The Science Police
By Ray Daley
853 West Hollywood. This one came as a tip from a glass-maker.
I checked myself in the mirror, yep, still in the uniform, because the perps always spilled their guts to a friendly uniform. Most of them, at least. Some were hard nuts, refusing to talk to anyone who wasn’t from Division. But I always had my wildcard, ready to play in those cases.
I checked my watch, counted three more seconds, then kicked the door in.
“FREEZE! Move and I shoot!”
I always shout the warning, make it as loud as you possibly can. Most newbies drop what they’re doing. That breaks a lot of evidence, but it puts a stop to any science carrying on.
“Shit! It’s the Science Police!” the first perp shouted. His hair said he’d just woken up, but his eyes said he might not have slept in the past decade. No track marks on his arms but if I wagered he was a reformed junkie I’d probably win that bet. And I could smell his funk from the doorway. Those bright yellow pants weren’t helping his look either. Nothing about him said ordinary Joe.
“No, man, that’s just a regular cop, Emil!”
I walked over to the one called Emil and flashed him my cop badge. “Officer Bob. Just a regular cop. Serving this warrant on behalf of the Science Police.”
I looked around the room. There was a Bunsen burner heating a beaker of green fluid. “Copper Sulphate?” I asked, pointing at it.
Emil nodded. “It will be, in about two more minutes.”
I shook my head and gave them my “That's never going to happen while I'm here” face. Then I smashed the beaker with my night stick. “File for the record, Chemistry. One count of attempting to make Copper Sulphate.” Then I shot a thumb at the first perp. “Who's this, Emil?”
Emil couldn't sell his friend out fast enough, maybe in hope I’d go easy on him. “That’s just Don, Officer Bob!”
I looked Don up and down, mostly to unnerve him. It worked perfectly, judging by his aroma. Au De Urine. “Just Don, right?”
Just Don nodded his head. If I wanted to call him Just Don, that was fine by him. He’d probably let me call him Susan right now if I felt like it. Don was lucky I didn’t feel like it. Mostly because it was Tuesday, and Tuesday was always Give A Perp A Break day. “Where'd you get the hardware from, Just Don?”
“Mackie’s, on Tenth and Mason.” This was true. Because that’s where I had already been this morning, and not in my nice friendly cop uniform either. I didn’t need the uniform there. Everything about me screamed undercover cop. Probably why he squealed so fast. Ally Mackie had answered all my questions too.
He’d even answered a few which I didn’t ask him. I love it when perps are so scared they do bits of your job for you. And no, he won’t be getting the bonus I’m scoring for this bust either. I’d listed him as “an anonymous source” who “offered the authorities his assistance.” I'll claim his five hundred dollar information bonus when the meat wagon arrives.
“And the Bunsen burner?” I’d already read the label on it when I walked in, I was just giving Don and Emil a chance to further incriminate themselves. Or help me out. Dealer's choice.
Don shrugged. Emil tried his best attempt at a blank face. Not a very good attempt. But I’ve seen worse. “No idea, sir.”
I remembered that it was Tuesday. “Are you sure, Emil? Because this is your only chance to be helpful. It’ll be better for you when you get to booking. You helping me now is the difference between you going into the communal cell or getting a nice private room to yourself. So what do you say, Emil? Where did the Bunsen burner come from?”
“No idea, sir.” His face said different. And the label on the side of the offending item said Phillips Science Supplies. I’d run into their stuff before, only we thought we’d shut them down. At least twice.
Clearly not, it seems. Yet again.
“Kill the gas, Emil. I’m taking you both in.” I gave them a look; I wanted them to know I meant business. I knew they could see I was alone, but they’d already heard me say I was helping the Science Police.
Lucky for me, Emil was like most perps. Scared out of his mind but happy at not having to actually face someone from the Science Police.
As I was cuffing them together, I caught Don muttering something that certainly wasn’t intended for my ears. “At least we got a straight cop, a good honest uniform. They’ll go easy on us, man!”
Emil’s reply was even more interesting. “It’s weird though, that guy at Phillips said no one ever sees anyone from the Science Police. They don’t think the division actually exists.”
I looked them both straight in the eye. “No one believes in the Science Police, Emil. It’s a myth. They don’t exist. Even us cops don’t believe in them.”
Both men visibly relaxed after I said that. The arrest van recorder picked up a nice conversation about their trip to Phillips, giving us a solid location. I doubt it’ll still be there when we go and check it out later today, but it’s one step closer in our goal. They might not think they’ve ratted Phillips out, but it’s good enough for me.
You can’t just let anyone go around doing science. That stuff is really dangerous.
So we patrol in plain sight, hidden by our uniforms. Let Joe Public think we’re just a figment of their imagination. Unless they’re performing illegal science. Then we’ll throw the book at them.
Until then, I’m just Officer Bob. If you remember anything else, forget it now. I wasn’t here. We never met.
Unless you want a visit from the Science Police?
Ray Daley was born in Coventry & still lived there at the time of his death. He served 6
years in the RAF as a clerk & spent most of his time in a Hobbit hole in
High Wycombe. He was a published poet who began writing stories when he
was 10. His dream was to eventually finish the Hitch Hikers
fanfic novel he began writing in 1986. Find him on Twitter @RayDaleyWriter or
on Bluesky @raydaleywriter.bsky.social.
In the old days, the Science Police was known as the Catholic Church....