Plain Clothes Problems by Christoffer Petersen

Author:Christoffer Petersen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Aarluuk Press
Published: 2022-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

3

“Constable Napa threw a flour bomb at you?” Duneq said. He narrowed his eyes, which made his eyebrows prickle, and I noticed just how thick they were.

“Yes,” I said. “In the car park, right at the start of our shift.”

“This morning?”

“Yes, Sergeant.”

“Flour can be brushed off,” Duneq said.

I nodded. He was right. But Atii hit me with the flour bomb right outside the door.

“And the guy cleaning the windows,” I said, pausing as I thought about the sequence of events.

“The window cleaner?”

“Yes.” I nodded again, wondering if I was nodding too much. “He might have been surprised,” I said.

“When Napa threw the flour bomb?”

“No,” I said. “When I shrieked.”

“You shrieked?”

“And the window cleaner dropped his bucket.”

I had it now – the sequence: flour, then shriek, then bucket of water. Unless… and this was the tricky part… I did wonder if Atii had tipped the cleaner to drop the water on me when I was covered in flour. It made sense that I would shriek when the water hit me. Not the flour.

“Pranks have no place in the workplace, Jensen.”

“No, sir.”

He took a moment to fix me with another hard stare, then waved his hand for me to continue. “Tell me why the owner of the kiosk thought you were trying to rob him.”

“Yes,” I said. “About that.”

There was another squeak as Duneq leaned back in his chair, followed by a raising of the eyebrows which I interpreted as his I’m waiting look.

“I came back inside to change. But I didn’t have a spare uniform.”

“So you changed into your jeans?”

“Yes,” I said, with another nod, as if we were now on the same page, and it all made sense.

“And you continued your shift with Constable Napa.”

“I did.”

“Dressed as you are now?”

“Yes.”

“Armed with your service pistol.”

I felt another pinch of my curious frown as I wondered who was telling the story. But then I realised where Duneq was going, and that someone had talked.

“I had two pistols, Sergeant. This one,” I said, tapping my service pistol in the holster. “And this one.” I lifted the front of my jacket and pulled out a fluorescent orange water pistol. One of the older constables had her son at work one day, and he had left it behind. I shrugged and pointed the pistol at Duneq.

I probably shouldn’t have squeezed the trigger, but…

“I thought it was empty,” I said, as Duneq roared something like put the gun down, Jensen. I caught my name, but the rest was in Greenlandic, and I still struggle with that.

Of course, I also struggled not to giggle as Sergeant Taatsiaq Sinniisi burst into Duneq’s tiny office, looking for the weapon Duneq was shouting about. It was a classic case of misunderstanding, and an almost perfect re-enactment of what happened in the kiosk when I chased Atii inside with the water pistol.

The store owner saw a cop come rushing through the door, followed by me – in plainclothes, gun in hand – chasing after her. I might have had a look

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