Thursday, October 31, 2013

Blind Luck (Part 2)

As I locked the door behind their reluctant departure, the phone rang.  My husband.  Just as happened after the first assault in the store.  This guy has a sixth sense about these things.  It’s like he knows when I am in trouble and calls to check on me.  If only he could hone that to call and warn me before these encounters happen.  And like the previous incident in the store, I didn’t answer on his first attempt. 

Well, I couldn’t that first time.  I was busy trying to cut myself loose from the thongs and curtain tassels that bound my hands and feet.  Yes, I am reminded of the embarrassment of reading the news clip of the robbery:
Assailant tied store owner up with thong, stole some
lubricant and left the premise before police arrived.

Did the reporter mention that the store owner resisted attempts by the perpetrator to take her to the back of the store, where there would have been no way out, no alarms to press, with nothing but quiet and time to ponder life, perform an act that would leave more scar tissue on old scar tissue?

No.  I loosed the ropes at my feet and hobbled to the phone, hands still tied, to call my husband back, only to hang up on him mid-sentence when the police arrived.  And this second time around, before calling my husband back to report the same thing I reported to him two years prior, I unlocked the door moments after I had locked it, to peak out for another look at my would be assaulters, who had now increased to three.  It seems, two were on in-store duty and the third was the handoff outside in case police caught the two, they would have nothing on their persons, and be released to join the third where they would divvy up the proceeds and continue their festivities that evening.  I then returned to the phone to call my husband when I noticed a policeman crouching in front of the store window, gun raised, in a ready-to-shoot stance.

Gotta go.  The cops are here.  And again I hung up on him just as I had done during the first incident, walked to the door to unlock it.  It was my buddy from the local police department.

Hey, Nick.
“Damn, Eden.  You scared the shit out of me!  I couldn’t see you from outside. I thought something had happened to you.”
Yeah, you can’t see me when I am behind the counter and on the phone.  

Another blind spot.  Note to self:  Should you ever open another store, you are no longer allowed to design the layout.

Nick was the first officer to enter my store a few months after it opened to take my complaint
when I had another knucklehead keep calling me after leaving the store to talk dirty to me and ask me to meet him after I closed.  He called four times before I decided it might be a good idea to report him and his personal phone number that kept coming up on caller ID to the police.  Nick is an expert in close combat weapons, a Special Forces operative who works as a beat officer for the local police department in between his stints in the Force.  He is a handsome, burly, dees dems and dose kinda guy, who you would not be surprised to see repel off your storefront and through your glass window in pursuit of a criminal.  Nick has a wife who answers the 9-1-1 calls in the same department, who is a 4’8”, size 1 dress to his 6’1”, size 44 jacket.  He is a puppy dog sweet guy who suggested I get a gun for behind the counter, to which I responded, and what happens if a child running behind the counter finds it, or the perpetrator wrests it away from me or one of my employees, and besides, I have no desire to wipe up someone’s blood off the floor or off of my merchandise which is probably not covered on my insurance policy anyway.

Well, how about a Taser?  I can get you one and teach you how to use it.”
No blood?
“No blood, just a great big jolt of electricity to knock anyone to the ground for awhile.”
How long is awhile?
“As long as you keep sending them jolts.  There are a couple of wires like fishhooks that attach to their clothing.  You stand away from them and keep pulling the trigger if they try to get up.”
Perfect.  I want one.  When can you get me one?
“I will get you the number of a friend of mine who can get you one.”

He gave me the number.  I called and found out the Taser Nick was talking about was only legal for the police force.  The one I would be able to own had one short wire, one quarter of the voltage of Nick’s toy, which meant I would have to be a really good shot to get it attached and the short wire would put me right next to the creep, who then might grab my leg or knock me down or wrestle it away from me.  It wasn’t fool proof so I nixed that idea.

...to be continued.......


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