Read Bad Luck Cadet Online

Authors: Suzie Ivy

Tags: #bad luck, #humor, #midlife crisis, #police, #laughter, #academy, #suzie ivy

Bad Luck Cadet (14 page)

 

 

 

Thank you for reading Bad
Luck Cadet. It means a lot to an author if you will take the time
to review the book, good or bad. I very much appreciate your
comments. Please join me on Twitter http://twitter.com/#!/SuzieIvy
& Facebook http://facebook.com/suzieivy and visit my website at
www.badluckdetective.com. I would love to hear from you
[email protected] Here is a sneak preview of the first two
chapters of Bad Luck Officer, coming soon.

Part One: The Rookie

Chapter 1

 

My name is Suzie Ivy. Almost a year
ago, I was laid up in bed with a broken hip. I was overweight,
depressed, forty-five years old and decided to suffer through my
mid-life crisis by attending the police academy. The most
surprising thing about my goal was that I achieved it. The academy
will never be the same and neither will Small Town, Arizona, where
I am now a certified peace officer and ready to hit the
streets.

***

I woke up on a cold Monday morning in
sudden fear. I graduated from the police academy; I attained the
goal I set for myself; and now I, Suzie Ivy, was a Certified Peace
Officer for the State of Arizona.

I was out of my
mind!

This thought stayed with me as I
uniformed-up for my first official day on duty as an officer. I
started with matching black sports bra and panties, black long
sleeved undershirt, dark blue uniform pants, uniform shirt with my
bright shinny badge in place on my chest and then put on my duty
belt. Fully equipped, this included a baton, one set of handcuffs,
pepper spray, flashlight, gun and two extra magazines of
ammunition. I put on my outer bulletproof vest and my shiny new
black duty boots went last. Note to self, it’s almost impossible to
bend over in all the gear and put on shoes. Tomorrow boots go on
directly after uniform pants.

My reflection in the mirror
showed my blond hair, grown out somewhat since I shaved my head in
my fourth week at the academy, pulled back into a small ponytail. I
used hairspray to slick down the rest. I dusted off a small speck
of lint from my uniform shirt and then peered back into the mirror.
Ready or not, I was set to hit the streets. From head to toe, the
total weight of my gear was twenty-eight pounds. It was more gear
than I ever wore at the academy but excitement kept me from feeling
as claustrophobic as I might have.
It’s
now or never.
I turned away from the mirror
and made my way out the front door.

It was the first official drive to my
department as an officer. The trip was approximately two miles. I
live in northern Arizona and it’s much different than Phoenix or
Tucson. For one thing, we usually accumulate four to eight inches
of snow during the winter with high temperatures somewhere in the
twenties. Summers are typically in the high eighties, far below the
sweltering summers in Phoenix. Pine trees are in abundance though
many have been cleared from Small Towns’ city limits. Fire is the
natural and man-made disaster we fear the most.

During the summer, you can travel a
few miles out of town and enjoy fishing and boating on several
lakes in the area. I’ve lived here for more than ten years and
Small Town is my home. Armed with a gun and the law on my side I
would now protect my home from mayhem and riffraff.

Getting out of my car was not easy. My
duty belt got caught up in the steering wheel. I made another
mental note; move the drivers’ seat further back while wearing my
uniform.

The sun was shining brightly and I
smelled the cold fresh air. It was nothing like the city. Boy, did
I miss Small Town during my eighteen weeks away.

Sandy, the administrative secretary to
the Police Chief greeted me at the lobby security window. She
smiled warmly and welcomed me into the inner sanctum of the
department. This was unlike her previous response, but I was an
outsider then. Now I was a member of the department.

Sandy pressed a button from behind the
glass security window and the buzzer sounded. I walked through the
door into the hallowed grounds of the department.

Sergeant Spears was waiting
in his office. Sandy showed me the way. I couldn’t help giving a
small nervous smile as I entered but thanks to lessons drilled into
me at the academy, I replaced the smile with a stern look that
probably came across as terror.
Me?
Afraid? Never!


Good morning, Officer
Ivy.”

This was the first time anyone
officially called me “Officer,” and it felt good.


Good morning Sir,” I said,
as I stood at attention in front of his desk trying to keep my
trembling to a minimum.


Sit down and relax, you’re
not in the academy anymore and you need to loosen up and be less
formal. Please call me Dave while we’re inside the office.” He
smiled.


Yes sir.” I said and
warily took a seat.

I couldn’t help it. It felt like a
trick. Eighteen weeks of proper police etiquette had been drilled
into me and this was my first day on the job. Relaxing or calling
him Dave was not a possibility at all.

Sgt. Spears gave me a semi-smile and
then got down to business. He handed me a blank Arizona traffic
ticket combination complaint form and told me to write a citation
for disorderly conduct. He handed me another piece of paper, half
filled with typed information, and told me everything I needed was
on the “27.”

I looked at the traffic complaint form
and then I looked at the paper. A “27” was not something I heard
about at the academy. Sgt. Spears saw me staring questionably at
the paper and asked if there was a problem.


Sir, I’m not sure what a
‘27’ is.” I felt stupid but another lesson I learned during those
eighteen long weeks was to be crystal-clear on what orders were
received.

"The 10-27 is the motor vehicle
driver’s license report that you have in your hand."

I knew that. We learned all our “10
codes” at the police academy, but not hearing a 10 before the 27
threw me for a loop.


Yes Sir.” I took a deep
breath and began filling out the form. I asked for the location of
the offense, the date and time. Sgt. Spears said we would drive to
the scene and I could enter the exact location when we got there. I
was to use today’s date and add the time when we arrived on
location.

After I finished the paperwork, Sgt.
Spears grabbed his sunglasses (I was less than cool without a pair
to put on) and we headed out to his police vehicle.

As we walked out the side door of the
building to the garage area, Sgt. Spears spoke, “There are many
things expected of an Officer in Training, or what we call an OIT.
You need to ask questions any time you are not clear on what is
going on. We are not the military. We need officers to think for
themselves. Small Town Police Department has never had a female
officer and we will face challenges we cannot possibly anticipate
or prepare for. We will go through a learning curve and adjustment
period. As your supervisor, I need you to communicate any problems
you have to me immediately. Is that understood?”


Yes sir.”

I followed him to a black and white
patrol car. There were two other police vehicles in the lot but
they were not in as good a condition. This was a great car. I drove
one at the academy. It was Ford Crown Victoria Police Interceptor.
They were fast. Unfortunately, I wasn’t driving. I got in on the
passenger side, ogling all the bells and whistles and Sgt. Spears
drove us to my first call.

The instructions continued during the
ride, “This first week you are to stand back, observe, and let me
do all the talking. Above anything else, don’t get yourself killed
or God forbid get me killed. Keep your eyes and ears open and think
officer safety. Got that?”


Yes sir.” I heard a slight
sigh from Sgt. Spears.

We drove about a mile along the
streets. The snow plow had been through and the roads were ice
free. I watched Sgt. Spear as he deftly handled the Interceptor,
while using his radio to clear us from the police department and
then announce our arrival at the scene of my first
crime.

Mr. Dwaine Piskett was sitting in the
middle of the road. He had a large rock in his lap. I’m not talking
a rock the size of your hand. I’m talking a big ass rock the size
of his lap. We approached and Sgt. Spears asked Mr. Piskett how he
was doing.


I don’t want to speak to
you." Mr. Piskett said at Sgt. Spears, "You is a ugly man an God
done handed out the looks the day you was digging through the
garbage.”

I stayed in the background
as Sgt. Spears requested. I was in shock. This man was speaking
trash to my Sergeant.
Ten hill-runs Mr.
Piskett; or better yet, how about I kick your ugly old ass.
I remembered Sgt. Spears’ words, “God forbid don’t
get me killed.” So I stood back, hand on the release lever to pull
my gun from its holster, officer safety running through my mind,
ready to save my Sergeant.


Well that may be so, but
you’re going to need to get up and move out of the road,” was the
Sergeant’s reply.


This is my road. It’s been
my road for a hundred years and I can sit in it if I want
to.”

It was scary, maybe
it
had
been his
road for almost one hundred years. From the 10-27 I knew Mr.
Piskett was ninety-two and not far off that hundred-year mark. The
academy had not prepared me for this specific situation.

Sgt. Spears kept his cool.


We’ve been through this
before Mr. Piskett; you can’t sit in the middle of the road. Put
aside the rock and let’s get you moved.”


This here rock is a gift
from God. It’s my rock and you can’t have it.”


Okay Mr. Piskett," said
Sgt. Spears, playing along. "But I need to move you out of the
road. You can carry the rock if you want.”


Are you blind? You’re
nothing but a stupid ugly piece of kennel poop. I can’t lift this
rock.”

Sgt. Spear’s voice tightened slightly,
“Then how did you get it over here?”


I rolled the damn thing,
but at soon as I got here, God told me I couldn’t roll it no
more.”

Sgt. Spears looked at me with a slight
question in his gaze and then turned back to the man cradling the
rock.


Well Mr. Piskett, this
pretty lady here was sent by God to move your rock. I’ve been sent
by the Small Town Police Department to move you.”

Mr. Piskett looked at me and asked me
if I was sent by God.

I tried to look Godly but who was I
kidding.


God wants me to help you
with the rock," I said to Mr. Piskett, "and get you out of the
road.”

He got up allowing the rock to roll
from his lap and said, “I’ll help you lift it; God said not to roll
it, so it needs to be carried, and since God wanted it moved it
shouldn’t weigh too much.”

Mr. Piskett and I picked up the rock.
He was wrong about God lightening the load. Still, I took it from
him and thankful for every push up I had to do at the academy, I
carried that big ass rock over to the side of the road and dropped
it.


Angel Ivy, I need you to
get that citation out of the car.” Sgt. Spear’s voice held humor
although he maintained a straight face.

I walked over to the car and took the
citation out. I carried it back over to Sgt. Spears. He told me to
finish filling it out with the location information and to issue
the citation. Mr. Piskett was now sitting on the side of the road,
out of traffic, and I issued him the citation. He signed it and
then he said he was thankful for my help.


God bless you Angel
Ivy.”

Then he looked down at the court date
I’d written on the citation and said he’d see me in January if God
was willing.

Sgt. Spears and I walked away and got
back in the patrol car. I was quiet, trying to understand exactly
what had just happened.

Sgt. Spears laughed, “You did a great
job. There’s no explanation for Mr. Piskett. He’ll stay out of our
hair until after the court date because he’s friends with the judge
and Judge Forsyth will not forgive two citations so close together.
We’ll get a small break from him and then God will give him a new
task and I’ll let my new angel sweet talk him into another
citation.

I felt my tense shoulders loosening up
and smiled. I survived my first call and my welcome to the Small
Town Police Department was complete.

Chapter 2

 

After our little adventure with Mr.
Piskett and his rock, the rest of the morning was
uneventful.

Sgt. Spears said we would serve a
search warrant in the afternoon. Until then, he gave me the task of
familiarizing myself with Arizona Revised Statutes (A.R.S.). This
is the law bible for the State of Arizona. It covers both criminal
code and civil traffic code. I studied it because not only did I
need to know the information, but also because, as Sgt. Spears
explained, "It will keep you out of my hair while I get caught up
on paperwork."

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