“It was a quiet night, the kind of night with trouble lurking around the corner. The kind of night where…”
“Oye, who ya talking to there Dicky?” Dicko’s boyish face and Sydney accent jolted Ed from his monologue.
“Stop calling me Dicky, goddamn it!”
“Whoa hey now don’t go spitting the dummy at me, mate.”
The partners were an unlikely pairing: Dickson the hardened veteran coming off an injury, returning to the beat from a long break; Dicko the young kid fresh from down under, ready to tackle crime in the Emerald City. Their grizzled Chief of Police, a hero of Seattleites young and old, bounded over to Dickson’s desk.
“All right guys, got a really really big opportunity this week. Got to have it, really jacked about this one.” The Chief liked to smack his gum energetically between words. “Now, this next one is a big case for us, can’t wait to see how you play it. Got to go out there and compete every week. Go cops.” The Chief handed Dickson the folder, turned, and left with a mighty fist pump.
The pair looked down at, then opened the manila envelope, removing the case file and a list containing persons of interest.
“Looks like there’s trouble on 4th Avenue, Dicko. Let’s roll.” An eager Dickson left Dicko’s desk, on which he had been sitting.
“Bonzer, lemme skull this vitamin B and shoot through.” Confused, Dickson looked at his partner, who immediately grabbed a Victoria Bitters from his desk, shotgunned it in one go, crushed the can on his head, and kicked it across the room where it nailed Officer 21, who crumpled to the floor in pain. (Looks like our heroes’ buddy, old number 21, is headed back to injured reserve.)
“Right, let’s dash,” Dicko added nervously as the pair headed down to their car.
“There’s been a robbery down at the Wells Fargo — we have to find the perp,” Dickson gruffly said to his partner as he switched on the lights and punched the gas.
“In Suite One? Sounds like they really went for it.”
“Don’t be absurd Dicko, no one ever goes for it on 4th and One.”
/On cue, our two heroes look out the window together, as if breaking the fourth wall./
“Crikey!” The exclamation was all Dicko could muster before their squad car rear-ended a pickup truck. Dickson swerved off the road to avoid the tsunami of traffic in front of them that surely no one from Seattle could have expected downtown at 5 PM. Shattering glass and screeching tires punctured the cityscape as their squad car caught more air than a Dukes of Hazard episode. The car rolled to a halt and Dickson crawled out the battered and busted luxury crossover that’s definitely not an SUV.
“Ol’ Vic woulda never done us in like this,” Dicko panted, pulling himself from the wrecked justicemobile.
“C’mon kid, probably faster this way anyways.” Dickson brushed off the broken glass as the two left their wheels behind like some used up rideshare bike.
As D and D arrived at the bank ready to tackle the case, they met the bank manager in the lobby. He was a short man, with short curly black hair and mocha complexion.
“G’day, you the boss man here?” Dicko asked the nervous-looking man.
“It was a big moment, you know, and I’ve been fortunate. I kept repeating to myself ‘I’m here, I’m here’ but they just wanted all the money. I tried to tell him ‘look through hard work and just showing up to work every day I got here why not you?’ but they took their sacks and they left.”
“Sacks?” asked Dickson.
“Oh, loads of sacks, just hit us again and again. A whole line formed, a procession really, and just sack after sack. Cleaned us out.”
“Reckon you could tell us what these blokes looked like?” Dicko asked as he scribbled down the frightened man’s account.
“THERE’S ONE OF THEM RIGHT THERE!” the manager yelled. Dickson and Dicko swiveled to spot the menace.
“Holy dooley!” yelped the rookie.
One of the bank tellers screamed, and the whole bank froze. Will our heroes be safe? Will anyone in Seattle ever go for it on 4th and One? Find out in our next thrilling installment of Dickson ‘n Dicko!