Free Spitting Image by Patrick LeClerc Page A

didn’t judge him very much. They were too young for Pete, but even the women in the history books at the library here were technically too young for me. If I had to draw lines, I did it on the basis of maturity. I didn’t like to chase women who were still trying to find themselves.
    At the moment I wasn’t really interested in chasing any women. What I wanted was for Sarah to call me and tell me come back. The fact that a bunch of eighteen year olds in short shorts and tank tops didn’t distract me from my pining meant that I had it bad.
    “Hello,” said Pete. “What have we here?”
    “A different hot girl who’s too young for you?” I guessed.
    “No. That car. They must pay the faculty pretty well around here.”
    I followed his gesture. A two- seater convertible had pulled up in front of the library. It looked vaguely British, maybe an MG, in that dark racing green. I’m not much of a car guy, but this looked shiny and vintage and expensive.
    I was about to turn away, since cars interested me even less than the co-eds, when I saw a man get out of the driver’s seat, walk around to the other door and open it...
    And Sarah got out.
    And gave the man a big, enthusiastic hug and a kiss.
    I felt the knot in my stomach tighten, turn to lead.
    “Shit,” Pete muttered.
    The man got back in his car and pulled around the drive.
    “Just say the word, man,” said Pete. “I’ll flip on the lights, gun it and he’ll hit us broadside. Wreck his shiny toy and get him cited for Failing to Yield to an Emergency Vehicle. Maybe he’ll have neck pain and we’ll have to board him. Tape his eyebrows.”
    “No,” I said at length. “I need to think before I do anything rash.”
    “I don’t though,” he pointed out. “That’s kinda my thing.”
    I didn’t reply. Didn’t trust myself.
    I didn’t know what to do. I knew I wanted to do something. Something violent. The same helpless, jealous anger that had paralyzed me when I thought she was having an affair with Caruthers had me in its grip. Only this time it was worse because I’d seen...
    Wait.
    What had I seen?
    I’d seen what looked like Sarah with another man. But my opponents could look like anybody. They’d fooled me from a lot closer up than across the quad. And she shouldn’t have been at school today, so if they decided to pull a decoy act, they’d be unlikely to run into the real her and tip their hand. And I’d gone there in response to a call that turned out to be for nothing. It would be easy for them to fake a phone call.
    So did I see something real, or just something they wanted me to see? And why would they want me to see that? Trying to provoke me into punching a professor and getting arrested?
    We eventually cleared up without finding any “man down” and went back into the rotation, keeping watch over the good citizens of our fair city. I kept my thoughts to myself, and after a few gentle pokes, Pete, showing more insight than he generally gets credit for, left me undisturbed.
    “Paramedic 20, P-20. Respond to South Broadway at Andover St. The pharmacy, for the unknown medical.”
    “Twenty. We copy. Pharmacy for whatever.” Pete flipped on the lights and sped up. “How the hell do we have ‘unknown medical’ calls?”
    “Not everybody knows what they’re looking at,” I reasoned.
    “I don’t need them to tell the difference between anaphylaxis and asthma,” he said. “Just give me something. Is the guy clutching his chest and collapsing? Did he cut his hand off? Is he shot? Woman in labor? Or did somebody come to the pharmacy for meds for his headache and now he wants to go to the ER because MassHealth will cover an ambulance ride but not a bottle of Tylenol?”
    “Fair enough,” I said.
    We arrived at the pharmacy shortly.
    “OK, what the fuck’s that all about?” he asked as we pulled into the parking lot. We couldn’t see the entrance very clearly because of parked cars, just the top half of the doors. The