My first ever...

Sword. Yes, a sword. A long, shiny, metal sword.

Dave had just finished putting my suspect into the car. Cuffed, searched, and stuffed. I wandered over to the suspects truck to take a peek inside (while trying not to lean against the puke on the running board. That's what I call a clue).

Imagine my surprise when I opened the back door. The first thing my eyes hit on was the large handle of a sword sticking out from under the back seat. My eyes stretched to dinner plate size. "Dave! Dave!" I hissed. I think... no, I won't try to hide it, I swore. Like a sailor, though I will spare you here. "He's got a sword! A sword!"

Dave came over, as calm as ever, and pulled the sword out from under the seat. It was at least three feet long. Well over the 2.5 inch blades that are allowed inside my parcel of federal jurisdiction. And it wasn't a little sissy fencing sword. In my excited state I thought, "Claymore! It's a dang claymore!" But it really wasn't big enough for that. No kilted Scottish clansman would've needed two hands to wield it. It was only a broadsword. Dave pointed out that it had no edge and apparently it wasn't just any sword, it was Excalibur. King Arthur's sword, if I'm not mistaken. What it was doing under the seat of the guy with the alligator shoes and three piece pimp suit, I don't think I'll ever know. But Dave's calm voice of reason assured me that it wasn't a weapon... it was a collector's sword. Not capable of slicing and dicing, just perhaps poking.

The suspect assured us later that he's no Highlander, we won't find any headless corpses lying around. Apparently he'd recently taken it out of his storage unit or some such nonsense. Next time I ask someone if they have any weapons in the car, I should be more specific. "Do you have any knives, guns, axes, explosives, ... swords." You never know what you're going to find.