Cruise by Jurgen von Stuka Read Free Book Online

of wimps,” said Bibi to the three bleeding men in her hall.
    “Cops are coming,” said the old man who lived on the second floor as he moved slowly down the stairs. He had a long, heavy stick in his hand and was watching Bibi and the three goons as he navigated the steel stairs with caution.
    “You won’t need the nightstick,” Bibi told him with a grin. “I think these three are out of business for awhile.
    “You never know with them,” the man said as he reached the landing and then sat down, exhausted from his descent, on the last step, watching the bloody trio and slowly swinging the stick so that it made a rapping sound as it landed in the palm of his left hand. Bibi knew he was a former DB railroad police officer and they had shared stories from time to time when the man felt well enough to chat. “This trash will go to the hospital and be back on the street by tomorrow,” he said sadly. “Here, you might need this,” he said as he extended his hand and gave Bibi a small handcuff key. She unlocked the single cuff from her hand and went over to the moaning delivery guy, cuffing his hands behind his back as he cried and begged for help.
    “Yes,” she said. “Probably, but they’ll need new teeth and maybe some serious rehab. They may have to settle for easier targets next time.” Outside, the two-toned warble of the police vehicles pulling up in front of the building was heard.
    The Berlin police quickly recognized Bibi, remembering her from previous encounters. Men and women police officers liked her and respected her style, knowing she was on their side. More than once they arrived on a crime scene with Bibi standing or sitting in the background; a display of felons lying about in various states of disrepair. The cops were friendly, efficient and courteous to Bibi and her ex-cop friend. They let him do most of the talking and insisted that, despite their injuries, the trio be cuffed to the rolling gurneys as the EMT crew trundled them out the door to the waiting ambulance.
    “You’re a railroad cop?” one of the officers asked the old neighbor.
    “Yeah. Die Bahn. Retired,” he said.
    “What train ran over these three?” the cop asked with a serious expression of his young face.
    “They fell down four flights of stairs,” the former rail cop answered, also straight-faced.
    “Yeah,” said the officer, putting his notebook away and taking off his white-topped hat. “Looks that way. They must have tripped over each other all the way down. You see it happen?” he addressed Bibi.
    “Some of it,” she replied. “The rest of the time I was busy.”
    “We saw the whole thing,” the two remaining old women neighbors shouted together from over the stair railings. “Do you want our statements?” asked one woman hopefully.
    “Sure, sure. Thanks,” said the cop wearily as he started up the stairs, still looking curiously at Bibi with her blood-streaked jeans and stained T-shirt. As usual, she wore no bra and the nipples of her large, heavy breasts thrust outward aggressively against the thin cotton of the shirt.
    “You sure you’re okay?” he asked, trying not to stare too hard at the jiggling, fulsome globes under the shirt.
    “I’m fine. Once they got in here, I just tried to help them out,” said Bibi, extending her arms outward, explaining the blood.
    “Looks like you did okay,” said the cop. “How did they get in?”
    “I was dumb enough to open the door. Said they had a delivery. That box over there,” she said, pointing to the package on the floor in the entryway.
    The cop put his peaked cap back on his shaking head, turned and climbed the stairs, laughing to himself.
    Bibi went outside, retrieved the undelivered package and handed it to the second cop who was making notes as he stood in the doorway.
    “What’s this,” he asked, looking at the package.
    “They were supposedly trying to deliver this to me,” Bibi said. “Should we open it? It could be a