“Not so easy. Many a fellow out in the sticks pounding a beat would like to be on the detective force. It’s more dangerous. But you have more freedom. And you get a bigger kick out of it. If you get there quick you’ve got to get a break. I got a break.
“Queer sort of thing,” he mused as one will who is about to spin a yarn. “I was off duty, dressed in knickers, driving home in my car, with a friend, from a golf game. Traffic light stopped us. Fellow, tough looking egg, stuck a cannon in my face and said: ‘Stick ’em up!’”
“What did you do?” Johnny leaned forward eagerly.
“What would you have done?”
“You weren’t on duty. Weren’t wearing your star?”
“Not wearing my star, that’s right. But in a way an officer of the law is never off duty. Many a brave fellow has been killed because he stepped into something when he was in civilian clothes and off duty.
“My friend that was with me was a real guy. He wouldn’t have squawked if I had given that bad egg my money and driven on.
“But you know, that’s not the way a fellow’s mind works. No, sir! You say to yourself, ‘This guy’s got the drop on me. I’ve got to get him. How’ll I do it?’”
“What did you do?” Johnny’s coffee was cooling on the table.
“I said, ‘Please, Mister, don’t shoot me. I’m a young fellow. I don’t want to die. I’ll give you everything, but don’t shoot!’ Stalling for time. See?