More Maloney Baloney

You could join the force as a cadet at the age of eighteen but as soon as

you turned twenty-one you automatically became a full-fledged constable.

By that time you would normally have attended Police College and received

the firearms training that would allow you to carry a service revolver.

As it happened I was injured and in the hospital when it was time for

me to take the training. So while I waited for the next class, I was sent to one

of toughest divisions in the city unarmed and untrained. That’s where I

met Maloney; I sure appreciated having him around; he was a lot better

weapon than my gun would have been.

Even though I didn’t have a gun I still had to comply with the uniform

regulations and wear my full Sam Browne with holster and ammunition

pouch. There was a problem with this arrangement because it meant that

when I sat down the empty holster would fold over and crack the leather. If I

was one of the old hands this wouldn’t have made much difference but I was

due to attend the next class at the college and that meant my kit would have

to be in perfect condition. I remembered the trouble I got into with Sgt. Saul,

the drill instructor, during cadet training and I didn’t want a repeat

performance.

I solved the problem of the folding holster by fashioning a supporting

frame out of an old coat hanger. It was roughly the shape of the holster and

fit neatly inside to hold its shape. One day, when I was sitting in the

guardroom with Maloney, me touching up my leather, I pulled the wire

frame out and he said, “What’s with the sling shot?” I hadn’t thought of it

before but it did look just like a little slingshot.

“Gimme dat ,” he said and whipped it out of my hand. He pulled open

a desk drawer, found some rubber bands and strung them across the frame.

“There ya go,” he said, “Now you’re armed.”

One thing led to another and soon we were taking turns firing tiny bits

of folded paper at the framed photograph of Commissioner Bick that hung

on the wall of the lunchroom. As time went on, whenever things got boring

in the station the big Irishman would insist that I haul out my sling shot and

we would have another go at the Commissioner. Because of his frequent

requests I got in the habit of keeping a good supply of paper wads in my

ammunition pouch.

Maloney and I were out on patrol in scout car on the late shift when

the radio lit up with a call reporting an armed robbery. As the dispatcher

described the person responsible we realized that we were already looking at

a man who fit the description perfectly.

We had noticed him jogging along the sidewalk beside us and now, as

we sped up to get a better look, he took off in full flight. Maloney was at the

wheel and I was riding shotgun, inappropriate somehow since I didn’t have

one. We overtook him easily but he suddenly dodged into a narrow alley

where the car couldn’t follow. Maloney hit the brakes and shouted for me to

chase the man on foot while he drove around the block to try and cut him

off.

I was out of the car like a shot and as I started up the alley I heard

Maloney shouting; “Wait, I forgot you don’t have----.” It was too late. I had

the scent and there was no stopping me. I lost sight of the man momentarily

as he turned into a large service lane but as I rounded the corner, I could see

that the distance was closing and that it wouldn’t be long before I caught up

with him. When I was almost up to him he swung to his right into another

alley. Just then my boot hit something and I tripped and stumbled forward.

When I regained my balance and turned the corner I could see that we were

in a short dead end alley blocked at the far end by a twelve-foot high chain

link fence. My man had climbed almost to the top and his feet were just out

reach when I arrived at the bottom of the fence and made a mad grab for

them. My boots weren’t made for climbing and he was about to get away so

I went to plan B. “Stop or blow your bloody brains out,” I growled in my

best ‘Dirty Harry’ voice.

Wow! It worked and from the way he smelt when he let go and

dropped in front of me, I had literally scared the shit out of him. “Keep your

hands on the fence and spread 'em,” I said and then started to search him.

The scout car’s headlights illuminated us both as Maloney swung into the

lane behind me. When I heard the big guy open his door and start puffing his

way towards us, I leaned forward and hissed into the bad guy’s ear, “Turn

around slowly and don’t try anything. I’ve got you covered.” When Maloney

got to me I was standing with my fully loaded slingshot pointed at the bad

guy. “Jeezuz !”, said Maloney. “Jeezuz!” said the bad guy.