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Roadside --
Part 1
by Cynthia Piromalli
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"Could you show me your drivers license please, miss?"
His tone was self assured, his uniform intimidating- and he knew it. He leaned over her car showing her all the power she didn't doubt he had.
She obeyed promptly, fished her drivers license out of her crammed purse, fingers shaky - this was the third time she'd pulled over for speeding in as many months. She handed the card over to him. Her hands began to sweat, and she hoped he wouldn't notice.
But he had already seen the fear in her eyes, knew from her body language that she'd be submissive, that she wouldn't argue with the law.
Or what she thought was the law.
Taking her card, he looked at the photograph - not a good one, they never were - and compared it with her face, looking up briefly, as every good cop should do. Walking back to his unmarked patrol car, he took out a hand held electronic device and pressed a few buttons. Shaking his head, he dropped the device back into the front passenger seat, took out a pad and wrote on it. Ripping out the slip of paper, he walked back to the car and handed it to her with her license.
"I'm sorry, miss, but I'm going to have to issue you with a fine for this offence."
"Yes, I understand." She put the license back in her purse along with the slip of paper.
"Ah ... no, miss. That's an on the spot payable fine. It needs to be paid immediately."
"Oh," she looked again at the slip of paper, noted the amount and frowned a little. She had the money. He knew that too. He had made a note of checking that while she was fumbling in her purse. No point going on with the task if it couldn't be finished. He made sure his back was straight so that he was at full height and stepped slightly closer to the car, blocking out the sunlight on her face.
She looked up at him suddenly, searching for his eyes behind dark glasses. She wanted to argue with him but, quite frankly, didn't have the guts. She opened her purse again and pulled out the money.
Once she had driven away, the hardened expression on his face dropped and a wide smile stretched to either side. He flicked the money through his fingers, smelt the unpleasant odour of the new issue bills, then tucked them into his back pocket.
Hands on his hips, smiling broadly, he surveyed the road for his next victim.
© Cynthia M. Piromalli 2002
©2002 StoriesByEmail.com
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