Echoes From the Beats

When he arrived beside Rod, Tom smelled liquor breath floating out the car''s window, and the lady was explaining in a high screeching voice how she hadn’t run any damn signal light and yes, she had had two beers, and, by God, she could even drive better after a couple of beers. Her face was flushed reddish and her eyes floated about when she tried to focus on the officer.

Edmonds peeked around Rod and peered into the car. In the back seat lay a coat, a couple of shopping bags, and a pair of shoes. A purse rested on the front cushion beside the lady, and on the floor next to her feet lay a brownish object protruding from under the seat. It took a moment to figure what it was, but the crisscrossed knurling told him it was the handle of…

A gun!

He blinked and looked again. It was, by heaven, an automatic pistol, right there where all she had to do was pick it up and wipe out two good cops!

He felt panic build up. He couldn’t reach the gun from his position, and if he warned Rod about it, she would know he had seen it and might grab for it.

What to do? Be calm, he told himself. His best bet, he figured, was to pull the lady out of the car, away from the weapon, before she could grab it. He elbowed Rod back out of the way, swung the driver’s door open, and grabbed the lady by the arm.

“She’s got a gun!” he yelled, giving a hard yank. He suddenly found himself staggering backward.

Her arm had come off!