
"I'm not!" she protested, sounding more upset because she knew they were on to her.
"I'm gonna go now, but if you're here when I get back I'm gonna put you in the back of this car," said Rich. It was an empty threat. She could stay at the bus stop all day and they couldn't touch her.
"Okay she said," another uneeded piece of proof that she was guilty. Rich pointed at her, again feigning irritation.
"You better not be here when I get back," he warned. "I don't want to see you walkin the streets anymore unless you're on your way to a legitimate, legal job."
"Okay officer," she said. Rich opened the passenger door and got back into the car. Travis took a step closer to the girl, automatically falling into the good cop role to Rich's bad cop.
"Listen sweetheart," he said, with honest concern. "You take care of yourself." He pointed to cars that were driving by on the street. "You don't know what any of these guys might do to you. You're a good girl. A nice girl. You don't need to do this stuff. Okay?"
"Okay officer," she said, in the same tone she spoke to Rich. She was already walled off now. Her responses were automatic. It was useless.
Travis got back into the car, put on his seatbelt, and started the engine. Jessica was already walking away. She looked back at the police cruiser twice, as if they were going to change their minds, burst out of the car, and arrest her after all. Rich noticed his partner's eyes linger.
"Hey man," he said, "I don't think you have enough penicillin to poke that one." Travis shot him a glance of true annoyance.
"Knock it off," he said, careful not to raise his voice and give the other more ammunition.
"Ooh," chuckled Rich. "Looks like I hit a nerve. I think you really do need this vacation. To let off some steam."
Travis drove to the apartment complex of the suspect, Gunther James Moyer. He pulled the police cruiser into the parkling lot, his eyes were drawn immediately to the red Jetta parked in the spot reserved for apartment six.
"That's our man, right" said Travis. "Apartment six?" Rich looked at the MDT monitor.
"Yep, apartment six," he confirmed. Travis parked the cruiser long ways, across the back of the Jetta. There was a car to either side of the Jetta, and a wrought iron fence in front of it sectioning off a small garden area. That car wasn't going anywhere. They got out of the police car and Travis put his hand on the Jetta's hood. It was still warm. Both officers looked and saw that the door to unit six was up one floor, but the stairs were all outside. Rich pointed for Travis to take the left side of the stairs and then headed for the right. If the suspect came out the door there would be no direction he could run. Both officers instinctively drew their weapons, sneaking as best as they could up to the doorway. There were no bystanders, no one watching them, at least not yet. They go to the door at the same time. Travis thought he saw a swish of movement in the blinds but he wasn't sure. Rich knocked firmly on the door. There was no answer. Rich hit the door bell a few times and then waited. Still nothing. Finally, he knocked on the door even harder.
"Police, open up," he shouted. Some people thought it was an order, and that they had to comply.
They both waited.
Nothing.
The suspect either knew better than to open the door, or maybe he was too scared. Or maybe he really wasn't there. Maybe a friend picked him up. Maybe the gas station manager called him as soon as they left. It could be anything. But without a warrant they couldn't kick the door down. And they could hardly justify this was hot pursuit since neither of them had actually seen the suspect before and they only had a description of him from the victim.
It was almost noon; almost quitting time for their shift. First shift ran from four in the morning till noon. It was on purpose, so the police weren't changing the watch during rush hour. They would pass their notes on to the next two officers to inherit their car after they punched out for the day. Maybe those two officers would find Gunther James Moyer. Or maybe they wouldn't, and if they had free time tomorrow they would find him then. But then Travis remembered he was catching a plane tomorrow. He was on vacation at last! He looked at the metal numeral six screwed into the door.
If the Seattle Police were going to find Gunther James Moyer, it would be without Officer Travis Borcelli.
User Reviews
Submitted by scourge (user info) at 2008-09-24 13:27:03 EDT (#)
Ranking: -1
http://www.clickykeyboard.com/2005/keycaps/keys-099.jpg
use it motherfucker
Submitted by orphelia (user info) at 2008-09-24 13:14:22 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Dear, is this a joke?
Submitted by sandmantate (user info) at 2008-09-24 13:03:46 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
OK, I read this and... wow... I HATED IT! Is this dude in the 3rd grade?
I hope that this is an alter.
Submitted by Method (user info) at 2008-09-24 12:47:52 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Step right up, folks!
Witness Jack McCallum prepping another alter to vote for him in his fixed contest!
Submitted by kaos-king (user info) at 2008-09-24 02:00:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by The_Cyst_Master (user info) at 2006-06-28 10:55:55 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
OH YES THE FUCK STAINS OF HUMANITY BURN MY URETHRA SO GOOOOOOOOD!
http://www.ubersite.com/m/37531
Submitted by Doodles (user info) at 2008-09-23 23:45:06 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
learn how to format fucktard.
Submitted by Hookhand (user info) at 2008-09-23 22:25:15 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
I'm going to read this. Honest
Submitted by sandmantate (user info) at 2008-09-23 21:39:22 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
Didn't read it.
Submitted by Snark (user info) at 2008-09-23 20:41:45 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
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Submitted by Cyrus (user info) at 2008-09-23 20:35:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
That is one big-ass block of text dude.
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2008-09-23 20:29:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Shlongy (user info) at 2008-09-23 20:10:25 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
NEEDS FEWER PARAGRAPHS.