The Five Fantastic Detectives

The Tomboy

Detective Harmon wakes from her bed at 5:00 am. All is silent. She steps out of her bed and into an ice-cold shower. She puts on her regular clothes, white shirt, black pants, navy blue tie, dress shoes, and her pride and joy, a brown trench coat. Just like that, she walks over to her kitchen and fries some eggs, along with some coffee, the only breakfast she knows how to make. It's early in the morning before she leaves the house, she grabs her gun and badge. She catches the words, Harmon, on her badge.
"Yeah, that's me", she said, glancing at that badge, "Detective Pamela Harmon". She walks a few blocks from her apartment to a nearby store and grabs a pack of cigarettes. She takes one out and begins to smoke, saving the rest for later. She walks to the subway station alone. She gets weird looks from people, she's used to it. She's different, and according to her, humanity is obsessed with the unusual, that's why we stare. She stands in a crowd of other women. They are all primped up with pretty dresses and happy smiles, meanwhile she remains quiet, still smoking her cigarette. She walks down to the Subway Station. A woman approaches her.
"Excuse me, sir", she says. Pamela turns to her.

"Yes", Pamela smiles.
"Oh, you're a woman. Never mind", the woman walks off, embarrassed. Pamela shrugs it off. She steps on her train, she takes out her badge and gun and holds it in plain sight. Subways in the 70s were filled with crime, she made sure everyone knew she was a cop. The train gets to her stop and she walks out, putting her gun and badge back in her pocket. It's cold, but not snowy. It's late October. She steps into the precinct with pride. All eyes turn to her. She walks to her desk and puts her briefcase on her chair. Pamela walks to the briefing room.
"Good day, gentlemen", Captain Johnson announced. "And women", Pamela coughed. They all sighed.
"Excuse me Harmon?", he asked. This was the case every morning.
"You forgot to mention women, you see there is a woman in this police precinct", she told him.
"Every single morning Harmon", Detective Smith asked.
"Do you have a problem with it, Steve?". She turned to him. God! Steve was the most annoying policeman she's ever worked with.

"Alright, settle down", the captain called, "Smith, there's a robbery for you on Avenue B. Take Harmon with you".
"With all due respect sir", Steve called, "A robbery is a vicious scene for a housewife".
"Well, we're lucky I'm not a housewife then", Pamela grinned.
"You'll take her. End of discussion. Dismissed". The captain stood up and left the brief room. Smith stood up and approached Pamela.
"Listen up, Pamela", he whispered sternly.
"Harmon", she told him.
"What?". He was confused.
"You call all the other detectives by their last names. Call me Harmon". She smiled. She loved seeing him mad.
"You are not going to take my case", he told her.
"I won't. We're working it together", she said smiling. "No. We'll work it together and I'll get the credi-"
"I am truly sorry Steve", she interrupted, "There is a vein on your forehead that looks like it will explode. It's hard to take you seriously. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some paperwork to fill out". She stood up, feeling well. Whenever Pamela got what she deemed 'a victory', she strutted about the place with pride and her head held high. She sat at her desk and did her paperwork. She always thought the paperwork was boring and she would rather be in action, but she needed to do as told. She was the only woman in this precinct if she wanted to keep her job, she needed to be careful. That wouldn't prevent her from acting like herself. The thing about Pamela is that she was like a boy. She dressed like a boy, walked like a boy, talked like a boy, and that was hard enough without being a detective. Pamela was 25 years old. Why wasn't she a housewife? She hated that question. Wife. Housewife. Those words sickened her. She was a detective. She was good at what she did. She was probably the best detective in that precinct, but no one would admit that. She wasn't about to give up her career for some man. She figured if she were to get married, he would have to accept her for who she was.
"Captain, I need you to sign this paperwork", she walked over to his office.
"Harmon, shouldn't you be investigating the robbery", he asked.

"Well, I was waiting for Smith and-". She realized that Smith had gone without her. She grabbed her gun and her badge and sped out of the precinct.
"Just give me a break. Why is it so hard? Can't I get some respect?", she muttered angrily to herself. She turned the corner and lit a cigarette. She calmed down. She entered the shop that was robbed. She ducked under the police tape.
"Sorry ma'am, this area is closed", a police officer said, he held out his hand to block her, but she pushed him away.
"It's me Bob!", she screamed in outrage, "I bet you don't even know my name".
"Sure I do. Uh, Polina", he guessed, shrugging his shoulders.
"It's Pamela, Bob!", she screamed, "Detective Pamela Harmon". She took her badge out and shoved it in his face. He moved out of her way, opening the elevator for her.
"I can open my own elevator", she said, entering angrily. She looked at Steve and pointed her finger at him.
"It's rude to point", he smiled.
"What the hell man!", she screamed, "It's our case. We were supposed to work it together". Crime techs and other officers were at the scene seeing a woman dressed in men's clothing screaming at a detective.
"It's fine Harmon", he laughed, "I just really wanted to see the look on your face. It doesn't matter. I have nothing". She threw out her cigarette and examined the crime scene. The men began to gossip.
"Did you see that?"
"A female detective"
"Times sure are changing"
"Women are working more nowadays"
"Did you see her clothes?"
"Did she get that coat from the men's section?"
"As a matter of fact, I did get it from the men's section", she said, standing in the middle of them, "But I am not here to talk about clothes, I am here to do police work. Speaking of which, I cracked the case".
"What?", Smith exclaimed, "Who are you, Sherlock Holmes?"

"More like Sheila Holmes, but yes", she smiled, "We're looking for a tall white male. He probably lives in this building"
"What makes you say that?", Steve asked.
"If you look at the details, Smith", she smiled, "You can clearly see that the vent is in the wrong position"
"No it's not", Steve screamed, "I don't see anything out of the weird about it"
"Maybe for ordinary men such as yourself, but not me". She grabbed a stepping stool and reached for the ceiling, "for you see, any normal vent would take a long time to open, but by giving this one a gentle shove, it moves, indicating that it has been opened before". She shoved the vent and it fell to the ground making a loud noise.
"Okay, what does that tell you about a white male?", he said.
"While you were there gossiping like six cackling hens, I checked the security feed for the other apartments. All white families. They all remained in the security feed the whole time, except for one man, who disappeared. The suspect's apartment is 205, coincidentally, the floor right above us". She turned to the elevator.

"20 bucks says you're wrong", he told her. She turned and walked towards him.
"I'll take that action", she reached out her hand to shake his. They entered the elevator.
"NYPD, open up", Smith called. A woman answered the door. "Good day officer", she smiled.
"Ma'am, the apartment below you was robbed yesterday, is your husband home?", he asked.
"Yes, let me call him", the woman turned around, "Richard". Pamela suspected the worst. She stepped away from Smith and walked down the hall with her gun in hand. The man got to the door and greeted Smith. He was nervous and sweaty. The man then pushed Smith to the floor and ran down the hall. Pamela stopped him, pushed him to the ground, and pointed her gun at him.
"NYPD, GET DOWN ON THE GROUND! HANDS WHERE WE CAN SEE THEM", she screamed. She got down, handcuffed the guy, and turned to Steve, "Hey Smith, you owe me 20 bucks". She took the guy down to the police car with her determined attitude. She entered the precinct with a big smile, partly because she caught the guy, but also because Steve was slouching behind her, knowing he had lost the bet. She walked in and announced to everyone how she had solved the robbery. They all turned, gave her a very small congratulations and went on with their day. She was used to not being celebrated by the team. She then retaliated against Steve by making him give her twenty dollars in front of the entire precinct.
"You'll see next time Harmon", he said madly. She grinned and went about with the day, filing paperwork for the robber. To her disappointment, Smith interrogated him, but she was fine because she stopped him. She slyly threw him to the ground and handcuffed him. She knew that this precinct needed her, even if they weren't going to accept it.
After the long day, Pamela left the precinct and lit her cigarette. She walked to a nearby bar and drank in silence. All the policemen were friends, she wasn't in that inner circle. She was the only policewoman in the entire precinct. There were more policewomen in the NYPD. It was the 70s. Times were changing. She knew that no partner would ever judge her fairly, which is why she worked alone. Even with a partner, it's best to work alone. Partners don't help, they only slow you down.
"I don't need anyone, just myself. I don't care if I seem too boyish. I am myself, and I like it. Other people don't like it, so I work alone".