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 |   Enga mellom fjella: where from across the meadow, poems sing from mountains and molehills. |
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Enga mellom Fjella  Sentinel Marked as if you own me I bow before the Bitterroots and just like you my rocky soil, my withered grass lays prey to the empty sky. © Kåre Enga 2007 "Sentinel"   Reader's Choice of Poems: "'heart's home'" "Where grows the compost heap" "A radiant moon has set" "For Jeanette ... when she grows old" "Koan on an October sky" Reader's Choice of blog entries from my old blog "L'aura del Campo" :"Death of Jeannie New Moon" "Doing and don'ting. A scene in 2nd person." "When is it proper to tell someone you love them?" "Footprints in the snow, in memory of Nyia Page" "Czernina (Dirk's-blood-soup?) and Murv Jacob's mural" FACES     PLACES            Kåre  Enga~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go. ~ Elizabeth Bishop The Fish |
6th entry for June '22 edition of
The hand that threw the brick stopped the train Sheila sat at her second-hand desk, glanced at a piece of paper placed in front her, looked up at the hulk standing over her. The hand that threw the brick stopped the train. Sheila read the color-coded note twice. Well, duh. Her eyebrows arched. "Any more details, Inspector Wallace?" "The brick matches a thousand others in this town. The conductor didn't see anything before the window shattered." "The hand?" "No fingerprints." How convenient. Sheila bore him with her eyes. "Any motive?" "None we know of." Oh? I could think of a few. "Suspects?" "None, other than that railroad gang we keep hearing about." Nice deflection. Too bad that won't work. "Who's working with you on this case?" "It's just me. Quackers is on vacation." "Sargeant Catriona Macquarie is on vacation?" "Yeah, got a pile of work on my desk." I'm sure you do. "I'm sure this is more important than serving warrants for traffic violations, Inspector." "I..." "The Chief expects a detailed report in two days... Inspector." "I dunno... that gang leader is one bad hombre... may need backup." "Yeah." Sheila laughed. She took one glance at the beefy fingers that had grabbed her last Tuesday clasped around the pen as if to strangle it. She smiled. She knew who the truly bad guy was. It took one to catch one, they said. She was badder. Chief Stacy Stanowicz had known that when she hired her. © Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [179.38] (25.juni.2022) Original in "The hand that threw the brick stopped the train [38] 275w" ANALYSIS Well... there's bad and then there's badder. I might make Sheila an ex-con on parole. That'll learn the inspector.  No room for good-guys here. I suspect that gang isn't a bunch of sweet-smelling dudes, especially if they are FTRA (Freight Train Riders of America). The inspector? Ask Sheila. Maybe the Chief is 'good' but in my experience she'd know about the 'other side'. The saying that "the only difference between a criminal and a cop is the badge" comes to mind. Fortunately, I've known wonderful cops. Chauvin however... The corrupt cop is a frequent character in nordic-noir. Jo Nesbø's Harry Hole comes to mind. Whether this is Broken Ace or Bad Guy Wins I don't know. Maybe I'll find out when I turn the page... Then again, maybe they're ALL bad, in which case it's "Bad Guy Bar" where the bar is the local cop shop. https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/BadGuyBar ~400 words |
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