mee QUICK FIX

By J. WELLSFORD MILLS

A Couple of Drug Addicts Plus a Supply of Narcotics Plus a Loaded .45 Colt
Automatic—That Was the Combination That Confronted Sergeant George ~
Clark of the British Columbia Police—But Some Fast Work Got Everything

“WAS A bitterly cold morning in late
arch, 1943, as Sergt. Geo. H. Clark, non-
mmissioned officer in charge of the Fort
sorge Subdivision of the British Columbia
lice, closed the front door of his Prince
sorge residence, ready to face the day’s
oblems. As he pulled on his gloves he
st a quick glance at the ominous low-
ng clouds that foretold more snow. His
oughts on the weather, however, were
terrupted by the whirring noise of the
use phone. It was a call from his down-
wn headquarters to tell him that Hood’s
rug Store had been broken into during the
ght and the druggist’s supply of narcotics
saned out. “Til call in and take a look
1 my way over,” replied the Sergeant,
nging up the receiver.

A few minutes later he was listening to
e druggist’s story, and looking at an open
awer that had contained drugs. Nearby
y a chisel used to force it open. A careful
arch for fingerprints drew a blank, but
ere was no doubt that entrance had been
ade via the front door. The door had two
cks, one of the ordinary variety set in
e door and above it a Yale lock attached
the back of the door. The old-fashioned
ck had been worked with a skeleton key
en the door had been pried with a heavy
r forcing off the Yale lock which now
y on the floor. On making an exit, the
ief (or thieves) had locked the door
hind them and when one of the night
lice officers had tried the door, all was
parently well at Hood’s Drug Store.
“There’s something else missing, Ser-
ant,” said the proprietor as the veteran
lice offcer committed a few of the more
partes details to the pages of his note-
ok.

“What's that?” asked Sergt. Clark, busy
ith his writing.

“A .45 calibre automatic with a clip load
shells,” was the quiet answer.

Returning to his office the Sergeant was
eeted with a fresh piece of news. Dr.
vans, a local physician, just returned from
ten-day absence, reported that his office
d been entered by a pass key and a supply
drugs stolen from a locked desk.

The robberies were clearly the work of

HIRTEENTH EDITION

Back in Place Again.

drug addicts and the fact that they possessed
a loaded automatic did not add to Sergt.
Clark’s peace of mind.

Marshalling his forces in answer to the
challenge, the routine of checking hotels
and rooming houses was quickly undertaken
by a number of police officers.

Later in the day came the first break; one
of the officers reported that the proprietor

Sergt. G. H. Clark
—Photo by Corp. J. C. Sweeney.

of a night cafe had noticed a woman cus-
tomer the night before make a trip to the
washroom, and come out just a little more
vivacious in manner. The cafe owner
thought she might have been a drug addict
who had gone in for a quick ““fix”—the ad-
dict’s term for a reviving shot. The woman
was supposed to be staying with a certain
Bud Allard at the Royal Hotel, one of the
lower-priced stopping places. In no time
at all Sergt. Clark was at the Royal Hotel
interviewing Allard, who was alone in his
room.

“Sure, I know the dame,” said Allard in
reply to the police officer’s questioning.
“Goes by the name of Wells—she’s at the
Columbia, room 28.”

In a matter of minutes Sergt. Clark and
Const. J. C. Sweeney were knocking at the
door of room 28 in the Columbia Hotel.
A blowsy looking blonde opened the door,
viewed her visitors from head to foot and
ejaculated: “Bulls, huh?”

Wire Gives HuspAND AWAY

When the police officers told her they
were investigating a theft of drugs she cut
them short with the exclamation, “I told
him he’d get into trouble if he pulled any-
thing around here!” Questioned further
she admitted that her husband, from whom
she was separated, was in Prince George
working as a bull cook at the airport—6
miles out of town. He had a friend with
him and the trio had come from Winnipeg.
She denied having seen her husband but
added, “If he hasn’t already gone, he'll blow
soon if he pulled that job.” She said her
husband went by the name of Wilfred
Shiron.

Advising Mrs. Shiron not to leave town,
the two police officers returned to their
car and were soon speeding toward the air-
port. At the construction office they learned
that Wilfred Shiron was working in the
kitchen. Instead of immediately interview-
ing him, the two officers made for the bunk
house and searched through the suspect’s
belongings, mattress and blankets. A 16-
year-old boy, sweeping out the bunk-house,
viewed the proceedings with some interest
and volunteered the information that Shiron
had a pal who occupied the next bunk.

“These fellows are sure funny,” said the
boy as he watched the police officers explor-
ing the mattress and blankets, “always
scared of catching something.”

“What makes you think that?” said
Sergt. Clark as he turned his attention to
a suitcase lying under the bunk.

“Oh, I dunno,” said the flunkey, “they’re
always pushing some medicine into their
arm with a syringe. They say it prevents
them catching “flu.”

Sergt. Clark’s suspicions were confirmed.

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