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Peter's Patrolby
Peter Caine's fingers
beat on the steering wheel as he glanced at the naked woman in the back seat.
He couldn't believe that this had happened on his first solo patrol. Technically
he was about a week or two away from being on his own, but a flu epidemic had
decimated the police force, so he was had been sent out on his own early.
"Best
just do it and get it over with," the young officer muttered to himself. At least
the sergeant was back so he would not have to be explaining this to the lieutenant
who seemed to think he had only graduated from the academy because of his relationship
with Paul.
Those who where not out sick themselves had been very heartened
to see the captain back on his feet and at the station that morning. In fact,
due to the lack of precinct captain's still able to work, each of the functioning
captain's was taking three precincts, and one of Paul's just happen to be Peter's
precinct. Peter still couldn't believe that the virus had had the audacity to
try and take on his foster father, Captain Paul Blaisdell. Paul rarely, if ever,
got sick; but this bug had even knocked him flat for most of a week. Unfortunately,
after hitting Paul, it had moved on to his wife, Annie. Three days later Annie
was feeling a bit better and threatening to throw Paul out of the house if he
didn't go to work and quit hovering over her. The man had wisely left for work.
Evidently calling to check on her ever two hours was allowed, however, because
he did it.
Sighing, he reached for the radio. No one was going to believe
this. Well, at least the radio still worked even if the heater was broken and
the squad car was totaled.
"Dispatch, this is officer Caine at the intersection
of Liberty and 12th. Assistance requested. I've got an intoxicated woman in a
state of, ah, undress," he informed one of the women taking calls that day.
"Officer
Caine, please clarify," came the response.
"She's naked and I would like
some assistance," Peter growled.
"We'll send someone over as soon as possible,"
The voice replied.
"Thanks, and the squad car's been wrecked so there's
no heat," he added, wincing.
"Captain Blaisdell's going to love you, Peter,"
the woman chuckled. "I'll see about getting some speed on that request."
"Thanks,"
he retorted before signing off. She was right, though, that Paul was not going
to be happy about this. Well, at least he could call the captain and tell him
himself instead of waiting for Paul to hear about it through official channels.
Looking
in back once more, he saw that the drunken woman was asleep under the blanket
he had gotten for her from the trunk.
Hitting speed dial 1 on his cell
phone, he waited for Paul to pick up.
"Blaisdell," came the curt, professional
response.
"Hi, Paul, It's Peter."
"Peter, you were supposed to have
been back almost an hour ago, Paul complained.
"I know, a couple of things
came up," Peter answered immediately
"Oh?"
Peter was amazed at
how much one word could convey. He could see the older man leaning back in his
chair and sighing as he prepared to hear the entire story. It also told him that
nothing less than the complete and unvarnished truth would be accepted.
"Peter,
that was not a rhetorical question, what happened?" Paul asked. As a captain he
tried to treat his son like any other cop in the precinct, but there were times
when he could not stop himself from going into father mode, and this was one of
them. He was all too aware of the dangerous and potentially deadly situations
a rookie cop could find himself in, and all of them were flashing before his eyes.
Peter was calling for himself, which meant that it as probably not all that bad,
but still, he was a parent and worrying was what parents did.
"Well, I
was driving my patrol and I saw a woman in a parking lot with no clothes on. I
figured that she was either in trouble or drunk, so I pulled over to check it
out," Peter explained.
"Either way she was breaking a number of laws so
you were right to stop," Paul assured the rookie. One of the things that made
Peter an excellent cop was that he could not stand to not help if someone was
in need, so of course he had stopped to offer her assistance.
"So you taught
me," Peter smiled, almost able to see Paul's matching expression. "Anyway, I got
her into the back seat and opened the window from the front to get more heat back
to her. I left her there while I went to get a blanket out of the trunk."
"Did
you call for a female officer to assist you?" Paul asked. Peter was sometimes
a little creative when it came to procedure.
"I was going to call as soon
as I had her covered and warming up," Peter answered, and then started laughing
in response to the snort of laughter on the other end. "You know what I mean,
Paul."
"Yes, I do, and that sounds fine," Paul reassured him.
"So
I had her in the car while I was getting a blanket and she managed to crawl through
the connecting window and drove off with the car," Peter said, cringing as he
prepared for Mt. St. Paul to erupt.
"She drove off in your squad car?"
Paul asked after a few moment's silence.
"Yeah, but I have it back," Peter
told him quickly.
"I see, how did you get it back?" Paul asked, slowly.
He just knew that with Peter it would be something unique.
"Well, she
only got it about two blocks before she hit John Durham's bank, " Peter waited
while Paul swore softly under his breath. John was an old friend of the family,
and he would not be happy about the redecorating job done on the corner of the
building. Not to mention what the commissioner would do when he heard that one
of the patrol cars was wrecked.
"She stole the car and then wrecked it
on John's bank. Were either of you hurt?"
"No, we're fine just cold since
the heater doesn't work any more," Peter replied.
"I assume you have her
in custody?" Paul asked
"She's in back passed out under a blanket," Peter
muttered.
"Have you called for assistance?"
"Right before I called
you; I did graduate from the academy," the younger man snorted.
"Sorry,
son, I know you did," Paul apologized. "Where are you and I'll come get you?"
"Liberty
and 12th, at the bank," Peter responded, relieved. "I'll be waiting for you, and
thanks."
"You're welcome," Paul replied in a tone reserved for his family.
Twenty minutes later, Paul pulled up followed by a policewoman. He stood
back, out of the way as they got the paperwork from Peter. He wondered what was
up as they both started snickering when they reached in to the back seat to collect
the rookie's new friend.
Paul chuckled a bit, himself, as he saw her. Peter
was somewhat legendary for his bevy of beauties. The one thing all of his many
lady friends had in common was that they were all beautiful young women. This
one was definitely not his type. She was in her mid to late forties and it didn't
look like she had aged very well. Somehow, Paul had just assumed that if Peter
was stranded somewhere with a naked woman, that she would be a young beauty.
"Your
tastes must be changing," Paul chuckled as Peter trotted over to the car the Captain
was waiting in. The younger man just groaned. Settling into the passenger seat,
the officer turned the blowers on his hands and rubbed them together for warmth.
"H-h-hey, Paul," Peter chattered as he was handed a thermos of hot soup.
"Don't
talk, just eat. Annie's orders," Paul instructed. He had quickly swung by the
house to check on her and was told to take Peter the soup she had heated up, since
she could easily heat up more and their son had been sitting out in the snow storm
in a wrecked car with no heat.
Peter nodded like a bobble head as he ate
the soup. "Tow truck?" He stammered.
"That's what we're waiting for, son.
I called right before I left and they should be here any time now."
Magically,
a set of lights became visible through the snow. Peter groaned as he put down
the soup and reached for the door.
"You stay," Paul's rumbling voice ordered
as he reached for his own door. Peter smiled his gratitude as he reached again
for his soup. At this rate, in a day or two he should be warm again.
Peter
watched as Paul and the mechanic talked and then the poor squad car was hooked
up and hauled off to the garage.
"I'm really sorry about all of this,
Paul," Peter apologized as the older man got in the car.
"You did all of
this on purpose just to ruin my day?" Paul asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Of
course not!" Peter shot back in a tone that, out of sheer shock, was bordering
on outraged indignation.
"Then I don't see why you feel the need to be
sorry about it. These kinds of things happen sometimes, and all you can do is
get through them and remember them to tell to your kids someday," Paul informed
him as they headed back to the station.
Once at the station, Paul went
to his office to finish up a few things before heading home, while Peter turned
in his shift reports and went to change after signing himself out.
Sitting
at his desk, however, he remembered something else he should do. Picking up the
phone, he dialed a number he knew by heart.
"Hello?" Came one of his favorite
voices.
"Hi, mom, I just wanted to thank you for the soup. It was really
good, and I know you haven't been feeling well the last few days" Peter said.
"I'm
glad you liked it, but thank Paul, he was the one who made it," Annie chuckled.
"Paul
made it? I didn't know he could cook anything that wasn't barbecued!" Peter exclaimed.
"Yes,
he's actually a fairly good cook, but it's something that I enjoy doing as well,
so he lets me do most of it," Annie laughed at Peter's shock.
"Okay, thanks
for letting me know. I hope you get to feeling better."
"I'm feeling a
lot better, now get going so that you get some rest, Paul's told me about the
hours you've been working since the bug hit the station," Annie scolded lightly,
like the mother that she was.
"Thanks, night, mom."
"Good night,
Peter," she said, hearing his smile as only as woman who was blind could.
"Captain,"
Peter called out as Paul was walking past, after ending his phone call.
Hearing
his son's voice the graying man turned. "Yes, Peter?"
"Thanks for the soup,
it was really good. I had no idea you could cook," Peter commented, looking up
at his foster father.
"What do you think I did before I was married, Peter?"
Paul snorted, giving Peter an affectionate smile.
"Had a lot of girlfriends
who cooked for you?" Peter teased.
Paul merely raised an eyebrow, but
suddenly lost the smile that had been there. Peter wasn't looking that good, now
that Paul could see him in decent lighting. "Peter, are you coming down with this
flu bug, too?"
"Paul, I'm fi..." Peter began and turning a nice shade
of green, he almost shoved Paul out of the way as he dove for the men's room.
"Sure,
kid you're great," Paul muttered as he followed the younger man.
Peter
stepped out of the bathroom stall to find Paul waiting with a cup of water. "Rinse"
the older man instructed.
Taking the water the rookie did as he was told.
"Can
you get to the car under your own steam, or would you like a hand?" Paul inquired.
"I'm
fine, really, I just need to go home and sleep for twenty-four hours," Peter said
in what he hoped was an assuring voice.
"Tell you what, if you're fine
than YOU call Annie and tell her you aren't coming over," Paul responded, knowing
that Peter had yet to successfully get past Annie if he was sick.
Peter
groaned.
"I'll make you some more of that chicken soup," Paul offered.
"Well,
okay, I'll come and stay overnight," Peter agreed reluctantly.
"Sure, son,
just overnight to appease us unreasonable parents," Paul smiled. By tomorrow Peter
wouldn't be in any shape to be going anywhere. He would be stuck at the house
for at least half the week. Once Annie got to mothering him she wouldn't let him
loose until he was fully recuperated.
As they walked out the door, Paul
was making a mental checklist of the ingredients for chicken soup with matzo balls.
He would need to make another batch with Peter down and Annie still recuperating.
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