Cuffed (2 page)

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Authors: James Murray

Tags: #drug abuse, #pharmaceutical drugs, #police drama, #police and detectives, #police detective mystery

BOOK: Cuffed
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She smiled and pulled a card from her
pocket. “Call this doc. He’s a friend. He’ll be happy to give you
the order.” She wrote the name of the inhaler her son was using on
the back of the card. “I’ll browse the aisles while I wait.” She
turned toward the forger. “Sorry to jump ahead.” She took a closer
look at the man and asked, “Are you okay? You look pale. Maybe you
should use that blood pressure machine over there to check your
vitals.”

He shrugged but didn’t say anything.
Mary raised an eyebrow and stared at the man for a moment longer
before walking off to shop.

I looked toward the guy and grinned. He
asked, “How much longer, man?” He held his side and winced. He
appeared to lose focus.


Maybe you
should
check your blood
pressure. Are you feeling light-headed?”


I’m fine. Just fill the
prescription, okay?”


I’ll get right on it.” I
moved to my computer and continued the pretense of processing his
order. At the same time, I wedged the phone between my ear and chin
and dialed 911 again. I got a different operator. I explained my
situation quietly and asked, “What’s taking so long? He’s getting
nervous.”


I pulled up your emergency
and it’s dispatched to the next available officer. The problem is
there are several weather-related traffic accidents—”


I know, but this guy’s
getting nervous and I can’t stall him much longer.”


The closest cruiser is
dealing with injuries. As soon as they’re free, they’ll be on their
way. I’m bumping up your priority now.”

I glanced toward the
forger. He was looking straight at me. He nodded and sat in one of
the customer chairs. I nodded back, turned toward my computer and
stared at the screen.
I took this job so
that I could study, not catch criminals. Maybe I should say I don’t
have the drug in stock. He could go to another pharmacy, be someone
else’s problem.
I knew I couldn’t do
that—wouldn’t do that—and sighed.
Wait it
out. Help will be here soon.

Hoping to see a blue
uniform enter, I glanced toward the front door. None appeared but I
saw another regular customer walk in.
No,
this isn’t happening. First Mary and now I’ve got Ms. Huffington in
the store.

Ms. Huffington was a
gentle, white-haired lady with insomnia. After a few conversations
with her, I realized she was lonely and came in for some company.
She’d ask silly questions to pass the time. At first I was
irritated by the distraction from my studies, but soon I looked
forward to our conversations. I watched her shake out her
rain-soaked umbrella, close it and head my way.
No, I can’t deal with you now. Go do your
shopping.

In my peripheral vision, I saw the guy
get up from his chair and step toward me. I backed away from the
computer instinctively, stopping only when the phone cord
threatened to come out of the wall.

He turned, strolled to the condom aisle
and scanned the merchandise. He leaned over to read a label and his
hoodie rode up, revealing a gun tucked in the back of his pants.
More bile and acid surged up my esophagus. The mix was about to
erupt like a volcano.

Where’d he get the gun? He
couldn’t have had it in the ER! Maybe he had it hidden in his car.
Maybe he has an accomplice waiting out there now. If the police
don’t hurry, I could be facing more guys like this one . . . with
guns . . . in the store . . . with customers around.

I took a deep
breath.
Why doesn’t he point that gun at
me, demand all the narcotics and get this over with?
I dialed 911 again. I recognized the voice of the
original operator I had spoken to. “This is the pharmacist with the
forgery in progress. He’s got a gun and he’s in the condom
aisle.”


The police aren’t
there?”


No! What’s taking them so
long?”


Is he pointing it at
you?”


The gun?”


Yes, where’s the
gun?”


In his pants—the gun, not
the condoms.”


I understand, sir. Please
take a deep breath. Your emergency is now top priority. Police will
be with you shortly.”


Tell them to hurry! I’ve
got a horny, impatient forger watching my every move and he’s got a
gun in his pants. And there are other customers in the store about
to get in the middle of this mess.” I scanned the store and saw
Jeremy talking to Ms. Huffington, Mary strolling two aisles over
and the forger reading condom labels. “I can’t protect everyone.
Someone’s bound to get hurt.”


Please stay calm. Can I
call you Sam?”


What?”


Earlier you said your name
was Sam Delaney. Can I call you Sam?”

I looked at the phone, shook my head
and put the phone back to my ear. “Sure, call me whatever you like.
Just get the police here.”


They’re on their way, only
a few minutes out. Act like you’re working on his prescription but
stall.”


What do you think I’ve
been doing, lady?”

I picked up the nearest bottle and
aggressively shook the pills inside, hoping the rattle made me
sound busy. I looked up and the guy was at the counter again,
peering over the register. “Man, you going to shake that bottle all
night or fill my prescription?”


The computer’s slow,
probably the weather, but it’s processing your paperwork now.” I
cupped my hand over the phone and nodded toward it. I pasted a
smile on my face. “And I’ve got this customer on the phone asking a
thousand questions. Sit tight a few more minutes, okay?”


Whatever, man.” The guy
rubbed his head with a shaky hand, held his side and walked back to
the condom aisle.

The emergency operator said, “I’m still
with you, Sam. Help is maybe three minutes out.”


Hurry, please. He looks
sick, maybe too sick to rob me—or maybe too scared—but he’s getting
impatient. Get someone here quick!”

My conversation was interrupted by a
high-pitched, cheerful voice at the counter. “Hi, Sam. I must be
crazy to be out on a night like this, but here I am. How are
you?”

I looked at Ms. Huffington and managed
another smile. I put the phone down beside the computer, walked up
to her and placed both hands on the register. I leaned over, took a
deep breath and quietly said, “You shouldn’t be here. You should go
home.”

 


Nonsense. You think I’ll
melt with a little rain?” I watched water drip from the umbrella in
her hand. She tilted her head. “Or maybe you think I’m the Wicked
Witch of the West and
will
melt.” She smiled and fluttered her
eyelids.

I shook my head and raised an eyebrow,
tried for a serious expression. I nodded toward the condom aisle.
“I’m kind of busy. You should leave now.”

Her mouth slackened as if
I’d insulted her. She looked me in the eye and frowned. “What’s
wrong? Are you sick? Maybe
you
shouldn’t be here tonight either.”


I was thinking the same
thing. Please leave. I’ll see you another night.”

She started to look over her shoulder
but stopped herself. She nodded. “All right, I’m leaving
now.”

The forger glared at me. “My drug ready
yet?”


Almost. The printer’s
about to spit out the labels any second now.” I thought,
I’ve got a wife, two kids and a mortgage. I can’t
afford to die.
I tried to remember how
much life insurance I had. I visualized policies and added the
numbers quickly in my head, too quickly.
Not enough. It’ll never cover college, the house and leave
enough for my wife to live on. I can’t die tonight.

After what seemed like hours, the front
door slowly opened and a police officer slipped in. He moved
guardedly toward the pharmacy and came around the perimeter of the
store from my left.

I glanced toward the forger. He had
moved to the blood pressure machine and stuck an arm into the
inflatable cuff. He pressed the start button. The cuff
automatically inflated around his arm.

Looking to my left, I saw the
officer—gun drawn—round the corner and head toward the prescription
counter. The cop and I made eye contact. I nodded toward the blood
pressure machine.

He approached slowly and quietly. When
he was about ten feet from the forger, he yelled, “Police. Freeze!”
The man spotted him and stood abruptly. But his arm was locked in
the blood pressure cuff and he was pulled back into a sitting
position like a magnet to metal.

The officer moved closer to the machine
just as Jeremy ran around the corner with a cane he’d picked up
from a display. He slashed it through air at the forger. He missed
and struck the cop’s arm instead. The officer yelled and dropped
his gun.

The forger, startled and wide-eyed,
fumbled with the machine’s controls to disengage the cuff. When
that failed, he reached behind him for his gun. Just as it
materialized, I saw Ms. Huffington waddle up with her umbrella held
out like a sword. She poked the man in the side. He screamed in
pain.

Good aim, Ms.
Huffington.
He slumped back onto the
machine’s seat holding his side.

 

The policeman leaped toward him,
grabbed the gun, lost his balance and fell on top of him, but held
on to the man’s arm and the pistol.

I rushed to the blood pressure machine
as Mary ran up holding another display cane, ready to strike. I
pulled Ms. Huffington off to the side and Mary did the same with
Jeremy.

The officer tucked the gun in his belt,
retrieved and holstered his own weapon, and yanked the forger to a
standing position after disengaging the machine. He spun the man
around, cuffed him and began the litany I recognized from
television shows: “You’re under arrest. You have the right to
remain silent; anything you say can and will be used against you .
. .”

Ms. Huffington pointed at the cuffed
man and scowled. “Shame on you, young man.”

The policeman chuckled and shook his
head. “Nice poke, lady. Good assist.” He handed her a blood-tipped
umbrella.

The suspect looked down at Ms.
Huffington. “You old bitch.” He next glared at me. “I’m going to
get you for this, man.” He turned to the officer but nodded back
toward me. “He did it. He changed the numbers. Probably does that
all the time working this shift. Must have a big stash back
there.”

The cop shoved him. “Shut up, punk.” To
me he said, “When I drove up, there was a car in the lot with two
guys inside. I called for back up. We’ve got them
detained.”


They didn’t try to leave
when they saw your police cruiser?” I asked.


I don’t think they
noticed. They were so high they could hardly talk much less drive.”
He pushed the kid down the aisle. “I’ll be right back to get your
statements.”

While the policeman walked the guy out
of the store, I turned to Ms. Huffington and laughed. “How did you
know what was going on?”


I knew you’d never be as
mean to me as you sounded earlier. I knew something was up and told
Jeremy. He gathered Mary and me at the front of the store, told us
to leave.”

 

Mary bit her lip and nodded toward Ms.
Huffington. “When Jeremy followed the cop through the store, we got
curious and followed too.”

 

Ms. Huffington looked around at
everyone, grinned from ear to ear and clenched her fists. “What an
exciting night! Do you think I’ll have to go to court? Maybe
they’ll need me to testify.”


Count me out of that,”
Mary said. “I see enough craziness in the ER every night. Now about
that asthma script, Sam?”


Oh, I totally forgot. I’ll
call your ER doc right away.”

I called, got the order and filled her
son’s prescription. Mary paid her bill. She started to leave as the
policeman walked back to the counter. He held out his hand to stop
her. “Not so fast, ma’am. You’re a witness.”

 

Mary sighed and the officer pulled out
a notepad to take her statement. He questioned her for a few
minutes and jotted some notes. Finally he said, “Okay, you can
leave. We’ll call if we need anything else.”

The officer focused on Ms. Huffington
with a crooked grin. “You’re something else, ma’am. You saved my
butt . . . Uh, excuse me . . . you saved my life. I’m
grateful.”


You think I could testify
at his trial?”


He’ll probably plead out.
But even if it’s only a plea hearing, I’ll personally give you a
ride to court. You won’t miss a minute of this if that’s your
pleasure.”


Hot damn . . . I mean . .
. very good of you, officer.” Ms. Huffington looked toward me and
blushed.

The policeman took Jeremy’s statement
before turning to me. “I’ll take that prescription now.”

I went into the pharmacy, retrieved the
forgery and handed it to the officer with some hesitation. He
noticed.

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