Engine 51 pulled up in front of an all too familiar house. They had been
here many times before. The guy that lived here had a knack for having engine
blocks fall on him or for blowing up the garage entirely.
Captain Stanley noted with approval that the garage had not been rebuilt.
He expected the guy's frantic wife to meet them in the driveway as usual.
There was no sign of her. Instead a Black and White police squad car sat
in the driveway.
Suddenly the front door was yanked opened and Jim Reed ran out to meet
them.
"What's up, Jim?" Stanley asked as he looked around for any sign of the squad.
They had not been at the station when the call came in but were at another
rescue in this area. Dispatch had assigned them this call so they should
be here by now.
"It's our boss. Hurry!"
It was fairly rare that Jim Reed did not speak in something of a monotone
so Stanley knew that this must be serious.
"He just bought this place," Jim went on providing more information than
was needed as he was wont to do. "He'd been doing renovations over the weekend
but then, when he didn't show up at work this morning, Pete and I decided
we'd better check it out. That's when we called you guys."
"But what happened?" Stanley tried again as they followed Jim into
the living room of the house.
Pete Malloy squatted in front of the overturned bookcase that was in the
middle of the floor. "It's okay, Mac. Help is here," Pete assured the man
who was under the heavy bookcase.
Only the man's head was visible but it was enough to stop Stanley cold in
his tracks. The normally calm captain suddenly became a tower of raging and
conflicting emotions -- fear, rage, disgust, suspicion and other neurocies
fought for the cap's attention. "McConnike!" he muttered.
Chet and Marco were right behind him. They too saw the Chief laying on the
floor.
"Who?" Malloy asked. "This is Sergeant MacDonald, our boss at the
precinct."
"Pardon me for not getting up," MacDonald panted.
The firemen just stared in disbelief. This man was the spitting image of
Chief McConnike!
"Fellas," Malloy said with authority. "Wanna help us lift this bookcase off
of him?"
"Oh," Stanley shook his head to clear it. "I don't think that's such a good
idea. We'd better wait till the paramedics arrive. They'll be able to make
sure he's stable before we do anything which might make matters worse."
"I'd be willing to chance it," MacDonald puffed. He was obviously in pain.
"I wouldn't," Stanley once more took charge. This man was the spitting image
of his arch enemy. What he wouldn't give to get McConnike at his mercy like
this.
"They say everyone has a double and Johnny sure found that out, but this
is weird," Chet whispered to Marco.
"Speaking of Johnny," Stanley said. "Get on the horn and see if you can get
an ETA on that squad they should have been here by now they were closer than
we were."
Both Chet and Marco ran out back out to the street. No one liked being around
the cap when he was having a McConnike day.
"Hey, Mike," Chet called, "Cap wants you to get on the horn and get an ETA
on the squad."
"I have to talk?!!" Mike whined.
"You're the engineer. You get the big bucks," Chet called back.
"You know all the houses in these gringo neighborhoods look exactly alike,"
Marco complained.
"They plan it that way. I grew up in a neighborhood just like this. The houses
looked just like this. Take that house over there -- looks just like the
Cleavers' house."
"Who?"
"Kids I grew up with. My older brother was pals with Wally but I kind of
idolized Wally's friend Eddie Haskell, myself. The Cleavers, though, they
were supposed to be the all American family. Perfect down to the letter.
Everyone always wanted to be just like the Cleavers. HA! Little did they
know?" Chet broke out in laughter.
"Who know what?" Marco asked.
"The neighborhood. Things didn't turn out so rosey for the Cleavers, after
all. After the kids grew up the mom turned into a real looney toon. Took
to wearing striped socks and she gathered up all the kids old stuffed animals
and set them up in a room -- called it a nursery -- started talking to them
like they were real. What a wacko. And Wally! Ha! Roy and John picked
him up during a fire! He'd been looting! So much for the perfect family,
huh?"
"Squad's been delayed and they can't get anyone else for 30 or 40 minutes.
Damn! The whole paramedic program goes to hell in a handbasket when Dwyer
goes on vacation," Stoker called to them.
"Did you hear that?!!" Marco gasped in shock.
"I've never heard him say so many words!" Chet paled in disbelief.
"Not that!! No squad. That guy in there needs medical help. Look,
I know this street. That's Dr. Welby's house over there. My cousin Consuela
works for him. I'm going to go see if he can help." Marco set out with
determination.
Chet just shrugged. The cap had not given them permission to leave the yard
and he wasn't about to cross the cap when he was having a McConnike day.
He wondered what ever had happened to Eddie Haskell and the Beav.
Marco pushed the office door opened. There were no patients in the waiting
room. It took him a minute to spot his cousin. She was watering the plants.
She heard the bell on the door jingle and looked around. "Marcolito!!!!"
She was delighted to see him.
"Hola. Consuela. I'm afraid this is not a social visit. Is Dr. Welby
around?"
"No. He's making house calls this morning since we had no appointments scheduled.
Are you sick, Marcolito?" She ran up to him and pressed her hand to his
forehead.
"No, no, nothing like that. The man across the way has had an accident--"
"I thought that that klutz moved out!!"
"It's the new owner."
"Madre de Dios -- the house must be cursed!!!!" Consuela ran to her desk
and dug her purse out of the drawer. She fished around till she found her
rosary beads.
"Well, he needs medical attention and our paramedics have been delayed. Do
you have any suggestions?"
"I know!" Consuela brightened. "That young doctor -- what's his name -- oh
yes -- Kiley that Dr. Welby has just taken on. He's not doing anything but
sitting around his room listening to Barbara Streisand records and mooning
like a fool. He swears he's going to marry her someday. What a dreamer, huh?
I guess he's better than nobody. I'll send him over. Go along now. Shoo,
shoo."
Soon Marco walked back across the street. He was followed a few minutes later
by a young man on a motorcycle. "That's Dr Kiley?" Marco said doubtfully
as he and Chet followed the young man inside.
"Squad 51, where are you?" Chet sang.
They'd had some pretty wacky calls so far today. There was the fire at Sanford's
Junkyard that turned out to be the owner doing barbeque. The old guy almost
had a heart attack when they pulled up in Big Red. The fat actor that got
stuck in the horse troth at the Gunsmoke set. Now this guy who was the spitting
image of McConnike.
Dr. Kiley was able to stabilize Sgt. MacDonald after they had all lifted
the heavy bookcase off of him. He wasn't actually hurt that badly but they
sent him in to Rampart as a precaution. The worst part of the whole rescue
was the doctor's off key, repetitious singing of "People, people who need
people are the luckiest people in the world."
Sgt. McDonald muttered that the doctor was lucky he couldn't reach his service
revolver.
Just as the ambulance was pulling away, squad 51 pulled up.
"We're really sorry about that, Cap," Johnny apologized sincerely. "We were
stuck over at that Brady house. One of the boys hit one of the girls in the
nose with a football. It was pure bedlam! This was the soonest we could make
it. Everything okay here?"
"Don't ask," Stanley said through clenched teeth. "Don't even ask."
He walked stiff-legged back to the rig and climbed on. "Let's go back to
the station before anything else can happen."