5) The Blind Eye and Flabby Arm of the Law
In an alleyway along Center Line Avenue in the heart of Pure City, a black and white Pure City Police car was parked facing the street with the engine running. Inside the vehicle were two of the highest ranking men on the force: Chief Gudhi and Detective Smith.
"How are things looking, Smith?" Chief Gudhi wondered. The chief, a blind middle-aged Hindi man who wore a sharp blue suit and black sunglasses, was sitting in the passenger's seat next to the city's oldest detective.
"It's... uhhh, all great chief," Smith replied as he looked up from the fried chicken breast he was eating. The detective was sitting in the driver's seat with the seat pulled as far back as it would go to support the man's massive gut and fat thighs. He was the state's most out-of-shape officer, and had been considering retirement for quite some time.
"Great, huh?" the Chief prodded his detective in his typical, thick Indian accent. "Then why do I detect the undeniable scent of blood?"
"It always smells like that in my car," Smith informed him. The overweight detective bit into a juicy bratwurst that he had waiting for him on the dashboard. "I hunt in this car," he said between bites.
"Geez, Smith! You hunt in your police car?" Gudhi turned to face Smith as he interrogated his underling. "How do you do that?"
Smith finished the last bite of his bratwurst before answering. "Oh it's easy, boss. I drive south of the town, and fire on whatever I see in the farmers' fields out there. I keep the carcasses in the back seat and roast them in the oven I had installed in the glove compartment a few years ago."
"Dead animals in the back seat?" Gudhi was becoming frustrated by Smith's bizarre habit. "What if need to make an arrest?"
"Oh don't worry, chief. I make sure to offer them a bite if they want," Smith replied, taking a sip from a huge cup of Rock 'N' Rye he had gotten from CaCa Burgers.
Just then, the sound of screeching tires brought Smith's attention back to the road in front of them, where a large white van came to an abrupt stop at a traffic light.
"Smith!" Gudhi barked. "What was that? Let's investigate."
"But chief, they just made a quick stop. I don't think we need to..." Smith began, grabbing a slice of pizza off the center console of the squad car.
"Oh yes we do. I have seen this a million times, Smith. Let's roll!"
Smith sighed, flipped on his siren, and began moving toward the street. The white van was only a few feet down the road from them, still stopped at the traffic light when Smith pulled around the corner.
"Hurry Smith!" Gudhi shouted as they pulled to a stop behind the white van. "They're getting away! Why aren't we moving?"
Smith simply rolled his eyes as he took a big bite of his pizza. "We got 'em, chief," he confirmed as he ate.
"Oh..." Gudhi commented slowly. "Good; I knew that. Well Smith, let's bring this sadistic bastard to justice. Follow my lead."
As Smith struggled to get out of his seat, pushing a pizza box, a bag of fried chicken, and a container of popsicles off of his lap and onto the floor, Gudhi quickly took off his seatbelt and left the car. Gudhi ran his left hand down the side of the squad car as he walked, and Smith stepped out of the driver's side door, shutting it behind him.
"Hold still!" Gudhi instructed the detective before they made their way to the truck. "I smell a trap. This guy is dirty. Draw your weapon!" Gudhi pulled out his black pistol and reached his hand out to feel the back of the truck. He then ran his hand down the side of the vehicle as he proceeded toward the passenger's side door of the truck.
Frustrated, but not surprised by the chief's actions, Smith hitched up his pants and slowly waddled toward the driver's door of the white van. The side of the vehicle had no windows, but the markings and logo on the truck indicated that it belonged to Nick Pavotini's Landscaping. Smith recognized the company, and remembered that the owner of the landscaping company owed the Russian crime syndicate money. Smith hated doing chores for the Russians, but they always paid him well, and he knew they would want this man arrested so they could deal with him.
"Freeze, speed-bag!" Gudhi shouted as he yanked open the passenger's door and pointed his gun across the seat to the driver.
Smith approached the driver's door and opened it to see that the driver was Nick Pavotini. The man, a white man with black hair who was about thirty years old, was trembling as he held his hands up in the air. "Sir," Smith panted as he bent over to catch his breath. He ate the rest of the slice of pizza he was holding before continuing. "Now... could you please step out of the vehicle?"
"Uhh... uhhh, alright officers," Nick said through chattering teeth. The squirrely landscaper stepped out of his truck and stood next to Smith. As Gudhi clumsily made his way around the van to stand next to them, traffic began to become more and more backed-up on the street.
"Alright Smith, I have our drag racer in my sights," Gudhi said as he grabbed Nick's shoulder and pressed his gun up against the man's face. "Smith, search the truck."
"Sure thing, boss," Smith responded as he gained his composure. He then searched for evidence inside of the vehicle. Of course, Nick Pavotini was clean, but Smith needed to insure that he didn't go free, that is, if he wanted to satisfy the Russians.
"What are you finding in there Smith?" Gudhi asked from outside the truck.
"Uhh, nothing good chief," Smith replied. He looked in the back of the truck, where Nick kept his tools and landscaping supplies. Grabbing a handful of chiseled-out stones, Smith reported loudly, "We've got crack'd rocks!"
"Crack, huh?" Gudhi questioned irritably, pressing his gun closer into Nick's face. "So it's not just speed you're in it for, after all."
Smith continued searching. Spotting a flower pot next to a shovel in the back, he called out, "We've got pot!" He searched the pot, finding a few pulled-out dandelions inside. "Lots of weed in here," he commented.
"Haha! We've got you now, creep!" Gudhi taunted Nick.
Finding a half-finished can of cola sitting in the cup holder of the van, Smith replied, "Oh good, Coke!" Smith said as he grabbed the can and drank the man's warm soda.
"Cocaine, huh? I should have guessed," Gudhi said. "Anything else in there Smith?"
Smith then flipped through a couple CD cases that were sitting on the passenger's seat. "He has pure ecstasy!" he shouted as soon as he saw a copy of Aretha Franklin's greatest hits.
"Ha! I knew it," Gudhi said proudly as Smith stepped back outside of the vehicle. Gudhi then released his grip on Nick but kept the gun pointed at him.
"Look, I can explain," Nick began. He promptly backed up and out of the range of Gudhi's gun.
"Oh, enough of that already," Gudhi replied. He then pointed to where Nick had been standing before he backed up. Though Gudhi believed he was pointing at Nick, he was actually pointing to the city's mailman, who was walking down the sidewalk. "Smith," the blind chief commanded. "Arrest that man!"
Smith turned to look at the mailman. The mailman looked back at the two police officers with a look of sheer confusion and fear. Smith gave Gudhi a skeptical look before asking, "Him? Are you sure?"
"Of course I am," Gudhi confirmed. "Unless you want me to just shoot him right now, if we want less paperwork..."
"Okay, I'll arrest him," Smith said reluctantly. He then approached the confused and frightened mailman and handcuffed him. As the detective and Chief Gudhi put the innocent man into the back seat of the squad car next to one of Smith's dead deer, Nick took the opportunity to hop back into his white van and tear off down the streets of Pure City.