TAMARA GETS ENGAGED PART 4 : MELODY FINDS MORE DUCKS

[esercito sconfitto]

TAMARA GETS ENGAGED PART 4 : MELODY FINDS MORE DUCKS

Harmony slid behind the wheel of the police car while Melody put the bag into the back seat well before joining her in the front of the vehicle. Harmony inserted the key into the ignition switch and prayed. The engine fired on the first turn of the key. They both breathed a sigh of relief. The thought of sitting in the car while they struggled to start it did not fill them with joy. They realised that speed was of the essence: the Precinct was probably wondering why their two officers had not called in and it would not be long before they came to find out what had caused the delay. Harmony spun the wheel and headed towards the industrial quarter.

“Turn right here” indicated Melody “we can use the back streets”.

Harmony turned the car and sped down the side street. Just before she turned left at the bottom of the road she glanced in the rear view mirror to see a patrol car speeding past along the main road, which they had just left, heading in the direction of the jewellers.

“That was close!” said Harmony. “We had better dump the car as soon as we can. Things are getting a bit hot.”

Melody was looking out of the front screen, concentrating on finding a suitable spot to leave the car. She suddenly stiffened and stared at a travel agency which was located on the corner of the next turning on the left. Just beyond the agency was a narrow road which looked promising.

“Turn left here” she ordered, still focusing on the travel agency, in the windows of which were large advertisements for vacations in the world’s glamour spots.

“Turn left again”

Harmony spun the wheel again and drove along a narrow service road which was barely wide enough to accommodate the vehicle. They had struck lucky: it was an ideal spot. The service road divided two tall blocks of buildings with bare, windowless wall: the vehicle could only be seen from the road which they had just left. By manoeuvring the car behind a rubbish container, even that problem was solved.

“Right, let’s get changed, quickly” urged Harmony.

“No, wait: I’ve got an idea” Melody claimed.

Harmony went cold. It was always worrying when Melody had an idea. Melody’s ideas usually heralded danger, closely pursued by disaster. True, her ideas had proved faultless so far today – insofar as one can ignore her idea to play catapult with Sandy’s garter belt – and let’s face it, Melody had found an excellent spot to dump the car and get changed.

“I don’t know what your idea is” retorted Harmony “but time is not on our side. We are probably being hunted right now and I suspect the police will display more than their usual enthusiasm when they realise we have left two of their female officers in their undies.

“Sure, I can see they would be keen to thank us, but just stop and think. This is a golden opportunity to pull another job. The whole precinct will be hunting for the gang which pulled off the jewellery heist, so if somebody pulls off another job while the police are concentrating on hunting the jewellery gang, well - they won’t have the resources to do so, will they?”

Harmony could see the logic in Melody’s argument, but she was really keen to get changed and get away. She sighed. “Well, what’s your idea, then?”

“You saw that travel agents on the corner just now?”

“Yes” Harmony confirmed.

“I know that chain of stores” Melody claimed “they are bound to have a fair amount of cash on the premises and the staff wear a uniform which looks like a flight attendant’s and..”

Harmony interrupted Melody’s flow “Don’t tell me: you want to dress up like a flight attendant and…”

“Well, they will be looking for a couple of female police officers, not flight attendants, so I thought...” Melody cried.

“Use a bit of common sense. We have got to blend in with the crowd, not stick out like a sore thumb. Flight attendants are conspicuous. You may have noticed that men actually tend to stare at them: you might just as well dress up like Santa Claus. Forget it. I am getting changed” Harmony announced.

But Melody was insistent. “Look, we’ve got these uniforms on: the staff wouldn’t suspect anything until it was too late…”

“So we leave a bag, containing I don’t know how much, in the vehicle, while we go and rob a piggy bank” protested Harmony, growing increasingly frustrated at her pig-headed sister.

“Perhaps we should take it with us…” ventured Melody

“I think you should forget all about it, and get changed” concluded Harmony, taking off her belt and unbuttoning her tunic.

“Look, I’ll go in wearing my uniform; you get changed and join me as soon as you can. Bring the bag with you.” With that parting comment, Melody took some cable ties out the bag, put them in her pocket, spun on her heel and made her way back to the main road leaving Harmony thoroughly exasperated and with a deep sense of foreboding.

Melody peered through the window of the travel agency. There appeared to be two female members of staff on duty, one of whom was talking to a female back packer. Melody was pleased to see that her recollection of the employees’ attire was correct. The two ladies were wearing imitation flight attendant uniforms: a very elegant jacket in powder blue over pleated skirts in charcoal grey. Melody opened the door and entered.

The unoccupied assistant looked up at the new arrival. “Is there anything I can do for you officer?” she smiled, keen to assist the forces of law and order.

How obliging. How very kind. Yes, indeed there was. In fact, there were several tasks Officer Melody would like her to perform, the assistant was assured. And as Melody went into details, the assistant’s face lost its smile, changed its colour several times and concluded, having traversed the spectrum, with an impressive blush which is usually reserved for those moments which your mother had warned you to beware of and which periodically feature in the depths of the sleazier tabloids under the headings such as ‘girls left embarrassed by bare-faced robbery.’

“Yes, of course” was all the assistant could gulp, glancing at Melody’s police issue revolver, and began to unfasten her belt.

The backpacker and the other assistant had gone very quiet. They had heard Melody detailing their immediate future; and they were feeling rather uncomfortable. The assistant had already made a mental note to leave a change of underwear at her boyfriend’s apartment in future; clearly there was peril involved turning up to work wearing yesterday’s laundry. Usually it would not have mattered, but today things promised to be different…

Harmony had just finished performing what must have been the fastest disrobing in her life. Only a personal appeal from 007 himself could have produced a swifter stripping. Now down to her lingerie, Harmony stood on one leg to step into her skirt; swapped legs; pulled up the garment; fingered the zip and reached under the hem to adjust her slip. Her blouse and jacket swiftly followed. She bundled the discarded police uniform into the back of the car and grabbed the holdall. She paused. She needed to take a swift decision. Should she set fire to the car or not? It would probably contain evidence which could link the girls to the crime, but a fire would obviously attract attention. On the other hand, if she left it, particularly with the door ajar, it would in all probability soon be vandalised and the evidence contaminated. Harmony decided to leave it.

At the end of the service road, Harmony turned right towards the travel agency. She apprehensively glanced around as unobtrusively as possible. No signs of danger yet. She turned again at the corner of the road and pushed at the door of the agency. It was locked. She peered through the window and saw Melody walking towards the door. She was wearing a charcoal pleated skirt and a police issue shirt. Melody unlocked the door. Harmony quickly entered the agency and Melody replaced the lock.

“What are you doing with that on?” Harmony asked nodding at the skirt.

“What do you reckon? Is it me?” she asked, pirouetting.

“Yes, very nice. Where’s the former occupant?”

“Over here” Melody led Harmony into the back office to introduce her to the former owner of the skirt who was lying on the floor hogtied alongside two similarly unattired victims. “And guess what I’ve found?” Melody mischievously teased. She reached down and lifted the slip of number 2 assistant. “Little duckie panties!” she announced like a circus ringmaster. Yes, the girl was indeed wearing duplicates of those worn by Officer Cuminsky.

“Well, they are obviously fashionable” commented Harmony, sighing. “Perhaps you should get a pair”

“That’s an idea” agreed Melody, reaching down.

“Not those ones!” reprimanded Harmony. “Here’s your suit; now get changed, quickly. Did you get much by the way?”

“Not a bad haul, really. Better than I anticipated” replied Melody stepping out of her new skirt. She turned round and bent over to retrieve her blouse from the holdall. Harmony hadn’t really taken much notice of her sister’s choice of underwear before but her interest was suddenly aroused when she saw the images on Melody’s panties. They comprised a series showing the adventures of a funny dog on the roof of a kennel. The animal clearly entertained Walter Mitty fantasies about fighting a famous hero of the Great War. Across Melody’s beautifully proportioned butt was blazoned the slogan ‘Curse You Red Baron!’

“And this is the girl who mocks little duckie panties!” muttered Harmony to herself.

Now fully dressed, Melody picked up the holdall and placed her latest haul inside. She went back to the rear office and retrieved the other pleated skirt and the pants worn by the back packer and added them to the gathering pile of discarded garments before sweeping them up in her arms.

“Let’s see if we can leave by the back door.” Harmony walked to the back of the office and opened the fire door and looked out. “It’s O.K., we can access the street this way” she said, gesturing for Melody to join her.

The sisters closed the rear door behind them and made their way along a passage way to the street, dropping the plundered clothes into a rubbish skip on the way.

TO BE CONCLUDED