I fear I have been neglecting you, dear readers, and you have been fleeing in droves. Or politics is distracting you, or something. Whatever. However, the lack of readership has prompted me to delve back into the memory banks, and write of The Good Old Days. Or not. If you want to know what’s going on in my head, you can go to my Tumblr site, where I paste all kinds of junk I find on the interwebs that interests me.
Now, mind you this bank robbery occurred many years ago in Windy Point. Back when the town had 2½ cops. Fun. A little set up. The town had two banks, across the street from each other. OK, the Post Office was in between them. The street was a local highway, so you got quite a bit of traffic through there. And when trucks would use their compression brakes (that’s a jake brake to you truckers), it would set off the bank alarms. In addition, this was so long ago that the banks still closed at noon for lunch, and at three, except on Friday. Ah, for banker’s hours.
Because trucks would set off the alarms, the procedure was that the town clerk, who was the police dispatcher in the daytime, would call the bank, and the bank would either say yes or no. On this particular day, the alarm went off right before noon, the clerk called, and unexpectedly got a “yes” answer. Oh, dear. So she did a radio call to Barney, who was theoretically on duty. Ummm….except that he was washing the police car, at the car wash directly across from the bank. In only an old pair of pants and t-shirt and barefoot.
He goes over to the bank, and of course, they’re all upset. You would be too, if a masked man had pointed a gun at you. But there were a couple of level-headed citizens around, they tell Barney the guy went thataway. So Barney hops in the car and takes off after them. Out there on the prairie it is easy to lose someone. You wouldn’t think so, but there are so many dips in the road where you lose sight of someone ahead of you. And so many places to turn off that go nowhere. It’s like smoke.
So, soon he’s back in town, and putting on his uniform, so that he doesn’t look like a doofus in front of the FBI. The FBI takes over, and that’s pretty much the end of that. Whoever it was, was never caught, at least for that robbery. But, I figure it was a local, ie, someone who lived out on the prairies within 100 miles, and knew that just before noon was a good time to rob a small-town bank, especially if the cop was busy washing the police car.