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As they did at the start of every shift, the intrepid officers of the Colorado New Age Virtue Squad gathered to receive their assignments from Captain Furillo.
Crockett, I want you and Tubbs to head over to Aspen.
There's a report that some creep sneaks out into a public
hallway, and when no one is watching, he lights up a
cigarette once or twice a day.
The rage began to build in Furillo's voice as he
continued. This jerk's toxic, noxious fumes carried more
than 60 feet, over a transom and into an office. The
complaining party said she knew that being exposed to such
massive quantities of passive smoke would damage her health
-- and she already has problems. Her nose runs all the
time, she imagines that there are bugs crawling around
under skin and her septum seems to be rotting away. She's
very concerned about her health and what she puts into her
body.
The captain turned, and rage began to show on his face.
Where in hell are Hunter and Hill? How are supposed to
function around here0 without our Fetal Protection
Team?
You sent them out yesterday to Douglas County, chief,
and they're not back yet.
The hard-bitten captain softened momentarily, but the
steel returned to his spine and the gravel to his voice.
Ought to be a piece of cake for them. Prgnant woman goes
horseback riding and miscarries. They shouldn't have any
trouble booking her for murder, and they're still not back.
Damn.
He turned to two officers in the front row. Okay,
Cagney and Lacey. You're going to have to handle this.
We've got a report that two women just entered a clinic in
Boulder.
Why is that our job?
Lacey honked in her Brooklyn
accent.
Because they're going in there for operations, that's
why. If they were just carrying bombs or hatchets, you know
we wouldn't be worried about it.
Chastened and silent, the two prepared to depart as Furillo looked down his list. He saw a note that bodies had been discovered buried on a ranch in Kit Carson County, but Furillo skimmed over that. He also passed over a report that 30,000 residents of Adams County were drinking poisoned water. When it came to protecting public health and welfare, Furillo knew his priorities.
Before he could look up, his two undercover men, Wojohowitz and Harris, strode into the room, leading a teenage boy and girl in handcuffs.
They were kissing.
The disgust was evident in
Harris's cultivated tone.
Furillo turned to the quaking couple. Don't you kids
know that some pleasures are reserved for later in life?
You kids want to have fun, you ought to stick to something
legal and safe, like fornication with latex safety shields.
That kissing stuff -- didn't anybody ever tell you about
saliva-transmitted diseases? You're supposed to wait until
your married for that.
He nodded, and the adolescents
were led away.
Furillo resumed the assignments. Friday and Gannon,
you head down to Pueblo. The local cops picked up eight
people there yesterday that weren't doing their running.
There seems to be a conspiracy afoot -- it might involve
thousands of criminals shirking their duty to be
healthy.
Starsky, you and Hutch are going to be out of town
for a while. Somebody's smuggling red meat into Gunnison,
and you have got to stop it. Baretta, haven't you nailed
those sugar-eaters yet? Colombo, check out that café on
Colfax that's supposed to be serving coffee with real
caffeine in it.
Furillo wiped his brow and sighed as a new report came in. Child abuse. It sickened him. But he knew that he'd make them pay. Nobody was going to feed a kid a Twinkie and get away with it, not as long as Furillo and his team were on the job.
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