Tag: police

Episode 37 of Street Dreams, a Novel by Ken David Stewart

Episode 37

After about a fifteen minute ride Kerry and Hartley Popovich could hear Aleister trying to speak. At first, all Aleister could manage was a few garbled words. His two friends were now starting to hear some words and phrases that were decipherable.Aleister attempted to say a few things that sounded like:

“Where am I? I’m in pain. I need help.”

Kerry turned around and said to Aleister, “We were just at a party. You got the crap beat out of you by a big dude that you were arguing with. Someone called the cops so we picked you up and got you into Hartley’s car. The grey interior of the old Ford Tempo was stained with the blood from the wounds in Aleister’s head. The good news was that the blood coming from Aleister’s head was now starting to coagulate.

Hartley was now doing over 110 km/h when the car skidded on a snow-covered patch of ice and fishtailed off to the right shoulder of the of Bishop Grandin Boulevard.

About thirty meters behind them was a red Ford Taurus with Harold Payton driving and Whisper Willows riding shotgun.

“Hey Harold, look to your right. There’s a car on the shoulder up ahead. Looks like they’re going to need help,” Whisper said.

Harold and Whisper were just returning from getting a late night supper at Pizza Hut. The driving was hazardous tonight as a heavy snowfall had just begun.

One of Harold’s personality traits was both a blessing and a curse. He was a nice guy. Too nice a guy. Whenever he encountered someone in trouble, he wouldn’t hesitate to try to assist them. No matter how much trouble a stranger might be in or how dangerous this intervention might prove to be, Harold would jump in to help them without any reservations. Harold Peyton could be very impulsive and perhaps even a bit self-destructive if he felt that the situation warranted it.

Harold drove his car right behind Hartley’s car. He and Whisper got out of the car and trudged through the snow toward the white Ford Tempo. Whisper could make out a bumper sticker that read, ‘Crash and Burn’. Harold approached the driver side door and knocked on the glass. He called out, “Are you people all right? Do you need help?”

Hartley was still in a bit of a daze as he hit his head on the steering wheel causing the car’s horn to go off.

“Yeah, we need help,” Hartley answered as he lowered his shoulder and banged the front door open. The passenger side door was old and rusty making it difficult to push open. The light in the interior of the car came on so Harold could now see inside the vehicle. He could see another young man occupying the passenger seat. He could make out a third young male who was trying to prop himself up in the backseat. This individual gave out a shriek of pain as he tried to move himself into a sitting position.

Whisper opened the back door of the car and made a quick visual inspection of the man who was in obvious pain.

“How do you feel, dude? What the hell happened to you?” Whisper asked Aleister.

Whisper could see that the injured man had bloodstains on his beige Slipknot T-shirt. He also had some bruises on his forehead. She asked Aleister to turn the back of his head towards her. Whisper noticed three small places where blood had previously been flowing from Aleister’s head.

“Whatever you do, don’t touch me, lady. My neck and back are killing me and I feel like I just got run over by a semi- trailer,” Aleister said in a low pained voice.

Kerry spoke up, “Don’t try to talk now, Aleister. Save your strength.”

Then he turned towards Whisper and Harold and said, “Look we just came back from Boogy’s Sports Bar. We were watching a wrestling pay-per-view and having a few beers when we noticed that Aleister had been in the washroom for a long time. Hartley went into the men’s room to check on him and found Aleister slumped on the floor. There were bloodstains on the wall behind him. Hartley and I got Aleister out of the bathroom and into our car.

Harold Peyton moved closer to Kerry, “Hey, my name is Harold and this is my friend, Whisper. Back in the day I was a medic during the war in Vietnam. Can I check on your friend’s condition?”

Before Kerry could answer a police patrol car with its lights flashing pulled up right behind him. Constable Bill Noble and Constable Melissa Parks got out of the patrol car. Constable Bill took a quick check around the area to see if there was anything dangerous around the scene that he and his partner were about to investigate. The wind had picked up and Bill’s ears were getting cold. Hartley panicked and placed his car key in the ignition. Constable Noble saw what Hartley was trying to do and snatched the car keys out of his hand.

“What’s your hurry, Bud? Are you trying to get away from us? Let’s see your driver’s license and registration.”

Hartley remembered that he had put his bag of drugs in the glove compartment. He knew the cops were going to search the car. He gave Constable Bill a shove and was tackled from behind by Constable Parks. She quickly and efficiently put the hand cuffs on Hartley.

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Episode 32 of Street Dreams

Episode 32 the House from Hell

Constables Bill Noble and Melissa Parks slowly made their way through the house. If Melissa thought that the front yard was disgusting, she would need to add an extra plus sign to the interior of the house. One wall was decorated with expletives added via different coloured Sharpie pens. Near the centre of the wall was an old tattered poster of the late Jim Morrison of the Doors. The dirty carpet on the floor was further ravished by black and brown marks where cigarette butts had been ground into the carpet.

“Watch where you step,” Constable Bill warned as he turned to look at Melissa.

“Believe me, I am. I’d hate to guess how many used hypodermics are on the floor right now. Some of their chambers are half filled with blood,” Melissa said.

Bill walked over to an old wooden coffee table which people taken the liberty of carving their names to go along with some obscene expressions and drawings.

“The occupants must be of the artistic persuasion,” Bill cracked.

Melissa laughed, “they just might be. Take a look near the end of the corner of the coffee table. There are oversized books with prints of the paintings of Salvador Dali and Picasso.

“Yeah, look at the multi-coloured paint splattered on the opposite wall. There must’ve been a Jackson Pollock wannabe at the party,” Bill commented.

“I didn’t know that you knew about art,” Melissa said

“Oh, there are still many things that you don’t know about me,” Bill replied

“Hey Bill I found something. Bloody footprints leading all the way to the kitchen,” Melissa said.

As the two police officers arrived in the kitchen, their senses were once again assaulted.

“Holy crow! These people live like pigs. I take that back. I’m insulting all the poor farm animals of the world,” Bill said.

The porcelain container in the kitchen was quite the sight. Several boxes of partially eaten pizza as well as a variety of different flavors of potato chips in cracked plastic bowls. The counter was also littered with half empty hard liquor bottles. The most popular drinks beside Budweiser beer, were Jack Daniels, Jim Beam and Southern Comfort. Both Melissa and Bill were wearing their protective medical gloves in order to prevent fingerprint contamination. Bill reached for a large bottle of Jack Daniels and was startled by the sight of an ugly cockroach darting in the other direction.

Melissa’s witnessed the cockroach and had to stifle the urge to vomit for a second time this evening. The officers noticed that the splatters of blood went past the kitchen and into the nearest hallway. To their surprise, they found a wall that was not covered by graffiti and posters of dead rock stars.

“Look Melissa, bloodstains on the wall,” Bill said.

Dried blood splatter was visible about six feet up the wall. Streams of blood had run from the site’s top right to the bottom of the great carpet. The blood streaks ran down both the left and the right side leaving an impression on the wall that resembled a body. There was plenty of blood on the carpet, but there wasn’t a body to go with it.

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The Police Arrive Episode 31 of Street Dreams, a Novel by Ken David Stewart

Episode 31 of Street Dreams, the Police Arrive

Two police officers were dispatched to the old dilapidated house on Beliveau Road. One of the police constables was Bill Noble, a twenty -year veteran of Winnipeg’s finest. His partner on this evening shift was a twenty- four year old female who is technically still in training. Her name was Melissa Parkes and her supervisor thought it would be a great idea if she worked for a while with an old veteran like Bill Noble. Bill had an outstanding reputation for integrity, competence and professionalism. It would be a great opportunity for Melissa to work with someone of Bill Noble’s expertise and experience. There was only so much that a young cadet could be taught at a police training academy. Most of what an aspiring intern would learn would be in the field working in a patrol car with a respected veteran of the force.

Both officers were on St. Mary’s Road when they received the call from the dispatcher.

“Patrol car seventeen. I need you to check out a potentially seriously injured young man who is presently at a house on Beliveau Road. We received a phone call from an anonymous caller reporting a fight in which a young male was assaulted by an unknown individual. Judging from all the background noise recorded during the call, it is believed that a loud, wild party was in progress and got out of control. There weren’t any weapons reported, but I would advise proceeding cautiously. The residence involved has been vacant for about eight months now. The previous tenants abandoned the house and we have been unable to learn the identity of the landlord,” the police dispatcher reported.

“Roger. We’re on our way,” Constable Bill Noble responded.

“Well, Ms. Parks, get ready for an exciting assignment. This could be very dangerous so just follow my lead and instructions,” Bill added.

“I understand sir and will comply.”

“It took Constable Noble and Constable Parks about six minutes to find the location of the house.

“This must be the place,” Melissa Park said.

“How did you guess?” Constable Bill asked sarcastically. “It sure looks like they had a helluva party here.”

The old house must have been painted yellow at some point in the past. Most of the paint was peeling exposing most of the bare wood to the elements. It would’ve been a terribly attractive home even when it was first built, but the extreme lack of upkeep made the house look absolutely ugly. No one even bothered to shovel the snow that would have made a good path from the curb to the front steps of the residence. As Melissa and Bill tried to make their way to the front entrance, they were forced to step in the footprints previously made by the people that had quickly fled the party. The snow must’ve been at least three feet deep causing Bill to feel winded by the time he arrived at the front door. Melissa followed a few feet behind her partner. She didn’t have to catch her breath at all as she was still in excellent physical condition after passing all her fitness tests with flying colours at the police academy. Bill, on the other hand, was forty-four years old and was still a smoker. It didn’t help that he was about forty pounds overweight. His doctor had already informed Bill that he had a mild case of COPD and if he didn’t stop smoking soon life was going to get a lot harder for him in the future. Bill had started taking some measures to stop smoking. He now carried a pack of Nicorette gum 4 mg, the strongest strength, with him and managed to reduce his tobacco intake to half a pack of cigarettes per day. The doctor had also ordered him to go on a diet and to start losing the excess weight he carried. At this point Constable Bill Noble had a hard time imagining how he was going to quit smoking and lose weight at the same time. He could hear Melissa speaking to a few feet behind him.

“This place is disgusting, Bill,” she said.

The snow in the yard made a colorful collage of broken beer bottles, sordid piles of dog turds, yellow patches of snow splattered liberally with several patches of the reveler’s vomit.

The front door of the house was left slightly ajar and a ray of white light was visible. Both Melissa and Bill drew their weapons before pushing the door all the way open. Melissa felt the nausea rise up in her stomach as a foul odor emanating from the interior of the house hit her hard.

“Excuse me, Bill. I think I’m going to be sick.” Melissa stepped back, leaned over the partially broken wood railing of the front steps and lost her supper. The remains of her fast food dinner now belonged to the snow to the left of the steps.

“I’m sorry sir,” Melissa said as she wiped her mouth with a handkerchief.

“Don’t worry about it. It happens to the best of us. I’ve been on the scene of some car crashes that made me flip my gizzard a few times too,” Bill said, as he patted Melissa on the shoulder.