- A bus, Sir?- Yes, a bus, with constables.A silence larger than anyone heard before rested over the Superintendents room. What was going on? Then, again, over the intercom ...:- Oh, my God.- What was that, Sergeant?- It's Sergeant Ratched, with Constable Johnson ... and ...The Superintendent had suddenly become pale.- And what, Sergeant, he demanded.- And a group of police cadets, Sir.- What? There was acute alarm over the sergeant's voice now. - Female cadets, Sir. Four of them, I think. Six females altogether.The Super looked as if he was about to faint. He held the intercom in both hands.- Full alarm, Sergeant, he shouted into the machine. Do you hear me? All hands on deck. Call neighbouring districts.- Yes, Sir.With that, the Superintendent slammed his fist into the intercom and looked up at Inspector Looney as if he was about to kill him.- Sir?- Your stupid dim-whit, said the Super with a low but threatening voice. You have just sent six female officers to the Corbit’s estate. I grinned to myself as I hid my face behind the absorbent paper. Marsha’s friends – assuming they’d allowed themselves to get messy in the first place, which was unlikely – would have had a total meltdown at smearing their lip gloss and makeup, and then rushed off to the bathroom to check that the sauce hadn’t discolored their expensively whitened teeth.The two kids were WAY too far gone for dry napkins to tackle the job.Ben had smeared it most everywhere, including his clothes, and Abby had just proven that three years old is still young enough to have pieces of slaw in her hair.Mom chuckled and took them off to the kitchen (and plentiful warm water from the faucet), bribing them with the promise of two scoops of icecream once they were cleaned up.Our offer of help was rejected, Mom assuring us she had everything under control.Though Dad did pick up his grandson – carefully holding him against his apron – and carry him to the house.Katelyn took the opportunity of the kids (and our.
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