A Job Well Done

Hello! Below I posted another fiction piece from the creative writing class I took senior year. This one is not as funny but also not quite as long. And it was fun to write! I edited a couple typos but otherwise resisted the urge to edit further. Enjoy!

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It was just one of those days.  I felt tired, hungry, and frustrated.  Nor did it help that I had spent all night long on patrol.  Now the last thing I wanted to do was spend the day in a park where even my grandmother would have started snoring.  I knew nothing was going to happen.  Especially in a park that hadn’t changed in the last thirty years . . . 

Imagine my surprise when I suddenly heard an old cracked voice cry out from behind me.

“Oh no you don’t!” it said, just as I turned to see old Mrs. Henson standing over Mr. Parker with a paper bag clutched in one hand and her cane threatening to hit him with the other.  But before I could even get hold of my whistle, the old woman had already begun to shout:

“Officer! Police! Help!”

 “Officer Williams?!” a harsh voice barked into my radio and startled me out of my daze.  Blinking open my eyes, I suddenly remembered where I was.  I looked about me and found the inner city road still running to my left with cars whizzing by.  I remembered the radio. 

Not again, I thought to myself.  This better be the call to go home.  Reluctantly I picked up the device and held it up to my face. 

            “Yes Officer?” I asked in a less than enthusiastic tone.  

            “We’ve got to go out again, Williams,” the voice said quickly.  “The old City Bank just had some gold stolen from them last night.  I’m almost certain that it’s the gold thief from Chicago.  We’re closing off the surrounding area and I’m asking you boys to keep an eye out for anything suspicious.” 

            I closed my eyes and gave an inner sigh.  After a long night of searching for a gang of drug dealers that we hadn’t been able to find, I certainly wasn’t in the mood to stand around and “keep an eye out” for a thief.   In any case, this guy had only been sighted once in the past five years, and even then he had been reported to have worn a very non-descriptive tan trench coat and carrying a large cane.  I thought it improbable if not impossible that we’d ever find him.  Today was not going to make any difference.

Yet hoping that Officer Bartley might side with own inclinations, I ventured to ask him about it. 

 “Do you really think that there’s any chance of it, Officer?” 

“Chance of it? What, of finding him?”  Officer Bartley’s voice shouted back.  “Look, Williams, I know that we’re all tired, but we’ve got a job to do.  You owe it to your city and your country.  Don’t forget it.” 

Yes, I thought.  I know.  Normally I didn’t mind the superior officer’s cliché statements, but this time I felt little patience for him.  My throbbing head didn’t exactly help either.

“Where are you putting me?” I asked him. 

“I’m putting you inside the entrance at Gladiator Park.  The other boys won’t be far off though.  You can always call them if you need anything.” 

I nearly groaned at his words.  Far from living up to its title, Gladiator Park had about the least entertainment of any position I had ever been asked to occupy.  In fact, I had noticed the only people who ever went there were birdwatchers and mothers strolling babies up and down the walk.  Sometimes I had seen a random university student steal a bench for a quiet place to study.  Otherwise, no one else in town ever visited.  Of all the places I could’ve been assigned to, it was the worst in terms of keeping me awake.  But Bartley wasn’t finished. 

“Don’t forget to stay near the entrance either,” Bartley added.  “And don’t let anything go in or out without you seeing it.  Make sure that you keep an eye out for anything suspicious—particularly anyone carrying anything which might hold gold coins.” 

“Yes, sir,” I responded stiffly. 

“Over and out,” the officer replied. 

Frustrated with the prospect of spending all day in a sleepy place, I immediately drove over to Dunkin Donuts where I managed to quell the rumbling growls in my stomach with a powdered-sugar doughnut.  Then, as I gulped down a large coffee to stimulate some sort of energy, I drove over to the park and tried to hide the car.  Then I chose a strategic place within the park to pace, making sure that I stayed near enough to the entrance but far enough away that I would not appear obvious.  Now, all I could do was wait. 

Not surprisingly, the day passed rather uneventfully, while my fatigue and hunger only got worse.  The caffeine had worn off a long time ago.  Hence my frustration hadn’t exactly lessened either.  On the other hand, the fact that I was frustrated didn’t exactly surprise me. Officer Bartley had always had a knack for assigning positions that put one out at just the right time. 

Trying to occupy my mind with something, I turned and looked toward the grassy glen at my right.  There I could see Mrs. Henson sitting with her little basket hat on her head and her basket of birdseed in her lap.  For a fleeting moment I wondered whether that basket might contain “something suspicious”.  However, the thought of old Mrs. Henson sneaking into a bank was so ridiculous that I immediately dismissed it.  After all, the woman had to be at least seventy by now.  Neither she nor the park had really changed for the past twenty years. 

I looked at the other person on the bench.  Quiet, mild-mannered George Parker sat with his cane over his arm, his hands filled with food which he periodically tossed to the squirrels and birds to eat. His paper brown bag of birdseed sat just under his seat as always.  Although only in his mid-fifties now, he too had kept watch here for at least ten years or more.  Thus in a sense he too had earned his place as another park fixture.

I decided to turn my gaze towards something else which might be more entertaining.  Looking up towards the front gate, I thought I spied a man in a tan trench coat stalking out. Could it be?  I thought to myself.  But no, it couldn’t.  After all, if we haven’t found him in all this time, what are the chances of find him in the near future . . .

Little did I know that my afternoon was about to take a turn I never would’ve expected.  Before I even knew what was happening, I heard a shout and a loud noise behind me.  As I turned to look, I suddenly spied Mr. Parker on the ground with Mrs. Henson standing over him.  In one hand she held his paper bag of birdseed, while the other held her cane and waved madly over his head. 

“Officer! Police! Help!” the old woman cried. 

Although still stunned by the shocking display I had just exhibited, I immediately blew my whistle and ran over to the scene.  Mr. Parker meanwhile made an attempt to run, but quickly discovered that he had twisted his ankle in his struggle with the old lady. 

“Officer?” demanded Mrs. Henson.  “Arrest him!” 

Still perplexed at the scene I had just witnessed, I first forced the normally tranquil Mr. Parker to stand.  Then I pulled his hands behind his back and demanded to know what had happened. 

“He was trying to steal some money, Officer,” Mrs. Henson responded.  She lifted the hand holding the bag of birdseed.  “Here; it’s right here.”  Opening the bag with her old wrinkly hands, Mrs. Henson revealed what appeared to be at least two hundred gold coins.  I stared at the money in utter shock.  It couldn’t be.  Could it?  Did little old Mrs. Henson just locate the thief for us? 

“How on earth did you know what was in there?”  I asked her in disbelief.

“Well,” began the old woman, twisting her cane round and round in her hand, “I actually just happened to glance at the bag for a second, but then I just noticed that it had a hole and somethin’ gold and shiny was stickin’ out of it.  I knew somethin’ had to be wrong.  So I picked it up and went I went to look inside, Parker jerked it out of my hands and tried to run.”  At these words she lifted her cane and shook it at the man.  “I wasn’t gonna let him go neither!  No, sir, not me!  I lunged after him and grabbed his coat. 

 Pulled him right down on his back.  Soon as he fell I called to you.  And you came just in the nick of time.” 

“I suppose so,” I said, still staring at the hunched over old woman.  Then, coming to my senses, I turned back to my victim. 

“Well, Parker?” I asked.  “Have you got anything to say for yourself?” 

In response I felt Parker try to jerk himself away, but I tightened my grip on him and clamped on the handcuffs.  Then, before he could make another attempt, I promptly reported to situation to the other officers.  Within minutes we all could hear the sirens flying towards us down the road.  As soon as he got a chance, Officer Bartley came up to congratulate me. 

“Well done, Officer,” he said, nodding his head in approval.  “Looks like you caught him. Congratulations.  You should be proud. ” 

Instantly I felt guilty.  Ashamed at the selfish thoughts I had harbored towards him that morning, I realized that he had been right about keeping an eye on the park—and even going out in the first place.  I also knew that the credit didn’t belong to me either.  Thus I immediately introduced him to Mrs. Henson, who had simply gone back to bird feeding. 

Once he had heard the story, Officer Bartley acted almost as surprised as I did and warmly congratulated the woman.  However, he did have one question. 

 “Tell me, Mrs. Henson,” he asked her, “What exactly made you think Mr. Parker stole the money in the first place?” 

“Oh, I always suspected him of somethin’,” the old woman responded.  “After all, when you get to be an old woman like me, you start gettin’ real suspicious of people.  Then you just notice things.  I guess it’s just a good idea to always stay focused and stay alert.  That’s what I call a job well done.” 

You got that right, Mrs. Henson.