The Interstellar Police Force, Book One: The Historic Mission by Raymond Klein (ebook reader 7 inch txt) 📕

color out.” Jeff was using his rag in a circular motion. “Thank you for showing me this, Twinkie.”

“No problem, Uncle Jeff!” she said. “After this, we’re vacuuming.”

Genghis ran down the backstairs and stood looking at them. He wasn’t sure how to get Jeff’s attention, so he produced a sharp bark which caused them both to look back.

Jennifer was puzzled. “I thought we closed that door.”

“Well, we must have left it open.” Jeff got out of the car and walked toward the stairs. “He must need some water. Twinkie, I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Okie dokie!” Jennifer said, as she started on the center console.

After climbing the stairs and entering the apartment, Jeff closed the hall door behind them, then asked as they walked into the living room, “What’s up?”

“I just intercepted a strange call coming from an auto parts store in Old Town to the emergency line at the Westberry Police Department.”

“Strange how?”

“Strange,” Genghis replied. “Because there was a large amount of electronic interference with the connection. I was only able to get a little of the conversation that the police got, a frantic voice and an address of a store that’s being robbed!”

“It’s Bollar!”

“No doubt in my mind!” Genghis said.

Jennifer was standing by the Thunderbird uncoiling the extension cord to the cheap vacuum cleaner that she had found in Jeff’s closet when she heard a clatter coming down the stairs. She spun around to see Genghis jumping onto the trunk of the Thunderbird, then over the backseat and landing in the passenger seat. Trent was quickly rounding the rear fender saying, “Twinkie, we’re sorry, but we just got a call, there’s a robbery in progress, we have to go!” He was running to get the garage door open.

Jennifer got there first. “I got it! I got it! Get in the car!” She swung the one-piece garage door open as Jeff started the Thunderbird with a roar. She stepped out of the way and shouted, “GO! GO!”

Jeff squealed the tires as he left the garage. They both heard her call to be careful! She walked to the edge of the drive and watched as they raced down the road and turned left onto the Seventh Avenue Bridge.

William “Billy Bourbon” Jamerson’s mouth dropped open when he saw the garage door swing open and the ‘59 Ford come shooting out. He was parked three houses down. An hour earlier he had driven by the house of the address he got from Norman. At first, he thought it was wrong. It was a nice enough house, but he didn’t think Jennifer could afford the rent. But as he drove by, he saw the apartment over the detached garage. That’s gotta be it! So, he sat and waited, and now he was watching Twinkie as she walked back to the garage and closed the door. “Oh,” he said to himself. “She's shackin' up with him!” He started to chuckle. “Oh! He's definitely a Sugar Daddy!”

He picked up the walkie-talkie and thought how he really needed to talk to the girlfriend about his share. Maybe he’d march himself up those stairs right now and just take it. In one way or the other. It was then that he saw an old lady in a wicker chair on the front porch of the house that the garage belonged to. She was looking right at him with beady, dark eyes. He involuntarily shivered and said out loud, “Maybe I'll just catch up with her the next time I see her in town.” He then keyed the radio, “Mr. Bollar? Are you there . . . over!”

Bollar didn’t hear the message from Billy because he left the radio in the car. He had already spent too much time in the antique store. The people in the store were being cooperative, but still, he was already three minutes over schedule. He was anxious to get the hell out.

“Okay, just put the rest in there,” he said to Janice, who had the pillow case he gave her. It was full and heavy, she was having trouble getting the tray of coins into it. He angrily took the case and tray from her. “Alright that’s enough, get on the ground with the rest.” She quickly did as she was told and lay on the floor, face down next to Michael and the three customers. “Alright!” Bollar said to them, “I’m leaving. I want to thank you all for your cooperation. You are to stay on the ground for ten minutes. If you get up and I see you, I’m going to shoot you in the eye. Do you all understand that?”

There were mutters of yes and nodding of heads. “Very good. Now start counting off the ten minutes.” There was silence, so he decided to help them along. “One thousand, one! One thousand, two!”

They all in unison started counting, “One thousand, three. One thousand, four. One thousand . . .”

Bollar quickly walked to the door, swung it open, and stepped onto the sidewalk. He heard someone shout, “FREEZE! Drop your weapon!”

Bollar was shocked to see three Westberry Police cars in front of the store. The car doors were open, with police officers crouching behind them, weapons drawn. “I said, DROP YOUR GODDAMN WEAPON!”

Bollar’s heart was pounding. He heard sirens in the distance and for a fleeting moment wondered if he died would he replicate back to his old form. Seemingly in slow motion, the pillow case slipped from his hand, and then in one fluid movement he switched his A-56 Auto Loader to full automatic and brought it up.

The muzzle blast was blinding and the sound deafening. Two police officers went down immediately. Their Kevlar vests and thin car doors did nothing to stop the A-56 rounds spitting from Bollar’s gun. In response, the Westberry Police opened fire in a cacophony of sound. Bollar squatted as he heard bullets whistle by his ear. The large picture window of the antique store behind him exploded in shards of glass. Porcelain vases, plates,