Craven on Patrol - Part II

“Okay, Craven. We got off to a poor start yesterday.”

“I’ll say we did. I can’t believe you made me walk home.“

“Sorry, dear boy. It isn’t everyday you find a genuine cigar store Indian getting tossed out with the trash. It was either you or him. I wasn't going to miss the opportunity.”

”Tossed out with the trash? He was standing in front of a cigar store.”

“You say tomatoes. I say tomotoes. Besides, smoking’s bad for your health and should not be encouraged. I was doing the world a favor. Now shut up. If you mention it again you’ll be locked in the trunk with Schultz.”

“You haven’t handed that dead guy over to the coroner yet?”

“George was having a busy morning, so I stopped at the florist and got some gardinias. Suck in that fragrance, Craven. Ain’t it swell? If that don’t soothe your queasy stomach. I got some clothes pins in the glove compartment.”

“How do you ever manage to haul anyone in with all the crap you stuff into this patrol car everyday?”

“In such cases I usually hail a cab and toss the suspect in their trunk. The cabbies don’t mind as long as I take care of their parking tickets. Your pal Sidney’s one of my biggest customers.”

“He never mentioned it.”

“Good. Then you don’t mention it either. As I told you last night, we’re going to that railroad flat on Second Avenue to question a low-life witness who not only witnessed the homicide, but was a side-kick of the one who done the killing. And remember, when we get there I ask the questions. You just nod and admire my well-oiled detective skills.”

“Got it. Do you mind if I make a call first? There’s a booth on the corner.”

“Make it quick, Craven. My thinking cap’s getting itchy. I don’t wanna lose any thoughts before I get to question that witness.”

When Craven returned, Sergeant Dowd cruised up Second Avenue and came to a stop in front of a dilapidated apartment building on the corner of 82nd street.

“Remember what I told you, Craven. This witness is a little oily and may try slip away if we’re not careful. If he has to go the bathroom you got with him and hold his hand.”

“Hey, wait a doggone minute. Whatever he plans on doing in that bathroom, I ain’t gonna be holding his hand while he’s doing it.”

“It’s a figure of speech, kid. Get wise. I just want you to keep close. We don’t need this weasel slipping out the bathroom window.”

When Craven arrived at the top floor he was out of breath as he collapsed against the bannister.

“You don’t want him slipping out the bathroom window? We’re five flights up. Who is he, one of the flying Wallendos? Sarge? Hey, Sarge! Where are you?”

“I’m right behind you, Craven.”

“Is that a coat rack under your arm?”

“I was hoping you wouldn’t notice. That sweet old lady on the landing below was gonna toss it out in the trash. Look at this thing it’s genuine mahogany. Mabel’s gonna love it.”

“That thing? It looking more like a scratching post.”

“Mrs. Teaberry says she’s got eight cats in her flat and she doesn’t know how much longer this rack can hold a coat before it keels over. A little spit and polish and I’ll have it looking like new. By the way, I told her you’ll be cleaning out her litter boxes before we leave. And I don’t want any argument. Consider it an initiation into the world of things you have to do whether you like it or not. It helps build character.”

“It ain’t my character I’m worried about. It’s my sensitive stomach. I hope she’s got a toilet that works”

“Quit whining and go knock on 5D. Make sure you’re standing away from the door. I don’t wanna have to carry you and a coat rack down five flights. Unless of course you’re dead. Then I’ll just leave you for the coroner to handle. All in a days work. I’ll see that you get a commendation. It’ll look swell on your office wall. Or should I say Betty’s office wall; seeing as how you’re dead and all. But I’m getting ahead of myself.”

“Ahead of yourself? You did everything but chisel my name in the tombstone.”

“It’s all in good fun, Craven. Just trying to break the tension. Go knock on the door.

Craven gave the door three solid knocks.

“Impressive, dear boy. If I was degenerate criminal I’d be shaking in my stolen loafers right about now. You done good. Now if he doesn’t answer the door soon you’re gonna have to bust down it down and beat some sense into him with this black jack.”

“Are you out of your doggone—”

A familiar voice from the floors below stopped Craven and Dowd in their tracks.

“Mr. Danger! It’s me! I made it!”

“Dwayne? Is that you?”

“Who’s Dwayne?”

“Dwayne from the Coffee Shop on the Corner. I knew we’d be coming this way so I called in our breakfast order earlier. I figured we’d be hungry.”

”I’m afraid I only have one order left,” said Dwayne. “As I was about to come into the building I notice this guy coming down the fire escape carrying a suit case. It was one of those alligator types. I never seen one before, but I did see a real one in a Tarzan movie and I put two and two together. It was the one where Johnny Weissmuller made lion food of these alligator poachers and that one guy who was trying to poach Jane in their jungle hut.”

“This suitcase, Dwayne” said Sergeant Dowd, “was it genuine alligator or the imitation kind?”

“Heck. I don’t know. All I know is he grabbed one of the breakfast orders and jumps into a ‘46 Plymouth driven by the kind of guy you don't say good morning to. Ever.“

“Details, Dwayne!” said Dowd. “I need more details!”

“It was blue and had several bullet holes in the passenger door. Gee, I wish I could have been there for that. No one ever shoots up the coffee shop.”

“I was talking about the suitcase!  Did it have leather straps?“

“Yeah. I saw straps.”

“Ah, geez. Genuine alligator, for sure. Mabel would love something like that. C’mon Craven! We gotta scram before these guys gets away with the suitcase."

“Why don’t we just open up a used furniture store and be done with it?”

“Oh, shuddup and follow me. And don’t forget to grab my breakfast order.”

 

 

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