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Tom's
Page > Writing > Degrees & Inches -
Chapter Twelve
| This is an exert from Chapter Twelve of Degrees
and Inches. Please note that these works must be considered only as 'in progress'. Most of it is in a raw, unedited form. It contains numerous misspellings, grammatical errors, run-ons, fragments and every other possible error. including personal judgement, opinion and stereotyping. But I've found that when the mood to write strikes me I better get my thoughts down on paper. The editing will also take place here so there will be constant changes. |
"People are creatures of habit. They do the same thing every day. Over and over again. That’s how you catch them." The words of his professor in Criminalistics way back in college ran through his head. Okay, he wasn’t a real college professor. He didn’t have a Ph.D. and tenure and all that. And he only taught one class a week. Well he taught the same class twice each week. Once in the morning and again in the evening so no matter what the working street officers could attend lecture. What Professor Kousalis did have was have was 30 years in the United States Army Criminal Investigation Command. His association with the military started with his first Army ROTC course and finished his college education with a BS from Indiana University in Education and immediately commissioned as a 2nd Lieutenant. His very first command was that of a platoon leader of a Military Police Company. His path through the passageways of the military were varied and wide. A graduate of the FBI National Academy, a Masters of Forensic Sciences program from George Washington University and rising to the rank of general where he was the Commandant of the U.S. Army Military Police School at Fort McClellan. In police parlance, he knew his shit. "If they do it once, they will do it again. It’s just a matter of observing" as he paced back and front of the packed classroom. He's seen the proof again and again. People are creatures of habit. He watched it again through the scope as the doctor walked around his Lincoln Navigator, like he did every morning. Hey! Well, there was something different this time. A big grin broke across his face. The good doctor was packing heat. A shoulder holster! Had the circumstances been different he would be rolling on the floor, laughing his ass off. A goddamned Dirty Harry, Smith and Wesson revolver. Maybe it was a .44 Magnum. What was the old saying? Like bringing a knife to a gun fight? Shit, a .44, I am sooo scared. "Hey pal, you better bring a .308 if you want to compete in this league. "This is so funny...." © Thomas N. Wood, 2002-2004 All Rights Reserved This work, or any portion thereof, may not be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the express written consent of the author. |
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