Archive for the ‘Newtown Creek’ Tag

Down at Newtown Creek Part 2   Leave a comment

On the four by twelve the same day Frank Walsh and John Stern were in sector George. Word had gotten around the precinct that someone was out hunting rats on the midnight.

Over coffee Frank said, “Drive down to where all the rats were shot last night. See if we can find anyone hanging around.”

The Buzzard answered, “Why scare them away? They can come back and shoot a few hundred every night. Last week on a call I was in the basement of an abandoned factory when I heard a noise. I flipped on my flashlight and there were thousands of rats down there. They panicked at the light and the only way out was the stairs I was on. They charged by me. They were on my feet and legs crawling all over me. I almost shit my pants and puked. I hate rats.”

“Come on, don’t be a pussy. Rats are like squirrels with no fur on their tails.”

“I don’t like squirrels either. I’ll drive there but if there are rats all over the place I’m fuckin leaving. Those rabid beady eyed little bastards look at me like a piece of cheese.”

“Don’t worry they don’t come out during the day.”

The Buzzard complained about rats all the way but there were no rats when they got there. Frank and John got out of the car and tried to find where the shots were fired from the night before. They climbed right over the spot where Gerry and Bob shot from but any ejected cases had fallen down between the boards of the pallets. There was no visible evidence. No one considered calling C.S.U out for dead rats. So the case had been closed but it was still interesting to Frank.

After about fifteen minutes The Buzzard said, “Let’s get out of here. There’s nothing to see but blood and little pieces of rats.”

A disappointed Frank said, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Frank was standing at the edge of Newtown Creek. The second most polluted water in New York City. Only the Gowanus Canal was worse. The creek was about seven feet below street level. As Frank turned to return to the car he stopped.

“Hey, John what’s that over there?”

John responded, “Where? If it’s a fuckin rat I’m leaving.”

Frank pointed, “Over there, do you see it? Can you tell what it is?”

John was closer to where Frank pointed. He walked a little way along the edge of the water until he got a clear view.

“Son of a bitch, you make me drive over here to see dead rat parts and now we get stuck with a floater. I’m not going into that shit to see if he is still alive.”

“Look at him. He ain’t never getting any deader than he is right now. You stay here I’ll call the Sgt. and ESU.”

Sgt. Artie Hynes pulled up a few minutes after the call went out.

“Where‘s the floater?”

Frank answered, “Right over there Sarge by the sand bar.”

“That’s not a sand bar. That sand is floating on top of the creek”

The Buzzard said, “How can sand float on water?”

“This isn’t water, this is Newtown creek. God knows what’s in it. Did you call for the M.E. yet?”

“No we were going to wait for ESU to pull him out.”

“I’ll call the squad and ME; ESU will be here long before he is. You two stay with the body.”

John said, “Sarge, what about our meal?”

“I don’t have anyone available to relieve you. You will have to relieve each other.”

After Sgt. Hynes left The Buzzard turned to Frank, “I am not going to stand out here alone waiting for the rats to come out.”

“John, the rats are more afraid of you then you are of them.”

“I don’t care. I’m not staying here alone unless I am in the car.”

“Okay, I’ll call a sector to stop by and we can have them pick up food for us. You can stay in the car.”

ESU arrived five minutes later. Sgt. Hynes and the squad were right behind them.

Hynes called them all together, “I talked to the ME and explained the situation. He said for ESU to bring the body to shore that he sure as hell wasn’t going into the water to check him. He said he should be here in about an hour or so.”

P.O. Moore one of the Emergency Service Officers walked to the edge of the Creek and said, “This should be no problem.”

He turned to his partner and yelled, “Jack get the rope. Toss an end to me when I get the body onto the sand bar.”

As Sgt. Hynes opened his mouth to warn about that “sand bar” Moore jumped. It was a good jump he hit the sand right in the middle and went right through. He came up a couple of seconds later gasping and gagging. All four cops and the Sgt. ran to the edge. The other ESU cop tossed two lines to Moore. Moore tied one end around the DOA and grabbed the second line that his partner threw him.

The four cops heaved Moore up and over onto the street. He was covered in water and only God knows what else. There were green, Red, yellow, Black, brown and purple strings, stains and lumps of slime covering him. Moore was up on his knees puking as the three hauled the body up. It was obvious that the man had been shot at least once. That one was right in the forehead.

The detectives from the precinct squad now got close enough o verify that it was a homicide. Two of the detectives were Artie and Jim. I had been having trouble with those two for a year. They were pretty useless. They had not helped to pull either the cop or the body out because they didn’t want to get their suits or London Fog trench coats stained. At the time just about all the squad wore London Fogs.

Detective Artie said, “This looks like it could be a homicide. I’ll notify the Homicide Squad. We aren’t needed here and he’s ripe. We are going back to the station house.”

As the two drove away Sgt. Hynes shook his head, “There go two useless bastards. Those two couldn’t find a Jew in Israel.”

The ME arrived shortly after and pronounced him dead. He said he would expedite the morgue wagon. They always say that but the cops never believe them. This time apparently he did. When he called it in he said the body was out in the middle of the street so a rush was needed to get him out of there. He didn’t mention that it was in a commercial area and the only people within blocks were the cops. The wagon was there and the body was removed a half hour later.

That night at the change of tours Frank saw Peterson, “Hey Gerry, The Buzzard and I went to where you had the rat shooters last night. To see if we could find anything.”

Gerry said, “Did you?”

“Yeah, we were just getting ready to leave when I spotted something in the water. We found a floater. He was shot in the head.”

Gerry just looked at him for a second and felt a little dizzy. After a few seconds he managed to say, “Do they think he was killed last night?” Visions of prison were dancing in his head.

“No, the ME said he had been in the creek for four or five days. It looks like a mob hit and dump.”

Gerry said, “I better go get changed before I’m late for roll call.”

Gerry ran up to the third floor stopping at the men’s room to throw up before going to his locker. McDuff changing in the locker next to Gerry’s”

When he saw Gerry he said, “Damn, are you sick? You look like shit.”

Gerry answered, “Everything is okay but I almost had a heart attack. I’ll explain when we’re in the car.”



Posted January 31, 2018 by kevingcox in Random Thoughts, Uncategorized

Tagged with , , , , , ,

Down by Newtown Creek   Leave a comment

I am back with a little story, nothing heavy today. But before I get into the story I would like to say my wife Nancy is healing pretty well from her new hip. I told not to say I never get her anything new anymore. She should graduate from walker to cane in a few days which isn’t too bad since she had the operation less than a week ago.

Anyway back to the story. Back in the 70’s the 83 ran north of Flushing Avenue all the way to Maspeth Avenue. This little story may or may not have occurred in that area.  It is a very abridged version of a story in the sequel to “A Year in Bushwick”. I call this version Down by Newtown Creek.

Down by Newtown Creek

Gerry and Bob were working a twelve to eight tour. It was a quiet midnight tour. Sunday going into Monday was often quiet down in Sector George, the factory and warehouse area at the north of the precinct.

Just after 0100 Central called with a recorded burglar alarm down by Newtown Creek. The partners responded there all the time, almost always a false alarm. The building took up a whole block and was over a hundred years old. Five or six times a month when the wind blew the windows would shake setting off the alarm. If there was an actual break it was always through the roof. So as soon as they arrived on the scene it was straight to the roof. They walked the whole roof there were no breaks. When the partners finished checking the roof they were on the opposite corner of the building from their car.

Gerry said, “This is all bullshit. Now we have to walk around this whole damn place checking for breaks.”

Bob shook his head, “Screw that, look we both know it’s a shit call. The wind is shaking the damn windows again. I’ll find a place to climb down on this street. You go to the corner and find a place on that street. I’ll go left you go right and we meet at the car. If we find a break we can give a yell over the radio. If not we can get the hell out of here.”

“Sounds good to me, meet you at the car.”

Gerry climbed down to the street and started walking checking each door and window as he went by. He had gone about forty feet when he heard a high pitched bloodcurdling scream from Bob around the corner followed by several shots. Drawing his gun Gerry ran for his partner.

As Gerry turned the corner he saw why Bob screamed. The street was covered with rats. Not just rats but tens of thousands of rats. It looked like a dirty gray brown carpet and to Gerry it felt like the skittering, squeaking, squealing, slithering swarm was coming right at him. Bob ran by him screaming then it was Gerry’s turn to scream like a twelve year old girl. Gerry turned and ran screaming behind Bob.

See, Bob had climbed down with his back to the street and dropped the last six feet. When he hit the ground something moved under his feet and he fell backwards. He landed flat on his back but not on the street. He landed on rats. He had rats under him, rats on top of him, rats all around him. That is when he screamed and shot a few. His sudden appearance yelling and shooting panicked the rats and they ran in all directions. Bob managed to get to his feet and run that is when he flew past Gerry who was also screaming at the time.

Once back in the car the two cops agreed to never tell anyone how they were chased screaming to their car by rats. They also agreed that they would get revenge.

They stopped back at the precinct to get what they needed from their lockers. They bided their time until things quieted down. At three thirty they decided the time had come. The partners quietly made their way to the spot they had chosen. It had pallets stacked on the side of a building on the rat infested street. Gerry opened his case and laid his equipment out on a pallet.

Gerry put down a .25 Berretta and a Walther PPK a .380, smiling at Bob he said, “These should do the job.”

Bob just shook his head and said, “These will do the job.” He opened his case and pulled out a Ruger Super Black Hawk .44 Magnum and a .45-70 revolver.

Gerry said, “Bob are you insane. We’re going for rats. Those things are for grizzlies.”

Bob smiled, “I don’t want to wound any.”

It was now time for Operation Ratfuck to begin. Gerry opened up on the rats. He started with his .25. It had a short barrel but accuracy wasn’t really necessary. There were so many rats in front of them it would be impossible to miss hitting one if you fired in the general direction. Each shot he fired dropped a couple of rats.

Gerry said to Bob, “See the twenty five is all you need.” just as Bob fired the 45-70. Rats flew in all directions several of them torn in half.

The two opened up when the rats started moving. As each emptied a gun they would just drop it and start shooting with the next. In less than ten seconds all guns were empty. The street was now clear of living rats. In the area Gerry was firing there were over two dozen dead rats. Where Bob fired there were only pieces. Lots and lots of pieces.

Within minutes the first calls came from Central of shots fired at their location. Gerry answered the call, “83 George enroute.”

The two cops threw the guns into their gym bags and tossed the bags into the trunk of the car. They could hear sector cars closing in on them as they gave the disposition back.

“83 George to Central, Have the responding units slow down. It looks like the shooters are gone on arrival. They were apparently shooting rats. There are dead rats all over the street.”

Sgt. Capp arrived on the scene, “Did you two see anything?”

“No, Sarge.”

“I guess you didn’t hear anything either?”

“Not a thing Sarge.”

“Okay, leave the rats for sanitation to take care of. You two go wash the gun powder off your hands.

“Yes, sir will do.”

So ended the great rat safari.  Bob and Gerry got their revenge and felt a bit less embarrassed about screaming like little girls earlier.

The next night at the change of tours Wild Eyes Willie from the four by twelve stopped Gerry, “Hey Gerry, The Buzzard and I went to where you had the rat shooters last night. To see if we could find anything.”

Gerry said, “Did you?”

“Yeah, we were just getting ready to leave when I spotted something in the water. We found a floater. He was shot in the head.”

Gerry just looked at him for a second and felt a little dizzy. Thinking a stray shot had hit someone. The area should have been deserted at that time. After a few seconds he managed to say, “Do they think he was killed last night?”  As visions of prison danced in his head.

“No, the ME said he had been in the creek for four or five days. It looks like a mob hit and dump.”

Gerry said, “I better go get changed before I’m late for roll call.”

Gerry ran up to the third floor stopping at the men’s room to throw up before going to his locker. Bob was changing in the locker next to him.

When he saw Gerry he said, “Damn, are you sick? You look like shit.”

Gerry answered, “I’ll explain in the car.”

Posted May 29, 2017 by kevingcox in Random Thoughts

Tagged with , , , , ,

Marion Harmon, A Writer in Vegas.

Just another site

Aethereal Engines

Stories of Imaginative and Speculative Fiction by Jason H. Abbott

Michael Ray King

Book Coach, Award-winning Author, Motivational Speaker


My Elicits, an Inception... Learning to Live in Perfection

The Jenny Mac Book Blog

Jenny Mac and the Man of Secrets

Rolling on the Floor laughing !!!

Smile :) >> You’re at The Best and Funniest Rofl Blog Ever

borough of lost boys

creative non-fiction. pursuit of truth.


The official Moolta Blog


a celebration of life

The Eagle's Nest

The Everything, Nothing, Something, Anything, My Thing weblog

Parenting And Stuff

Not a "how to be a great parent" blog

Christ! Xmas

all about Christmas and Santa.

Blood Mass

They kill at night then hide in the day.

Whisper As You Wander

Finding angels,fairies,and the wonders of New York City


deep thoughts by chef josh


Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar


An Un-Authorized Manual

Life Without Bullshit

The raw truth is like sushi for the's healthy for ya!