Lonely Pig
written by: Ted Halm
Christmas was like any other day for officer Solomon. No friends to call, no family anywhere. That was why he volunteered to take the night patrol. The double pay, on a cop’s salary, was a Christmas bonus to himself.
“You can always count on little Eddie Solomon,” the mirror mocked as the police officer dressed neatly in his uniform and badge.
At dusk, Solomon left his apartment and walked to his patrol car, a new blue 1974 Plymouth. A dog across the street yanked on its chain and performed its ritual of snarling at this perceived uniformed menace.
His car glided through the side streets and into the shopping district of the small town. The empty streets glowed in the haze of colored lights. He knew, though, that the movie theater would be busy on Christmas night. Through his windshield, Solomon observed the crowd entering the theater. He spotted Kendall, a neighbor he knew who lived upstairs in his apartment building. Her hand was hooked over the arm of a tall man.
He remembered the time, in the community laundry room, when he met her, and they went out for coffee, but she backed away. “You’re a nice guy, Eddie,” she smiled, “but I didn’t know you were a pig, and that’s not what I’m looking for.”
A call was coming in from Dispatch. “I’m no pig, she’ll see.”
***
“Hit-and-run on the Quarterline.” Tripp, the other officer on duty Christmas night, was in pursuit. The driver had sped home, boarded the door, and riled up his dog.
When Solomon reached the scene, he could hear the driver screaming “Sic ’em pig! Sic ’em pig!” through the closed door of his house. Tripp was at the door yelling, “I’ll shoot the dog! I’ll shoot the dog!”
Solomon intervened. “Let me try to talk to him, Tripp. I’ll get him to call off the dog. I heard on Dispatch there was no damage in the accident. Maybe I can reason with him.”
After the exchange of a few words, the door swung open. Tripp rushed a man in the center of the room and handcuffed him. Another man appeared from an adjoining kitchen and held the dog by the collar. “That’s my brother Tom you’re arresting,” he said. “What the hell did he do now?”
Tripp stared straight ahead. “Your brother had too much Christmas cheer and fled the scene of an accident. He’s in serious trouble. Resisting arrest, suspicion of driving while impaired.”
Solomon took the brother off to the side and spoke to him in low tones. “It was more of a ‘bump-and-run’ situation at a stop light. The other driver doesn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”
The brother folded his arms. “I tell you what, officer. I’ll make sure he stays here and doesn’t go back out. He can be a real pain sometimes.”
Solomon showed no visible reaction and looked across the room.
“What do you say, Tripp, it’s Christmas. Take off the cuffs, I’ll phone the brother later and follow up. I’ll handle the rest of the calls tonight. Merry Christmas.”
With some hesitation, Tripp removed the cuffs.
***
The radio crackled inside Solomon’s car. “Officer needed, 420 Raby Road.” A family reported teenagers were banging on their door and not leaving the premises. A few miles out of town, on a dirt road.
Solomon arrived, and with his headlights, witnessed a skinny figure in the front yard of a farmhouse relieving himself on a tree. A car was parked crooked on the edge of the road, and beer cans were scattered in the ditch. Solomon shined his flashlight and approached the vehicle. Three passengers of high school age were sitting in the front seat. He tapped on the glass. A pungent smell was evident in the plume of cigarette smoke that wafted into the air when the window came down.
“Can you tell me what you kids are doing out here on Christmas night scaring this family? I saw the beer and smell the weed. And your buddy over there by the tree.”
The driver of the vehicle, the oldest of the bunch, explained they were out of gas and had wondered if the farmer might have some. He said they were cruising around looking at Christmas lights. His sister and two buddies came along. They got stranded. It was cold.
“And that’s not our beer and we ain’t got no weed.”
Solomon started to reach for his pad. “I’ve heard it before, don’t lie. You kids scared the hell out of these people. Tell your friend to get over here. I should run you all in.”
The sister, suddenly aroused, slurred out an insult. “Hey pig, it’s cold outside, can we roll up the window now, or don’t you have anything better to do than harass us on Christmas?”
Solomon diverted his flashlight. “You shut up and sit tight. I’m going to check with the family and make sure they are okay.”
A brief discussion on the porch of the farmhouse hushed the fears of the family. “Not much of anything here,” Solomon reported to Dispatch. “Some kids ran out of gas, got cold, and scared this family.”
As Solomon made his way back to the scene, he noticed, in the winter sky, a single shining star. “Get into my car. I’ll take you all home. Only because it’s Christmas, I’m going to be lenient. Get your car tomorrow.”
Solomon seated the teens in the back of his squad car. As he turned in his driver’s seat to scold them further, his face came out of the darkness and was lit by the starlight seeping through the side window.
“And don’t let me catch you again.”
***
“How’s your brother Tom doing,” Solomon phoned the brother in the wee hours of the morning.
“He passed out an hour ago. He’ll sleep it off, probably won’t remember much,” confessed the brother. “I owe you one, officer. Are you off duty tomorrow? Meet me at the Corner Bar, early afternoon, take in some football. I’ll buy you a beer.”
***
Solomon drifted off to sleep watching a rerun of “A Christmas Carol.” When he awoke and was up and around, it was afternoon. With nothing to do, he mulled the brother’s offer to his favor, knowing he could walk to the Corner Bar.
He was on the sidewalk when a yell came from the landing. It was Kendall, from upstairs. “Eddie! My little brother said a cop drove him home last night after his buddy’s car ran out of gas in the sticks. The cop was kind of short. Was that you? How sweet!”
Solomon yanked up the collar on his plaid coat and signed her a thumbs up. She was speaking down from the balcony. “I had a date with this jerk who went cheap on the popcorn and complained during the whole movie how expensive his Christmas was.”
***
Solomon entered the bar and saw that the football game was on TV. He pulled up a stool and ordered a burger and pub fries. When his food arrived 15 minutes later, he wondered if the brother was going to show up.
A big man in a pair of cowboy boots walked over. Two other men stood behind him.
“Eat your food, pig. I know you. Remember me? I had a fight with my old lady and you busted me. She started it.”
Solomon laughed to himself and asked the bartender to turn up the sound of the football game.
“You don’t listen well, pig,” barked the big man.
Through the door, arriving late, jumped in the brother, who was familiar with the regulars in the bar. “C’mon big Jake, back off. He’s no pig, leave him alone, he’s a good dude.”
Solomon measured the three men carefully as they relented and returned to their table. “Thanks for the assist, man, that guy is a bad actor. I should have never come up here in the first place.”
The brother perked up. “Finish up your food. We can blow this pop stand and go someplace else.”
Solomon shoved his plate aside and pulled on his coat. “I’ll pass. I just live a few blocks from here. I’m going home. Good to see you.”
Over his shoulder, the Christmas wreath on the exit door swung back and forth as the three men of a moment ago left the bar.
The brother persisted, in a friendly tone.
“Is your place close by? Why don’t we go back there and watch the game. I’ll get some beer, and run home, and get my brother Tom. He’s fun to be around when he’s not drunk.”
Solomon zipped up his coat and slowly raised his eyes. He reached out to shake the hand of the brother.
“I live in 4A, the apartments on Green Street around the block. I get all the sports channels on cable. And I know this woman upstairs in my building, maybe she’ll come over too.”
Solomon put his hands in his pockets. He jangled his keys. “You can call me Eddie.”
- Lonely Pig - December 25, 2024
