Po-Po No-Go
1027 Words
Harold hadn't been aware there was a police station within fifteen minutes of his house. But, to be fair, except for the neon sign, it might have passed as two barber shops turned into an office space.
Behind one such desk was an overweight woman, not pudgy but truly massive, as though two police officers had been merged into one and then left there. Her massive frame was seated in a custom leather office chair, which creaked every time she shifted her weight. She was slowly typing at a keyboard, once white but now a dingy manila color.
Detective White, a simple placard on her desk announced.
"Have a seat." she said, "I'll be with you in a minute."
It was, Harold's phone told him, closer to six minutes. The questions she asked were simple, and to Harold, obvious.
No, he hadn't recognized his attacker. As she prompted him, he described Vincent, leaving out the goblin features.
He had escaped from his captor at the Grand Palms Funeral Parlor. Yes, he was certain.
"How did you escape?" Detective White asked him.
"He was arguing with the driver. He left the keys in the car. I just got in and drove away."
"You stole his car?"
"More like borrowed." he said.
"Uh-huh."
He had driven the assailant's car to Piggly Wigly, and taken an Uber home from there.
In spite of the hour, she went over the story twice before printing it out and asking him to sign and date his statement.
Slayer of Men said, once they were in the restroom.
"They're just doing their jobs." Harold said.
But they did eventually relent and drive him to his house, where the officer locked him in the back.
"Is there a problem, officer?"
The officer reached over and picked up the microphone to his radio. "Dispatch, this is 2354. 10-14 my location. Requesting backup."
"Roger, 2354. I'll see what I can do." the radio told him.
"Stay here." the officer told him, stepping out of the car and drawing his sidearm. "You! lurking in the bushes! Come out with your hands up!"
Apple rose from behind some landscaping. "I'm just a guest! I'm innocent." she said, "please don't shoot."
The officer looked back at Harold, who nodded.
"Ma'am, what happened here?"
"They came back. Killed his dog. I ran. I'm so sorry!"
"Wait, they killed Princess?" Harold said. "Why would they do that?"
That sounded like the set-up for an action movie, one with lots of guns and shooting and pointless explosions.
But instead of pointing this out, Harold instead let out a sigh. "I just want to sleep." he moaned.
The officer placed Apple in the back seat next to Harold.
"Apple, who came?" Harold asked. "What happened?"
"There were goblins. And. And. They had guns. Not just handguns, but big guns. Like..." she held her hands out.
"Rifles?" Harold guessed.
"And shotguns." Apple said, nodding. "I got out the second story window and just ran. And when I came back, there was just the smell of blood. And princess was the only one left, and goblins... well, they... I'm so sorry!"
A police car pulled up behind theirs, creaking as the weight of Detective White exited the passenger side. She and the driver approached and entered Harold's house through the open front door. Shortly afterward, she came back out, unlocking the car they were in. She beckoned Harold out with one finger.
"Any part of your bullshit story you'd like to revise?" she asked.
"Well, clearly he came back looking for me again." Harold said.
"So, that's a no, then. Can you afford a hotel room?" she eyed Apple. "Something with two beds?"
"I... for a few days, yes." Harold said.
"Get back in the car, I'll drive you to Microtel. Cheapest rooms in Huntsville."
The Microtel was surprisingly cleaned and well-maintained, although the pavement had cracks in it. Cheapest turned out to be relative, at close to a hundred dollars a night. But Harold noticed both a burger joint and sandwich shop within easy walking distance.
"Oh." Apple said, her ears rising slightly. "Waffle House."
"I thought you said you were an herbivore." Harold said.
"Vegetarian, partial vegan. I don't eat meat, eggs, or dairy, but fish are okay." she explained. "And bread. Like waffles and pancakes."
"And you have the money to pay for those?"
She slumped. "A real man might offer his traumatized guest at least a short stack."
"Not tonight." Harold said. "Sleep first."
"Okay." she agreed.
As they walked toward the room (on the second floor, at Apple's insistence), Detective White flashed the lights of her car. "You both checked in now? She has a key and the room number?"
"Yes and yes." Harold said. "Why?"
"Because we still have a job to do, and that means asking your charity case some questions."
"Questions?" Apple asked.
"It's okay." Harold said. "I had to answer questions earlier, too."
With Apple safely away, Harold checked the room out. There was no mint on the pillow, but the bed had fresh clean sheets that vaguely smelled of lemon.
"Mm-hm." Harold said. "Okay."
"Hrm? Nah." Harold said.
Harold grunted disapprovingly.
"No."
Harold generated a quizzical noise.
"It is time ... for sleep..."
- Writer
