Condition Other Than Normal: Finding Peace In a World Gone Mad. Gary Tetterington

      It was best to parley with the man. Being on night – shift and still somewhat primitive back then, the bluecoat never had full access as to who I was and who I was about to become. The officer on duty had no way to grasp, no data available, no information, with respects to the reputable and infamous deed I had left behind in the North Country.

      I fast – rapped that slow – shift copper with a mean – paced yarn. The nut of the story was that I was in solid. With covert and clandestine amigos of his on the force. I even hinted at names, officers he readily would have recognized as being his superiors. Actually, the names did belong to credible and prudent gumshoes, coppers who had put the iron on me a time or 2 but the big dummy had no way of knowing about those juicy items.

      We compromised on $185 and a promise to appear. Afterwards, I had just enough money, with the double I had stashed in my boot, to pay for the hack to the airport.

      John and I scarce made our Montreal connection. As the plane took off and arced eastward, I couldn’t resist one last look back at Edmonton, a town full of rubes and I knew and could appreciate greatly, that, somewhere down below, was yet another lawman, no longer upwardly mobile because of me. I felt like Houdini.

      All is well.

      G.B.T.