Len was on his way back to the fire station after a call. It was lunch time, and Marion's house was nearby so, on impulse, he decided to stop and have lunch with her. He picked up the radio mike and pressed the "transmit" button.
"James County Emergency Operations Center from Medic One," he said.
"James County Emergency Operations Center on, go ahead, Medic one," came the reply.
"I'll be out at 2125 Jenkins street, personal," he said. "On the air and available."
"James County Emergency Operations Center copies, Medic One," the dispatcher replied. "You'll be out at 2125 Jenkins, on the air and available."
Len turned from Main Street onto Jenkins Street and started toward Marion's house. Now that Marion and her husband were getting a divorce, it was possible for Len's relationship with her to be more open. He smiled, thinking how pleased she'd be that he was stopping for lunch, even though he'd be seeing her when he got off duty in a few hours.
Len drove down the street and saw an unfamiliar car sitting in Marion's driveway. "Whose car is that?" the young paramedic wondered. It was a ratty old thing, and it looked as if someone was sitting behind the wheel.
Len picked up the radio mike. "James County Emergency Operations Center from Medic One," he said.
"James County Emergency Operations Center on, go ahead, Medic One," the dispatcher responded.
"Are there any available police units near Jenkins?" Len asked.
"What's the problem, Medic One?" the dispatcher inquired.
"Possible suspicious activity at 2125 Jenkins," Len said.
"I'll check and see if there's a P.D. unit available and have them swing over that way," the dispatcher advised him.
Len braked the rescue squad to a stop at the curb in front of Marion's house. He grabbed his portable radio and opened the door.
"Medic One from James County Emergency Operations," the dispatcher said.
Len, standing outside his truck, keyed the microphone on his portable radio. "Medic One, go ahead James County EOC," he said.
"Police are enroute, ETA five minutes," the dispatcher advised him.
"I copy," Len said. "I'm off at that location."
"Copy, Medic One, you're off at 2125 Jenkins," the dispatcher said.
When Mel Ott, who was sitting in the car in front of Marion Norris's house, saw the fire department rescue truck coming down the street, he was frightened. He thought it was the cops at first. "It's just a fuckin' fire truck," he muttered to himself as the vehicle moved down the street. "I wish Pete would fuckin' hurry up." He was nervous. He wasn't sure why he told Pete he'd do this. He sure as hell wasn't going to need the five hundred bucks Pete was paying him.
Pete Butler had called him earlier in the day. "You busy?" the big man asked.
"Nah," Mel replied.
"You want to make five hundred bucks?" Pete asked.
"You wanna party with sweetie again, is that it, Pete?" Mel asked.
"Maybe later, after I take care of some other business," Pete replied. "I need somebody to drive for me. You wanna do it or not?"
"Sure, why not?" Mel replied. After all, five hundred bucks was five hundred bucks, a man could never have too much money. "What have I got to do, kill somebody?"
"All you gotta do is drive the car," Pete told him. "I'll do the killin'. I'll pick you up at eleven."
Promptly at eleven, Pete showed up at the motel where Mel was staying. "Let's go," he said, impatiently, "I need to get this done." He slid across the front seat of the beat-up old car he was driving, so Mel could get behind the wheel.
"Where are we going?" Mel asked.
"Place over on Jenkins," Pete told him. "2125."
Mel drove across town to the up-scale neighborhood and found the address Pete had given him.
"Pull in the driveway," Pete told him. "If anybody comes, give me three blasts from the horn. I'll be right out. You got that?"
"Anybody comes, give you three blasts on the horn," Mel said. "What are you gonna be doin', anyhow, Pete?"
"Lawyer I know put me in touch with a guy needed somethin' done," Pete told him. "That's all you gotta know." He glowered at Mel. "You got any problem with that?"
"Yeah, OK, man, it's cool," Mel said. "No problem."
"Be out in a few minutes," Pete said after Mel pulled into the driveway of the house. He got out of the car and walked around to the back of the house.
When the fire truck stopped in front of the house only moments after Pete had gone into the back yard, Mel didn't know what to do. It wasn't the cops, it was the fire department, and it was only one guy, a young nigger fireman. "Goddamn niggers," Mel thought. "They get all the fuckin' good jobs!"
Marion was in the kitchen, taking the dishes out of the dishwasher, when the door flew open and a huge man wearing a black ski mask over his face burst into the house. She screamed and started backing across the kitchen as the man came toward her.
Len had just finished talking to the dispatcher when he heard Marion's scream. He bolted from the truck and started running toward the house, holding his portable radio to his mouth.
"EOC from Medic One!" he yelled. "Get the cops here now! I have a woman screaming at this location."
Mel heard the woman's screams and saw the young black firefighter start running toward the house, holding a radio to his mouth. Thinking surprisingly quickly, he started the car, put it in reverse, and leaned on the horn.
"Jamestown EOC to Medic One," the dispatcher said as Len sprinted toward the house.
Len wasn't thinking about his own safety, all he knew was that Marion was in trouble. He heard the car in the driveway starting and the horn start to blow, but he ignored that and ran by the car.
"Go ahead, EOC," he panted.
"Police are responding Code three, should be there any second," the dispatcher said.
"Copy, EOC," Len gasped. He turned the corner at the garage and started for Marion's back door.
Pete heard the sound of the car horn and figured something was up. "You ain't seen the last of me, bitch," he growled at Marion then he turned and left the house. As he ran toward the front of the house, he almost bumped into Len.
Pete saw the badge and uniform and thought it was a cop. Without breaking stride, he swung his arm, hit the guy, and saw him fall. He kept going, got in the car, and felt it jolt as Mel put it in gear. "Get the fuck goin'!" he yelled.
Mel didn't need to be told twice. He backed out of the driveway, jammed the car in "drive", then he squealed down the street.
Bumping into the man knocked Len off balance, so when the fist hit his shoulder, it didn't hurt much, but it did send him tumbling into the bushes next to Marion's garage. As he fell, his portable radio dropped from his hand.
He struggled to get out of the bushes and back to his feet, and started looking for the radio. Spotting it, he grabbed it continued toward Marion's back door, putting the radio to his mouth. "EOC from Medic One," he panted.
"James County EOC, go ahead, Medic One," the dispatcher replied.
"The suspects have fled the scene," he told the dispatcher. "Two white males, driving a black over blue Olds Cutlass, probably early eighties model. I didn't get a plate number."
The sound of a wailing siren came closer, then tires squealed out in front of the house.
"Tell the officers I'm at the back of the house," Len said into his radio as he walked up onto Marion's back porch and into the house.
He found Marion leaning against the kitchen counter, white as a ghost, her eyes wide. When she saw Len, she bolted across the room and wrapped her arms around him.
"Medic One, you OK?" a male voice yelled from outside.
"Yeah, I'm fine, I'm inside," Len said, putting one arm around Marion. "The bad guys split."
