Winter's Crimes 16 (1984) by Hilary Hale

Author:Hilary Hale [Hale, Hilary]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

James McClure

REMEMBER THAT JOKE, HARRY?

For just over a week now, Patrol Officer Harry T. Lomas had been working downtown San Diego under protest, and the continual round of the bus benches, the detoxification centre on Island Avenue, the bus benches, another lousy stinking drunk, the detox, was really getting to him. Getting to him so bad that he was using damn near a can a day of Julliet’s Apple Blossom Air Sweetna on the rear seat of his unit. It was becoming the breath of life to him. He was hooked on it. Anything that didn’t smell of apple blossom was a turn-off.

‘Hey, what’s the matter, Harry?’ Debbie had asked in bed that morning. ‘Somethin’ I said was wrong? You wanna try a different position?’

Harry hadn’t been able to tell her that she stank of a fresh clean young body.

And now, to add to his troubles, here was this dude lying in the trash at the back of Juicy Lucy’s on F Street, pissing a pretty fountain of blood in the air. Or at least that’s what it looked like, but Harry was working for his Emergency Medical Treatment badge, and knew the femoral artery had been slashed.

Three in the groin in three days.

It was close to an epidemic.

‘I’m dyin’. . .’ groaned the latest victim.

‘Oh, OK,’ said Harry. ‘But before you do that, I’d kinda like a description.’ Then he handed his flashlight to a hovering pimp to hold while he got himself dirty. ‘Who stuck ya, buddy?’

But the man only groaned louder as Harry dug in a thumb, trying to find the right pressure point. He missed it and blood drenched the front of his tan uniform. That was another thing about working downtown: Harry was getting through clean uniforms faster than a circus chimp through diapers.

‘Who stuck ya?’ Harry persisted. ‘You want the mother to run free, huh?’

‘Nobody,’ the victim said between clenched teeth. ‘There was nobody. Didn’t see nothin’. . .’

Harry tugged at the guy’s zipper. His pants were all bunched up and getting in the way of things. They were going to have to come off.

‘You and you,’ ordered Harry. ‘Grab and pull.’

‘Oh my, my, my!’ wailed a black hooker when she saw the hacked-up mess between those skinny white thighs.

You didn’t need a vested interest to feel a little upset by the sight. A crippled Indian on crutches took one look and fell on his ass, while a wino went bug-eyed and barfed straight back into his bottle.

‘Cool it, will ya?’ Harry said irritably. ‘I gotta concentrate. . .’

This time his attempt to find the right pressure point seemed to work a little. The jet of blood lost height, dwindled right down and turned into a fat rosebud that wobbled and changed shape all the time, like in one of those movies where they show you a flower growing from seed to full bloom in under two minutes.

‘That’s hurtin’, pig!’ complained the victim. ‘Fuck you, pig! What the fuck ya doin’?’

‘Testin’ your reflexes,’ said Harry.

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