The Shop Window

    P.C.Wilson was only five minutes into his night shift and already he had work to do. A teenaged boy in a dark hood was gazing at a large, shiny transistor radio in a shop window. He jumped when the constable laid a heavy hand on his shoulder.

    "Guilty conscience?" asked P.C. Wilson cheerfully.
   
    The boy grinned. "Don't worry, Officer," he said. "I'll come quietly."

    Police Constable Wilson was not amused."You may have to if you can't explain to my satisfaction what you're dong here at this time of night," he said grandly. "You should be home in bed."

    "I'm just looking, aren't I?"

    "I can see that," said P.C. Wilson.

    "It's a free country."

    "It is," agreed Wilson, "but it won't be free for you if you get banged up for breaking that window."

    The boy was not as grateful for this fatherly admonition as the policeman had hoped.

    "Who says I was going to?"

    "Just ask yourself: Is it worth it? You've got your whole life in front of you. Why ruin it over it over a piece of junk like that?"

    "But..."

    "I know you," continued the policeman. "And I know your father." This was a lie; he didn't know the boy from Adam."He'll give you a right walloping if he has to come down to the nick and take you home."

    "I wasn't doin' nothin'!"

    "If you don't move on right this minute I'll take you home myself," said P.C. Wilson in his sternest voice. "Then you'll catch it."

    The boy muttered under his breath something Wilson pretended not to hear and slouched off with his hands in his pockets.

    P.C. Wilson watched the boy until he was out of sight, then went on his way feeling rather pleased with himself, for he was a kindly man who believed in second chances and he was confident his timely warning would bear fruit.

    It did, and the harvest came sooner than expected. His radio beeped suddenly and he heard the voice of his despatcher. "George, there's been a smash 'n grab at Mike's Electrics in the High street. You'd better get over there."

    "Idiot!" the policeman said to himself. "Now look what you've done." He turned and hurried back. As he approached Mike's Electrics he could hear the alarm ringing and lights were coming on in the flats on the second floor above the shop. Someone had tossed a brick through the window and the radio was no longer in it's place but resting, upright and apparently undamaged, among shards of broken glass in the middle of the pavement.

    Wilson stopped and looked about him. When he saw the street was still empty he sighed with relief. Even so, he would have to act quickly. The shop owner could be along any minute. He picked up the radio and carefully replaced it in the window display just as he thought it had been before. Then he stepped back to make sure it looked right; he'd have some serious explaining to do if it didn't.

    His own radio beeped again. "What's the story, George?" asked the dispatcher.

    P.C. Wilson took a deep breath."Window's broke, that's all," he said calmly. "Just kids playing silly buggers. They're long gone by now, I reckon."