Lovers' Quarrel

Posted by: Blue

The other day, on the last shift of my tour, we were dispatched to check the well-being of a female at an address of a 911 hang-up at a rooming house.

Enroute, my partner ran the address.  Over a dozen domestics in the last month.  A few different people mentioned.  Sometimes the female was the complainant, sometimes the male.  These were "frequent fliers".

We arrived, and proceeded to bang loudly on the door.  No answer.  Jefferson Airplane could be heard playing loudly on the other side of the door and the light shone through the bottom of the door.

We went back to the cruiser and messaged our Sgt. on the computer, asking permission to force entry into the apartment.

The Sgt. read the comments and a few minutes later messaged us back: "k.  you have permission to force entry to check the well-being".

I grabbed the pry bar from the trunk, though I wasn't sure I would need much muscle; the door appeared to have been breached countless times in the past, and it bore the scars of previous efforts.

We knocked one more time with no response and then my partner gave me the nod.  The door popped open like a wet cardboard box.  We peered in.  I couldn't see much from my angle, but I did see my partner roll his eyes and shake his head.

We walked in.  The lovers were sleeping on the couch with their heads each on opposite armrests.  She was naked (or at least topless, I didn't investigate below the sheets).  He was sleeping with a contented smile in sweats and a t-shirt.  It was clear whatever "distress" was originally present was now passed.

I glanced into the kitchen and found the stove burner glowing red-hot with two hot-knives sitting on the cooktop.  The handles were wrapped in duct tape to prevent burns.  Safety first I guess...

The couple was woken with some effort and sluggishly explained that they had been arguing about music.

We asked the female if the male was okay to stay there.  She said "Yeah.  I think he's okay now... nah... you know what... take him outta here."

"Is he on the lease?"

"No."

"Does he stay here regularly?"

"No."

"Alright, c'mon.  Let's go."

He got up, put on his jeans over his sweats and reluctantly came with us, looking rejected and sad.

We got out to the car and I asked "So you had a fight and then you made up and smoked a little weed together and then had some lovin'?"

"Yeah," he responded with a laugh and a sheepish grin.

"And now she wants the couch to herself hey?"

"I guess so," he replied, a little more forlorn.

"How 'bout we take you somewhere to sleep for a few hours and you can grab your clothes and things in the morning?"

"Yeah.  Thanks a lot guys.  You guys are alright."

We tanked him.  He talked about blues music the whole way there.