Cop It Sweet

Although she was not running overly late, Prue was sure the white rabbit had nothing on her. She waddled out of the market, each arm sagging under the weight of a dozen shopping bags looped around fingers, wrists and thumbs. Some clinked together alarmingly as their glass contents made contact with others.

The police car parked in the very next bay dwarfed Prue’s hatch. “No doubt they're getting a late lunch,” she muttered, and guiltily she looked for a yellow slip on her windscreen.

Prue lowered her arms and gently rested her shopping bags on the ground. She rummaged in her handbag for her car keys, thinking for the millionth time that she must clean the rubbish out of her bag. She fished the keys out and popped her bag above the driver’s window, her mind on the week’s consignment of groceries and whether or not she had enough of one thing or another to stick to her food plans.

It wasn’t as though she was OCD but Prue placed her shopping in the back of the car in the order of how urgently she would need to remove it once she got home. And while this took a little concentration, she did not miss the two very tall, rather young men in uniform get into the car next to her. Sure enough, they had sandwich bags and cans of drink.

Even though they barely gave her a sideways glance, Prue felt self-conscious and she did a mental checklist of all the things she might have done wrong which would catch their attention. She started the care and reversed out carefully from her parking spot.

Back of the road, Prue set her mind to the next task = beef stroganoff and lemon meringue pie. Did she have enough time to get them cooked and ready for dinner? She toyed with the idea of stopping at the bottle shop for a nice red wine to go with dinner, looked at her watch, and decided whatever was in the cupboard at home would have to do.

“I have to get a move on,” she muttered. Yellow light … she almost braked but pressed the accelerator a little instead. The light turned red as she crossed the opposite line so she thought she was safe. Her speedo crept up over the limit but she lifted her foot from the accelerator, resisting the temptation as she though of the two gentlemen in the car park finishing their lunch. “You just never know where they are,” she said, just a split second before she heard the siren.

Prue’s heart sank as she pulled over and watched the police officer slide out of the passenger seat of his car, the blue light flashing. He put on his hat and walked around to her window.

“Good morning, driver.” He was polite, his voice deep and he leaned down to her window so he could see her face.

Not usually prone to blushing, Prue felt the colour rise in her cheeks and she cursed inwardly.

“Hello. Er … I wasn’t really speeding. As soon as I saw the speed go over … a tiny bit … I slowed down and it’s certainly not … “

He smiled and waved her to stop. “No. We didn’t detect you speeding, Madam. We needed to pull you over because you … “

And Prue sparked up again. “Well! I really have been meaning to fix that brake light. It usually works and whenever anyone’s looked at the damned thing it works just fine, but every now and again it starts to blink when I put the indicator on a split second before I …”

“No. No,” he said quickly. “I must say I didn’t see any problem with your brakes. If you would just let me explain … “

Prue’s guilt deepened and a thousand little sins started to crowd her brain for attention. Did she have any unpaid parking fines? What about the squeaking shock absorbers she tried to ignore. She was sure she indicated coming out of the carpark. Was her registration paid up … yes, she was sure she hadn’t forgotten … eventually.

“We saw your car backing out of the carpark back there and … “

“I wasn’t in a disabled spot and I’m sure I was well within the time limit, or at least only a minute or two over and I know sometimes ten minutes can seem like a minute but I was really late and I rushed and it just can’t be helped sometimes,” she burst out.

By this time the officer was losing his patience. “No. No, but …

“I looked carefully. I’m sure there was no one behind me. Oh no, did I cut someone off. I’m really sorry.”

“Will you please be quiet for just a minute,” he growled.

Embarrassed into silence, Prue started to bite her fingernails.

“We watched you back out and yes, you did forget something,” he said. He stopped and waited for her to butt in again. She stared at the officer, mortified and waited for the verdict.

He reached up above her window and lifted her handbag down to the window. She stared at it stupidly then looked across at the passenger seat where she usually put it.

“Oh,” she said quietly. “Thank you.”

He stood, stretched his back. “You left it on your roof and you’re welcome.” He began to walk away, then turned around. “I think you might want to get some of those things you mentioned checked out,” he said and winked. “The next cop might not be as understanding.