Farlo, Tina, and Joey stood across the street from Precinct 12. “Are you crazy, we’re in front of the police station. Every cop in the city is looking for us.” Said Joey.
“Wrong, every cop in the city is looking for Dr. Big Bucks,” answered Farlo.
“What are we doing here? Harry J’s not in the police station.”
“We’re going to steal a police car,” said Farlo as if he were ordering a tall coffee from Starbucks.
“You’ve cross the line. You cannot steal a police car. It’s wrong, wrong, wrong,” complained Joey.
“Technically, I’m not stealing. I’m borrowing. The police can have it back when I’m through with it. It’s a field decision,” said Farlo. He started across the street, Tina at his side. Joey trailing behind.
They crossed the street, stood for a moment at the bottom of the steps to Precinct 12. Farlo turned to Joey, “We’re going in, follow my lead.”
Farlo opened the metal reinforced door, walked through a metal detector, towing Joey along with him. Farlo walked up to the desk sergeant, dragging Joey, who was like an obstinate child not wanting to go to bed. The desk sergeant, was a young, dark skinned Hispanic woman. Her police shirt took Joey’s mind off being dragged into the station. She looked up from her smart phone at Farlo, Tina, and Joey.
Before she could speak, Farlo said, “Maxwell, 23rd Precinct. This freak escaped from the Last Stop Assisted Care Facility. He’s disoriented, confused, and was carrying when I got him. I wouldn’t be surprised he is a bed wetter.”
“I am not a bed wetter,” said Joey.
The desk sergeant peered over her glasses and stared at Joey, “I learned about bed wetters at the academy. You’ve got all the signs. You’re a danger to all of us. Listen up, kid, the first step is to get out of denial. Admit you’re a bed wetter and life will get better for you.”
Joey started pointing at Farlo, “He’s not a police detective. His name is Farlo. He works for a guy named Filo. He wants to steal one of your cars.”
“You described this guy perfectly, Maxwell. He’s got all the symptoms. He should be in a secure lock down. He’s certifiable. By the way, I’m off in three hours, you want to meet for drinks at O’Rourke’s?”
Farlo glanced at the desk sergeants name plate and said, “I’d like nothing better Martinez. First, I need to requisition a car to take him back. I’ll return the car and we can go to O’Rourke’s together.”
“His name is not Maxwell. He’s lying. He’s going to steal the car. I’ll take a lie detector test. Ouch, that hurts. Let go of my arm,” screamed Joey.
“Next time it will really hurt where I’ll squeeze you. Zip it, kid,” growled Farlo. Tina barked.
“Cute dog, Maxwell. What’s her name?” said Martinez.
“Tina,” said Farlo.
“Get out of here, that’s my name. Hold on a second.” Martinez made a call. A minute later said, “Number 14 in the rear lot. It’s gassed up and running. Don’t be late, Maxwell,” Martinez winked.
Five minutes later, Farlo pulled out of the lot. Tina sat in the passenger seat. Joey was handcuffed in the rear seat.
“You’re going too far, Farlo. I deserve better,” complained Joey.
“Suck it up. You sound like you think life is fair. Fair only happens in baseball. I don’t suppose you never played sports,” growled Farlo from the front seat.” Tina barked.
“Did too. I play fantasy football.”
Farlo shook his head and pulled the black and white out of the police lot, took a left, turned on the lights and siren and turned headed toward the expressway. “Listen up, Kid. When we get there, we’re going in. Pretend you’re in cuffs. Act like you belong in their dump.”
“I’m on it,” said Joey.
“I’m worried, Tina,” said Farlo. Tina barked twice. Translated from dog language on Google Translate, it means, “me too.”
Will they rescue Harry J? Who’s Filo? Will Farlo meet Tina for drinks?