LITMIR.BIZ

      One

      “Call the cops. Call the cops.”

      Polly Chapman rolled her eyes heavenward as she heard the scratchy-voice command.

      “Hush, Jazzy,” Polly said, then pressed on the brake as she came to a red light The ancient van she was driving shuddered and shook as it idled. “We have no need for an officer of the law.” She glanced quickly around the shabby neighborhood. “Well, not at the moment, anyway. Hold that thought, though.”

      “Call the cops,” Jazzy squawked.

      “Oh, brother,” Polly muttered, starting off again as the light turned green. -

      She shot a glare at the talkative creature in the passenger seat. Jazzy was a brightly colored and definitely opinionated macaw that was traveling in a large, bellshaped cage. His feathers were glossy, vibrant shades of green, orange, red and yellow, and he was perched on a swing in the middle of the cage, as though determined not to miss seeing anything that might be happening.

      At the next red light, Polly shifted in her seat as much as the seat belt would allow, making certain that all the doors of the vehicle were securely locked.

      It had taken over an hour to drive from the northwest section of Tucson to the far south side. Now with each passing block, bleak poverty seemed to shout at her from all directions.

      The buildings were old and many were decorated with sprawling graffiti, the message not always discernable. Some of the windows of stores were boarded, others whitewashed, then suddenly there would appear a store with a faded Open sign hanging on the door.

      Polly frowned in dismay as she saw several people curled up in doorways, either sleeping or simply ignoring the dismal world around them. A few people strolled along the trash-cluttered sidewalk, obviously in no rush to get where they were going.

      She’d heard of south Tucson, of course, but she’d never had any reason to come into this area. It had a reputation of a high crime rate, gangs on the prowl and danger. Now that she was there, she most definitely wished that she wasn’t.

      She glanced quickly at the map drawn on a piece of paper next to her on the seat, then began to look for street signs, many of which were missing from the metal poles.

      With a sigh of relief, Polly found the street she was seeking and turned right, the map indicating that she should go five blocks to reach her destination.

      A cloud settled over the sun, dropping a gray curtain on the area and emphasizing the dreary aura of the residential neighborhood she was now driving through. The houses were small, some exhibiting an attempt at pride of ownership, others seeming to shout the message of a total lack of caring.

      Polly shivered, partly from the cool temperature of the overcast November day, and partly

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