I was just out on a random patrol when I got a call for a neighbour's dispute along one of the back roads leading out of town. You know the type of road, wanders out of town and into the bush, not going anywhere in particular. Turned up at the neighbours to find an old guy yelling at the mother of a teenager, threatening mayhem and murder, with the mother yelling back just as enthusiastically.
Turned out the little shit had done some not particularly artistic graffiti on the old guy's garage and he wanted to give the kid what-for. The mother was totally against her little angel being called to account for his sins.
"Listen, Mr Grigalow," I said soothingly. "As much as you might like to clout the kid like this," demonstrating with a hearty slap to the back of the kid's head, "it's just not permitted. You run along and I'll speak to little Johnny here, make him see reason."
"You hit me," snarled the little mongrel as soon as Mr Grigalow was on his way. "I'm suing."
"What, like this?" I asked, giving him an even harder clout. "I never did. I have an independent witness who will testify to that." I indicated the retreating back of Mr Grigalow.
"You hit me again. My mother saw you. She'll tell."
"Her word would be discounted. She's your mother. And she won't say a peep while her speeding fines are overdue," I said, giving her a meaning look. If she complained she could find herself walking rather than driving, and she knew it.
"Now you listen to me, you little shit. You're going to clean that graffiti off and do it pretty quickly. If you don't I'll run you in for vandalism. You'd better smarten up a little or when you need someone to pull your ass from the icy waters you'll find them holding you under instead. And you're not doing him any favours protecting him all the time," I said to his mother. "If you don't bring him into line someone else will and it won't be pretty."
Basically, that was the end of the affair. I might have mentioned a couple of minor misdemeanours that we could have lumbered Johnny with but hadn't - so far. She got the message loud and clear. Still, the next time that Johnny did something stupid I was pulling him in. Let her try to brush if off then.
I headed back towards town. Now the back road was rather a lonely road, very much under-travelled, and I wasn't really expecting to meet any traffic. But I did meet someone. I was approaching a blind bend when this motorbike came hurtling around the bend, drifting right over to the wrong side of the road. The rider spotted me just in time, swerved, nearly coming off, and managed to straighten and keep going. I gave a short burst of the siren and waited. That bike wasn't going anywhere meaningful up that road and we both knew it.
The bike slowed down and stopped, and the rider came reluctantly back to where I was waiting. I was out of the car and leaning negligently against it.
"Off," I said when she pulled up next to me and she got off, even more reluctantly.
"License?" I asked.
"Um, I don't have it on me," she confessed. "It's at home."
"I see. Helmet?"
"Um, yes, that's at home, too."
"You know you're not permitted to ride without a helmet. Looks like you'll be walking home. Fortunately it's not too far. A matter of curiosity, have you got any clothes in your saddle bags? No? Then you should have a very interesting walk home."
I was now the recipient of a rather sulphurous gaze.
"Do you have any ID on you?"
"You know damn well I haven't. Anyway, you know who I am."
"That's true. You're Diana Holmes, aged eighteen. But I can't write a ticket without checking the name against formal ID. Maybe I'd better run you in and we can sort it out at the station."
