Copyright statement: This is an original work by the two authors. Any resemblance to any person, living, dead or fictional, is unintentional and coincidental. The writers retain all rights to this work, and the copyright may not be infringed.
Cops and Robbers
By Linda Garrick
Revised and edited by Nancy Smith
I
Inspector Tyler Brown of the New York City Police Department, glanced up from his desk as Captain Glen McGarffey entered the room. The Captain was accompanied by a short slender young man dressed smartly in a business suit. The McGarffey rapped his knuckles on the nearest desk and addressed the assembled detectives. "Can I have your attention a minute?"
The rest of the room's occupants looked up.
"This is Detective Madison, who's just been assigned to this precinct. Madison, these are Detectives Peters, Brown, Sanders, and Sergeant Phelps." The introduction, characteristic of McGarffey, was brief and to the point. "Phelps will show you around and get you oriented." He nodded to the muscular police sergeant occupying the desk across from Brown.
"Yes sir," Phelps said. He stood up, loosening his collar. The day was unbearably hot, typical of New York in Mid July, and, as expected, the air conditioner had gone on the fritz the week before. The maintenance crew was on strike, and, although a backup team was working on it, no one really expected prompt results.
McGarffey left the room and Phelps nodded to the new arrival. "Howdy. My name's Guy. We're sort of informal here--everyone but the Captain, that is, and he doesn't care how we talk to each other, as long as we're civil."
The newcomer was hardly more than a boy, Brown thought disgustedly. He looked about seventeen, in spite of his tie and business suit. He smiled, the action removing about three years from his already absurdly youthful features. He was good looking, in an innocent, boy-next-door sort of way--not the type to do well in a tight spot. In fact, if it hadn't been for another cop of the same caliber, Mary might still be alive.
The familiar pain and guilt jabbed him and he bent forward, looking down, without seeing the paperwork on his desk.
"I'm Randolph," he heard the kid saying. He had a young voice, too--a boyish tenor that fitted perfectly with his features. Again Mary's face flitted before Brown's eyes and he seemed to hear the stammering voice of the young fool who had caused her death. A wave of absolute loathing for the newcomer encompassed him.
"My friends call me Randy," the newcomer continued.
Randy, Brown thought. A really wimpy name, too. It fitted the little idiot perfectly.
Phelps was speaking. "Okay. This is your desk. The officer over there is Bev Sanders."
"Hi," Madison said, smiling again. He smiled too much, Brown thought.
"Hi, Randy." Bev returned the smile, obviously charmed by the boy's youth and innocence. Brown looked away in disgust. "And this is Ty, over here--Tyler Brown, I mean. He's the big shot here, except for the Captain."
"Hello." Brown up to meet Madison's eyes. They were bright blue, setting off his inky black hair to advantage. He smiled, looking a little shy. "Nice to meet you, sir."
Brown growled a greeting and watched the boy's smile fade. Madison looked quickly at Phelps, and Brown saw the frown flicker across Guy's usually jovial features. He didn't care. Mary had been all that mattered in his life, and now she was dead--dead because of an idiotic fool of a cop, who had panicked in an emergency...
Phelps was introducing Madison to the other members of the precinct, who were greeting him cordially. Brown turned his thoughts back to his work, Mary's face still hovering in the background.
He was in the restroom perhaps an hour later when he heard Guy Phelps enter, accompanied by young Madison. They were discussing him, and he remained quiet in the stall, listening.
"...It's 'cause of his wife," Guy was saying. "She was killed two months ago in a bank holdup at the First National on Lexington. You probably heard about it. The crooks took her hostage and tried to run. A rookie cop was on the scene. He...well, I'm not sure of the details, but I think he tried some heroics. The crooks killed her and got away."
"Oh." Madison's voice was subdued. "I see."
"Yeah. He's pretty bitter about it. They'd been married about five years, and she was expecting their first child to boot."
"Oh man!" Madison's voice was hushed.
"Of course, in a situation like that there's a thousand variables," Phelps continued slowly. "You really can't blame the young cop. He did his best, and of course he was real upset by what happened."
"But that doesn't bring Brown's wife back," said Madison slowly. "I'd have been furious with him if I was Brown."
"Ty almost killed him," Phelps said. "They transferred him to another precinct afterwards--at his request. Ah, well, we've all made our share of mistakes. Most of 'em weren't as bad as his, though. How old are you, kid?"
"Twenty-two."
"No kidding? You look younger."
"Yes, I know."
"You passed the exam--but, of course, you must have or you wouldn't be here. Look, don't let old Brown get you down. He was a great guy before Mary's death, and it takes awhile to get over something like that...what's wrong?"
There was a hesitation. Then Phelps again. "There's no one in there, is there? That door's busted. It always looks like it's occupied --" His voice trailed off and he swore under his breath. "Ty, are you in there?"
Brown opened the door and came out, glaring at Phelps. Guy stepped back, looking worried and embarrassed. "Sorry, sir, I didn't...I mean...dammitall, sir, you had the kid upset. He thought you didn't like him. I was just trying to explain about...well, you heard the whole thing. Ease up, will you?"
Madison was looking embarrassed as well. "I'm very sorry, Inspector," he said quietly.
Brown went past them and washed his hands. Phelps tried again. "Look, Ty, you don't have to be such a bear about it. I know Madison looks something like the rookie who messed up, but that's not his fault, and --"
"Guy --" Madison sounded worried. "I'm very sorry, Inspector Brown. I asked him about you. It was my fault."
Brown jerked paper towels from the vendor, dried his hands, balled up the towels and flung them savagely at the waste vent. It was a long throw, but they vanished neatly down the opening as usual.
"Nice shot," said Guy weakly. "Look, Ty..."
Brown stalked out of the restroom.
**********
It was a blazing hot day in late August when Brown and Madison were assigned together. Perhaps McGarffey had sensed the hostility Brown held for the other man, or perhaps Phelps had told him, for the Captain had never put them together before. All the other detectives liked him, Brown knew. He was pleasant to be around, had nerves of steel, an instinctive ability to deal with difficult people, and a cool head in any bad situation. Bev was in love with him, as were most of the women in the other offices, even though most of them were half a head taller than he. Madison dated occasionally, but for the most part kept his private life a secret. Brown had learned through the grapevine that Madison, too, had been married, but that his wife had died suddenly three months after the wedding. He had been only seventeen at the time.
The knowledge did little to lessen Brown's resentment. If the girl hadn't died, the marriage would undoubtedly have ended in divorce anyway. Seventeen-year-olds had no concept of the commitment involved in marriage, and puppy love healed quickly.
It was Thursday when the event occurred that was to change his attitude forever. A call came in, reporting a robbery in an apartment building downtown. This was hardly an unusual occurrence in that section of the city but, since it was the manager's apartment, they had been called. Ten to one nothing would come of it, Brown thought cynically, and if they did manage to find the thieves it would most likely be some of the guy's own tenants. All the other detectives were either out to lunch or already on calls, and McGarffey told them to take it together. Perhaps, Brown thought resentfully, the Captain had decided that their estrangement had been tolerated long enough, and that it was time they learned to work together. He could just as easily have assigned one of them with a uniformed cop.
Brown drove, staring straight ahead, his attitude not improved by the heavy traffic and muggy heat. Madison made one or two attempts at conversation, then also lapsed into silence, staring straight ahead. Their destination appeared at last, and Brown brought the car down before a dilapidated building. The clouds overhead had thickened, and a few drops of rain appeared on the windshield. Brown set the brake, got out, and headed for the doorway at a brisk walk. Madison hurried up beside him and they mounted three stone steps to a doorway.
The door was broken and hanging ajar, revealing a flight of steps and a dingy hallway beyond. The walls were thick with graffiti and dirt. The place smelled, and cockroaches skittered away from their feet as they entered.
Madison paused, placing a hand on his sleeve. "Wait a minute, sir."
"What?" Brown made no attempt to conceal his annoyance. What a hellish day! He wanted to get the thoroughly routine job over with and he sure didn't want to be slowed down by a nervous pup who might grab his elbow at a bad moment. "Look the manager's in the apartment at the head of the stairs. Let's get this done with."
Madison let go of his sleeve, looking apprehensive. "I don't like this, sir. We're walking into trouble. I think we should call for a backup."
"What for?" Brown's own voice grated on his ear. He knew he was being a jerk and didn't care. "We're here to investigate a robbery. I don't see any need for a backup."
"But..." Madison was looking up the filthy stairway, his brows drawn together and his gaze curiously intent. There was something disconcerting in his attitude, and in spite of his common sense, Brown felt a little tug of apprehension. He shook it off and led the way up the stairs. As they approached the landing, a scream echoed down the corridor. Brown drew his blaster and started forward at a run, Madison close behind him.
Another scream. It was coming from behind a closed door, which apparently opened on one of many apartments that made up this building. Brown reached the door and knocked, moving quickly to one side as he did so. "Open up! This is the police!"
"Help!" The scream came from within the apartment--a woman's voice, wild with terror. "Help! He's going to kill me! Help! Help!"
Somewhere in the background a child was wailing thinly. Brown glanced at Madison, and for just a moment their eyes seemed to lock together. Brown knew that Madison was thinking exactly what he was thinking. It was in situations like this that many cops got killed. Still, they couldn't ignore the situation, danger or no.
Brown stepped in front of the door, lifting a foot to kick it in. Madison moved almost in the same instant, lunging sideways and catching Brown in the ribs. The impact flung him to one side, just as a blaster report sounded near enough to make his ears ring. A huge section of the door burst outward with the force of the bolt. Madison yelped, spinning away to slam hard against the opposite wall, his blaster spinning across the corridor. The kid was gripping his shoulder, and beneath his fingers the material of his tunic smoked and curled.
A man burst through the mutilated door. In one hand the fellow clutched a blaster, which he swung to cover Brown. He was clad only in a pair of sagging, filthy jeans, and a bristle of beard covered his jaw and upper lip.
"Don't move, pig." The words were slurred. "One twitch an I'll blow you away." He chuckled hoarsely. "Might anyway."
Brown didn't move, his eyes fixed on the speaker. Madison also remained frozen, one hand still clutching his shoulder. Their assailant jerked the blaster. "Drop your piece, piggy," he said to Brown.
Brown let the weapon fall.
"Now in--both o' you." Again he gestured with the blaster. "Move it, pigs."
Typically, Brown thought, no one in the other apartments was bothering to investigate the noise. No one wanted to get involved. He got to his feet and bent to help Madison. Their assailant laughed crazily. "Roast pig -- my favorite main dish. Move! Inside!"
Brown got Madison to his feet and half carried him through the door, cursing himself silently that he hadn't taken the young man's advice earlier and summoned a backup. How the devil had Madison known it would be needed?
They entered a filthy, littered room, dimly illuminated by a cheap lighting cell imbedded in the ceiling. The man followed close, the blaster never wavering. Against one wall a woman crouched, blond hair straggling over neck, her face dirty and smeared with blood from a cut beneath one eye. A small child was standing in the doorway, sobbing and clutching a rag doll to her breast. The man kicked the door shut, and now, in the improved lighting of the room, Brown could see his pinpoint pupils and sickly color. His thin, sinewy arms were spotted with needle punctures. A bottle of cheap whisky, three quarters empty, stood on a table in the center of the room, and another lay on the floor beneath the table. The place reeked.
"Over by the wall!" their captor ordered.
Brown helped Madison over to the designated spot, then let his companion carefully down. Madison leaned back against the wall, taking a long breath through clenched teeth. The woman screamed again as the man approached. "No! No! Get away!" She got to her feet and clutched Brown around the neck. He could smell whisky on her breath. "You're a cop, ain't'cha? Don't let him hurt me! Stop him!"
"Shut up!" the man bellowed, and the words were followed by an explosion of profanity. He reached out and caught her by the hair, dragging her forward. "C'mere, slut!"
The child screamed and vanished into the other room. The woman struck uselessly at the man as he shook her violently, shouting threats and curses at her.
Madison spoke suddenly, his voice weak but somehow carrying over the noise. "Mr. Naughton, please don't do that!"
The man paused, staring at him. "Whatcha say, piggy?"
Madison straightened up and his charming smile appeared. "I know how infuriating women can be. I'm married, too. But, after all, men are much smarter. We have to make allowances for their stupidity."
Their captor gaped at him, releasing the woman, who sank to the floor, whimpering. "Whatcha do when yours gets outta hand an' drinks half your whisky, huh?"
Madison's smile broadened. "Oh, I've lost my temper a couple of times, sure, and she remembers it when I do. But then I just learned to hide the whisky. She's too dumb to find it. Women aren't worth getting worked up over, I always say."
"Damn right!" The man kicked the woman aside and strode over to the table, picking up the bottle.
Madison sighed. "You know, Chet, sometimes I think the Jils have the right idea about women. We Terrans treat 'em as equals, and it just gets us in trouble."
The man laughed and swigged from the whisky bottle. "You can't be a cop, kid. You got too much sense."
"Thanks." Madison smiled modestly. "I think you're pretty okay, too. Can I have a drink?"
"Huh? Oh, sure." The man strode forward, bottle extended, blaster now held at a careless angle. Randy reached out, as though to take the whisky, when, with a suddenness that made Brown jump, struck the hand holding the blaster. The weapon clattered away, and, with a curse, the man swung at Randy. Randy blocked the swing with his good hand, but the impact knocked him sideways. Then Brown was on the fellow, throwing him backward and landing hard on his midriff with both knees. A well placed punch knocked him senseless, blood streaming from his nose.
Randy was grinning at him from his half sitting half-lying position. "Good work, sir."
"You, too." Brown got to his feet and went over to kneel beside him. "Let me see it."
Madison clutched the shoulder tighter. "It's all right. Just a graze."
"Let me see." Brown removed Madison's hand and began to peel the cloth away.
Madison closed his eyes, clenching his jaw. "Watch out for the woman, sir," he said through clenched teeth.
Brown turned. The woman they had rescued had vanished. "Where'd she go?"
"Into the kitchen I think. Here she comes."
The woman reappeared through a doorway, a long knife clutched in one hand.
Brown's first thought was that she intended to skewer her husband for beating her, but an instant later her intent became clear. Brown caught her upraised hand, as the knife was about to descend upon him, removed it from her grasp and twisted her arms behind her. She fought him, sobbing something that sounded vaguely like "...Pig, fix you for hurting my poor Chet --"
Rapidly he subdued her, fastening her hands behind her, and then cuffed her husband as well. Madison was trying to get to his feet, and Brown spoke to him sharply, telling him to stay down. The child reappeared in the doorway, wiping her nose with the back of a dirty hand. Madison looked across at her. "Come here, Missy," he said gently. "Everything's okay now."
Somewhat to Brown's surprise, the little girl obeyed. He bent over Madison again, examining the burn. The bolt had caught him just below the shoulder joint, burning away cloth and skin in a patch about ten centimeters diameter. Blisters surrounded the charred flesh in the center of the wound. "This is nasty. You're going to need a doctor." Brown straightened up, speaking into his wrist communicator, ordering an ambulance and a back up unit. "Okay if I leave you a few minutes? I'd like to check this place out."
"Sure, sir. I...I think I heard a baby crying in the room over there." He nodded toward a closed door.
"That's my sister," the little girl sniffled. "Her name's Lettie." The child gulped. "She cries a lot, but daddy says babies do that."
"They do," Madison told her gently. "Don't worry. Ty'll take care of her, Missy. You stay right here. Okay?"
Brown went into the adjoining room. It was a small, filthy bedroom, littered with wine bottles and soiled clothing. In the center of the tangled bed clothing lay a small infant, sound asleep and clad only in a soiled diaper. Cockroaches crawled across the floor and a rat vanished beneath the bed as Brown entered.
He checked the infant over quickly, noting a small cut on its dimpled chin, and the filthy bed clothing upon which it lay. Child protective services would have to be informed of this delightful couple.
He picked up the baby and carried her back into the main room. As he wrapped it in his undershirt and placed it on the floor beside Madison, the woman hurled curses at him. He ignored her. "You doing okay, partner?"
Madison nodded, but his face had become paler in the sickly lighting. Shock was a frequent sequel to a blaster burn, and Brown quickly knelt, disengaging the older child from his friend. "Lie down, kid. Close your eyes."
Madison obeyed without question. Brown elevated his feet and covered him with his own jacket. Rain spattered against the dirty windowpane and thunder muttered in the distance. "Just lie still. The ambulance'll be here in a couple of minutes."
Madison nodded. "I'm all right," he said.
"Sure you are, but lie still, anyway."
A faint smile stretched Madison's lips. "Yes sir," he said.
In the distance came the whine of a siren.
**********
tbc
