car.
“Delbert Rollins, Chief. Nice to meet you. You ain’t gonna believe this one.”
“What’s up?” Gerhart asked as he shook the hand.
Rollins continued to grin and motioned for the Chief to follow him. He set out at a brisk walk through the crowd. “You need to see this for yourself. I don’t want to spoil it. It’s great. This should happen more often.”
Gerhart followed curiously, wondering what to expect. Halfway between the mall entry and Bonmark’s, a crowd filled the passage from wall to wall. Rollins pushed his way through to make a path for Gerhart. When he reached a clearing in the center of the crowd, he turned to face Gerhart, snapped his heels together and waved a hand like the ringmaster in a circus. Gerhart stopped dead in his tracks and gaped at the two people in the center of the circle of onlookers.
A boy in his late teens lay on his back on the floor. Gerhart guessed his weight at 150 and figured him to stand around six feet tall when he was vertical. The boy’s eyes snapped back and forth, and sweat rolled down his face to puddle on the tile floor. The rest of him wasn’t moving a muscle. It was no wonder.
The tip of an aluminum crutch was jammed against his Adam’s apple so tightly that he had to scrunch his head back in order to swallow, which he did almost constantly. The crutch was held by a woman some five feet four inches tall who couldn’t weigh more than 120 pounds with a brick in each pocket. Her legs were splayed slightly apart as she balanced easily on the other crutch. She seemed prepared to stay in that position all week. Gerhart couldn’t help grinning as he stepped up to her.
“Ma’am, I’m Chief Kable. What can I do for you, as if I don’t already know.”
She swiveled her head in his direction, looked him up and down and then pointed her chin at the kid on the floor. “This twit tried to snatch my purse. It sort of pissed me off, so I whacked him on the head and hollered for somebody to call you guys.”
The crowd laughed and clapped loudly while the would-be purse-snatcher continued to sweat. When the noise died down, he rolled his eyes up at the Chief. He looked like a trapped rabbit.
“Please, sir, could I get up now? I have to go to the bathroom.”
The crowd roared with laughter and Gerhart motioned for the victim to let the boy up. The terrified lad stumbled awkwardly to his feet. Gerhart spun him around and cuffed his hands behind his back.
“Okay, buster, you’re mine.” Gerhart turned to the victim. “I assume you want to press charges?”
“Damn right. I didn’t keep this jerk nailed to the floor for ten minutes just to see if he’d evaporate. Should I come down to the station now or later?”
“Whenever you like,” Gerhart said, “but hold on a second.” He turned to the crowd that was beginning to disperse. “Did any of you see this action?”
Five hands shot up.
“How many of you saw it from start to finish?”
All the hands were hesitantly withdrawn except one.
“Come on over here,” Gerhart said to the remaining hand.
The crowd made way for a lady wearing a bright orange tracksuit with black stripes. Her gym shoes were green and her hair was somewhere between gray and blue. The tracksuit was large enough to garage a bass boat and was stretched tighter than a hooker’s jeans. The inhabitant of the suit stepped up to Gerhart and patted the victim on the shoulder.
“This is one tough lady, Your Honor,” she said, beaming up at them. “I was walking right behind her and saw the whole thing. This dummy,” she thumbed in the direction of the criminal, “ran up behind her and tried to grab her purse. But she had a good grip on it. When he yanked on the strap, she just leaned a little bit forward and smacked him upside his head with one of those crutches. Then, while he was staggering around, she whacked him in the leg and knocked him down. When he hit the floor, she whacked him on the ear again, and when he rolled
“Delbert Rollins, Chief. Nice to meet you. You ain’t gonna believe this one.”
“What’s up?” Gerhart asked as he shook the hand.
Rollins continued to grin and motioned for the Chief to follow him. He set out at a brisk walk through the crowd. “You need to see this for yourself. I don’t want to spoil it. It’s great. This should happen more often.”
Gerhart followed curiously, wondering what to expect. Halfway between the mall entry and Bonmark’s, a crowd filled the passage from wall to wall. Rollins pushed his way through to make a path for Gerhart. When he reached a clearing in the center of the crowd, he turned to face Gerhart, snapped his heels together and waved a hand like the ringmaster in a circus. Gerhart stopped dead in his tracks and gaped at the two people in the center of the circle of onlookers.
A boy in his late teens lay on his back on the floor. Gerhart guessed his weight at 150 and figured him to stand around six feet tall when he was vertical. The boy’s eyes snapped back and forth, and sweat rolled down his face to puddle on the tile floor. The rest of him wasn’t moving a muscle. It was no wonder.
The tip of an aluminum crutch was jammed against his Adam’s apple so tightly that he had to scrunch his head back in order to swallow, which he did almost constantly. The crutch was held by a woman some five feet four inches tall who couldn’t weigh more than 120 pounds with a brick in each pocket. Her legs were splayed slightly apart as she balanced easily on the other crutch. She seemed prepared to stay in that position all week. Gerhart couldn’t help grinning as he stepped up to her.
“Ma’am, I’m Chief Kable. What can I do for you, as if I don’t already know.”
She swiveled her head in his direction, looked him up and down and then pointed her chin at the kid on the floor. “This twit tried to snatch my purse. It sort of pissed me off, so I whacked him on the head and hollered for somebody to call you guys.”
The crowd laughed and clapped loudly while the would-be purse-snatcher continued to sweat. When the noise died down, he rolled his eyes up at the Chief. He looked like a trapped rabbit.
“Please, sir, could I get up now? I have to go to the bathroom.”
The crowd roared with laughter and Gerhart motioned for the victim to let the boy up. The terrified lad stumbled awkwardly to his feet. Gerhart spun him around and cuffed his hands behind his back.
“Okay, buster, you’re mine.” Gerhart turned to the victim. “I assume you want to press charges?”
“Damn right. I didn’t keep this jerk nailed to the floor for ten minutes just to see if he’d evaporate. Should I come down to the station now or later?”
“Whenever you like,” Gerhart said, “but hold on a second.” He turned to the crowd that was beginning to disperse. “Did any of you see this action?”
Five hands shot up.
“How many of you saw it from start to finish?”
All the hands were hesitantly withdrawn except one.
“Come on over here,” Gerhart said to the remaining hand.
The crowd made way for a lady wearing a bright orange tracksuit with black stripes. Her gym shoes were green and her hair was somewhere between gray and blue. The tracksuit was large enough to garage a bass boat and was stretched tighter than a hooker’s jeans. The inhabitant of the suit stepped up to Gerhart and patted the victim on the shoulder.
“This is one tough lady, Your Honor,” she said, beaming up at them. “I was walking right behind her and saw the whole thing. This dummy,” she thumbed in the direction of the criminal, “ran up behind her and tried to grab her purse. But she had a good grip on it. When he yanked on the strap, she just leaned a little bit forward and smacked him upside his head with one of those crutches. Then, while he was staggering around, she whacked him in the leg and knocked him down. When he hit the floor, she whacked him on the ear again, and when he rolled
Similar Books
