Thank you: Boy, did I have a lot of help with this one. I would be at it all night if I thanked everyone, but I would be remise without thanking Diva, the one constant in my writing. She's kicks ass with a comma and never too shy to say "what the hell does that mean?" I have to thank one of the best bards around, Barb, who came in with some much-needed encouragement for a very tired bard. And last but not least, my friend Mecheal, who was with me from the very beginning and served as my sounding board and first beta. Without her, this story would never have been finished. They better like it woman or I'm coming after you.
Positive and constructive feedback: I would love to hear from you, but I realize that I'm the writer, so I don't expect a long doctoral thesis on the yin and yang effect of my characterizations during the first, second and third acts of this story. Unless you want to, that is. A simple: "I liked this one" or "it sucked" is way better than nothing. GabGold@aol.com
Wall of Silence
By
Gabrielle Goldsby
(AKA GabGold)
You ever wonder if, before you die, you get an early warning sign? Sort of a smoke all you want, drink tons of alcohol, fuck up a storm, because it doesn't matter anymore, free pass to hell?
Well, let me be the first to tell you, death is never that polite.
By the way, my name is Foster Everett. A rather pretentious name for a five-foot four chick from New York City, but it's the one I was given so I don't complain. And no, before you get freaked out, I'm not dead. At least not anymore, but that's a long story so lets start from the beginning.
The day I started to lose the life that I had spent years building began just like the rest. Hell, it was actually kind of pretty as days go in the City of Angels. My commemorative 1969 New York Mets alarm clock went off at six o'clock A.M. as usual. And as was my habit, I sent the fucker sailing across the room until it crashed against the wall and hit the hardwood floor with a hollow clatter....
"Sorry, Mrs. K.," I grumbled absently. My downstairs neighbor, Mrs. Krychowski, took great pride in the fact that she had lived in the same building for twenty-two years. Half of that time was spent with her husband, Norbertresthissoul. I'm not shitting you, that's his name, Norbertresthissoul. I never once heard the woman say Norbert with out resthissoul following right behind it like it was all one word. Anyway, apparently Norbertresthissoul died ten years ago and she got so lonely that her daughter, who lives in Florida, came out and bought her a dog. The dog is some type of purebred thing that looks like a deformed chicken. Everyone in the building adores it. Everyone that is, but me. It has occurred to me to ask her why her daughter didn't take her back to Florida instead of buying her a companion, but hell; it's none of my business.
I rolled off my bed and crawled on all fours until I reached my sparsely decorated kitchen. "Mmmm coffee."
I love coffee; a friend of mine, Stacy, says that Starbucks is the devil's spawn. I told her I would gladly nosedive into the devil's ass for a decent mocha.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I grumbled as the phone started ringing its annoying little half-hearted bleat. I told myself for the fiftieth time that I needed to get myself a new phone. The one I owned hasn't worked well since I mistook it for the alarm clock one morning.
"Everett," I growled into the phone as I sipped from my chipped Michael Jordan cup and stared out my window at the street below. I quit smoking cigarettes years ago but I still managed to have a slight morning cough and a husk that seemed to dissipate with the early morning smog.
"Hey, it's Smitty. You better get your ass in gear, you're late again."
"Yeah, I'll be...." I dropped the phone back into its cradle as a slight movement out of the corner of my eye caused me to instinctively reach for my gun.
"Son of a...." My gun was hanging on a chair across the room, one of only three pieces of furniture that I had in my apartment.
I slid to the floor and crawled on my hands and knees over to the corner where I had seen the flash of movement. I dove, cursing up a storm and cackling with glee. I hated to lose and this little bastard had managed to elude me for the past two weeks.
"Gotcha, you little fuck!" I crowed holding up my prey victoriously.
The tiny white mouse simply stared at me with beady red eyes as if I were the one that had been up at all hours of the night munching on his last box of Crackerjacks.
"Don't look at me like that. I have every right to send you to mouse heaven." My annoying phone began ringing once more. I snatched it up, careful not to let go of my captive.
"All right damn it, I'll be there in few." Not waiting for Smitty to launch into his familiar tirade, I slammed the phone down and looked at my little uninvited guest in earnest.
"So, what the hell am I supposed to do with you anyhow?"
I didn't have time to wait for his answer, so I grabbed the shoebox that I had neglected to toss when I had bought my last pair of Docs last year and stuck him inside. As soon as I got the chance, I planned on letting him go in some field or something. But this little guy was not going to be munching on my shit at three in the morning and not expect to get the boot.
I quickly slipped on my baggy black cargo pants and a ribbed t-shirt and half-heartedly brushed my teeth.
"I need a haircut," I grumbled to myself as I impatiently put my long red hair into its customary ponytail and took a look at myself in the mirror. I winced at my reflection. I hadn't been sleeping well, the dark circles under my hazel eyes looked more pronounced than usual. I was one of the millions of people that suffered from nightmares or so the police psychologists told me. I wouldn't know though; I could never remember what they were about when I woke up the next morning. Whatever they were, they must have been really bad because I don't think I had a good night's sleep since joining the force. Leaning close to the mirror, I looked into the tired, hazel eyes of my reflection. I look like hell, I thought, and then to belie the fact that I was feeling much older then my twenty-nine years I whispered ominously. "That's because I see dead people!"
I snickered at my own childishness, scooped up my roommate, and left my apartment, fastidiously ignoring the weak ringing of my phone as I went.
* * *
You ever walk into a place where everybody is either coming or going but nobody seems to really be getting anywhere in particular? That's about how the division is, a whole lot of chaos, all the time. The hustle and bustle seemed to soothe me. Hell, occasionally I was able to put my feet up on my desk and actually catch a few hours of shut-eye. I've been a part of that kind of life for as long as I can remember. My dad retired from the New York Police Department. My grandfather was a fireman, but his father was a cop too. There is a long line of dumb-ass civil servants in my family.
In the three years that I worked in this division, I'd seen just about everything. This particular day, my partner Joseph Smith, or Smitty as he liked to be called, was waiting for me, shaking his head back and forth, with that "what am I going to do with you" look on his pleasant but unremarkable face.
"You know, if I wasn't in love with you, I would have to kick your ass." He said as I walked into the office that we shared with six other detectives. Smitty was one of those guys that most guys loved and most girls ended up marrying. Tall dark and vaguely handsome in that, nothing ugly about sort of way.
"Well, if I wasn't in love with your wife I might have to kick your ass!" I said laughingly as I handed over the shoebox. "Don't look in there." I knew that as curious as he was, it would only be a few minutes before he had a look in the box. He hated mice, so it would serve him right for being nosey.
"I almost forgot, give this check to Monica. Tell her...I'll try to make it next time." Smitty folded the check and put it in his shirt pocket. He knew I wouldn't come the next time or the time after that. How he could willingly look at the young untainted faces of dead children, children we had failed to protect was beyond me.
"You should try to come to the funerals sometime Foster, it's really beautiful."
I nodded and picked up a piece of paper from my desk pretending to study it. How could a child's funeral ever be beautiful I wanted to ask. "The newspaper said over a hundred fifty people came last time."
"Yeah it was a big one. We got a lot of donations. Monica says that she will be able to add a few more plots and maybe get some clothes for the ones that don't need closed caskets."
I nodded again and turned away from Smitty. God how could he talk about it like that? Every year in Los Angeles County alone there are hundreds of bodies that are discarded like only so much refuse. About two hundred of them are never identified, ten to fifteen of those are children and the numbers seem to keep rising every year.
For the last four years Monica, Smitty's wife, had championed those Johnnie and Janie Does. She had coerced, shamed and threatened every cop and politician in the Los Angeles area for donations. She and her father had appeared on numerous televisions shows and had gotten donations from as far away as China. Still there was never enough money to keep some of them from being buried in mass graves in east LA. Every couple of months I write a check and tell myself that as long as I spend my life chasing the bastards who leave them to die then its okay that I don't go to the funerals. And that just maybe what I'm doing will keep one of them from ending up in Monica's cemetery of the unwanted.
"Capt. is looking for you."
"Damn, what does she want?" I felt my stomach turn queasy.
"Probably wants to discuss your tardiness again." Smitty laughed. "You know you two go at it like cats and dogs man if I didn't know better...."
"Uh Smitty you're barking up the wrong tree with that one. I looked around to make sure no one was listening. "I don't even know why she got into law enforcement do you see those suits she wears?"
"Yeah she says pretty much the same thing about how you dress." Smitty looked down at my pants and t-shirt. I refuse to wear suits. They are just too damn confining. If I wore a suit where would I keep my gun? Not to mention the illegal key picks, Swiss army knife, the obligatory high calorie snack and the other nifty objects that I carried regularly in the pockets of my pants. Smitty was right though; the Captain seemed to have a woody for me. And I don't mean that in a good way. We always seemed to circle each other like two caged lions, just waiting for the chance to piss on each other.
Sighing, I pushed several loose tendrils of hair out of my face and placed my black bomber jacket on the back of my chair before knocking softly on her door. I almost hoped she wouldn't hear me, but of course she instantly barked, "Come in." I grimaced and walked in, shutting the door behind me.
She didn't bother to look up as she read some document in front of her while taping a pen on her desk. It was one of many annoying things that I hated about this woman. It was unfortunate that she was such a bitch because she really was quite good looking. I took the time to study her critically as she patently ignored me. She had long dark hair but usually wore it pulled back in a severe bun. The body beneath that Armani suit promised not to disappoint. She probably did aerobics or some other such shit. Sounds good doesn't it? But this woman dripped venom from every pore. Now I don't want you to think that I was checking her out because I wasn't. I'm just stating the facts as I saw them.
Hell, if I had thought I was even remotely interested in this witch, I would have gone home and used that damn dildo that Stacy bought me as a gag. At least she said, it was a gag. What it was was a waste of a perfectly good dildo. Not that it is common knowledge or anything, but my libido bailed on me around about the time that I left my teens. I spent much of my early twenties forcing myself into relationships that I never found fulfilling. After a while even the most understanding of persons would get tired of one-sided sex. So it was either give up or find women who were selfish enough to let me pleasure them without reciprocation. It wasn't as hard to find them as you might think; at least it was never hard for me. Many were all to happy to just allow me to take them where they wanted to go and then turn over and fall asleep. The last such fling, well one nighter really, was about two years ago.
"Everett, how come you're always the last one in every morning?" she asked as she continued to glare down at her mound of papers.
I straightened, hoping to steal a look at the papers she had been so intent on finishing. I already had an idea what this was about but I wasn't volunteering any information. "Uh well, Capt., you know I don't have a car."
"That's because you crashed the last two that you had."
"Uh yeah, well I have to walk to work."
"You only live a few minutes from here." She reminded me still not looking up from her desk.
Bitch, I thought as I cleared my throat. "Captain, I was here pretty late working with Smitty on that snuff film case. So I kind of overslept."
"And what's the status on that? You two have had that for a month and from the looks of things you haven't made any headway."
"Well, we should be bringing in some suspects in the next day or two, Captain. We just want to make sure the DA doesn't have a reason to let them go."
She nodded. The only person the Captain hated more than me was the District Attorney. I patted myself on the back for coming up with that on the spur of the moment.
"All right, just keep me posted. That's not why I brought you in here anyway. I have another complaint against you. This makes the third one in as many months."
I sat quietly, not denying the allegations as she read them off. I won't bore you with the gory details, but suffice it to say it was all true and she'd probably missed a few. She stopped reading and we sort of looked at each other before she leaned back in her chair and started that infernal tapping.
"Have you been to the psychologist like you were supposed to?"
"Yeah, I haven't missed any appointments, but I don't need a psychologist, Captain. I'm fine. You know how things are out there..." I trailed off because she didn't really know and I wasn't about to try to convince her to see things my way. So I shifted in my seat and tried in vain to look for some common ground with the woman.
"You are going to lose your temper one too many times, Everett, and I'm not going to be able to help you."
When had she ever helped me, anyway?
"Look, Captain, I don't know what it is, but perp's think they can test me. Probably because of my size and because I'm a woman. If I don't take them down a few pegs, they'll think they can run all over me."
"Hmm, says here, you kicked this last one so hard in the balls that he's still in the hospital. We'll be lucky if we don't get a lawsuit."
"Captain, look I had to keep the guy from advancing, it was self-preservation. Besides IA cleared me of this." I didn't mention that internal review had not only cleared me but determined that if I hadn't reacted the way I had it could have resulted in serious injury to me or my partner. That had left the captain steaming for days.
"Did you have to kick him twice? Wasn't once enough?"
"Well yeah, he didn't go down the first time. Look Capt., Smitty was there, ask him. This guy was a big motherfucker. I had to do something. I thought it was better than drawing my gun after that last idiot tried to sue the department."
"You shot him in the toe!"
"Well yeah, he was trying to run away and he had a gun," I reasoned.
"How in the hell do you shoot someone in the toe who's trying to run away?" She was clenching her jaw and I could tell that she was not going to see things my way, so I decided to lay it all on the line.
"Um, I'm a good shot?"
"Everett, get out of my office!"
"Yes ma'am." I got to my feet and hurriedly reached for the door, a triumphant grin already plastered across my face. That had been fairly painless as visits with the Captain go.
"Oh and Everett, get me something on who's distributing that trash on my streets by Friday or your ass is working parade duty."
"All right, Captain." I bit down hard on my bottom lip to keep from sneering at the spiteful bitch as I exited the office. Her streets huh? Yeah right.
"Parade duty my ass!" I picked up a small trashcan that sat next to my desk and contemplated sending it flying across the room. Throwing things always made me feel better. I looked up just in time to see Smitty, who hadn't noticed me returning to my desk, lift the lid to the shoebox with the end of his pencil. I sat the trashcan down quietly and settled back in my chair to enjoy the show. This would be a better stress relief then throwing the trashcan, anyway. The shriek that emitted from Smitty's mouth was worthy of the loud applause that I received when I retrieved my box from his desk. I shook my head at him as I dropped back into my chair. "I told you not to look."
"Goddamn it Foster, you did that shit on purpose!" He accused as he stood in the middle of the office and glared at the shoebox as if it were going to attack him.
I rolled my eyes. "Who knew you were such a nosey fuck?" I peaked into my box to make sure the little guy was okay. After reassuring myself that he was not overly traumatized, I fixed Smitty with my sternest glare.
"You know I hate those things. Why did you give it to me in the first place?" He whined.
I curled my lip in mock disgust at my 6'3 partner who was still cowering in the center of the room. "Because I thought you were the one person I could trust. I'm going to let him go as soon as I find a good place."
"Well make sure you let him go far away from here."
"No shit, Smitty." I was still pissed off at the Captain for threatening me with the rookie parade detail. This is going to be the Monday from hell, I thought, but what I said was, "I need some good news."
"Well, I just may have some." Smitty sat down at his desk with a satisfied smirk.
"Spill it," I said, a smile already threatening to break forth. From the glint in Smitty's eye, I could tell that he thought he had already found a good lead. Or at least something that looked like a good lead. As of the night before, we had nothing.
"While you were in there gossiping with Captain Simmons, I got you some coffee." He pointed to the steaming cup sitting on my desk.
I smiled gratefully and closed my eyes as I drank the vending machine concoction. I didn't feel quite human unless I had a good deal of caffeine in my body.
Smitty grinned. He hadn't been my partner for three years without learning a thing or two about me. The most important, is that I will love you forever if you bring me coffee. Hey what can I say I'm a cheap date.
"So what's up?"
"Well when I was at the coffee machine I ran into Fuller. He said that he and Jackson brought in Pistol Pete last night."
"Oh yeah, what for?" I took another sip from my cup.
"Same ol', flashing some rich chick in front of Mavericks."
Mavericks is an expensive restaurant over on ninth. Most people have to book reservations at least two weeks in advance to get in and in general the only people that go there are the rich and semi famous.
Pistol Pete was so named because he loved to pull out his "six-shooter", as he called it, and fire off a few rounds at unsuspecting targets. Generally though, he was harmless, and somewhat of a division mascot. I once had the misfortune of seeing his six-shooter when he was showing it off through the bars of his jail cell. Personally, I think it's more like a four shooter, but who am I to judge.
"So what, they put him in detox?"
"Yeah, but that's not the interesting part, Old' Pete had purchased himself a few boxes of wine."
"Oh yeah?" I asked raising my eyebrow, as I feigned interest.
"Yeah, seems he made a few bucks from the video store owner over on Hartford in exchange for a couple of hours work."
My antenna went up at the mention of videos but I had to play Smitty's game or he would be thoroughly disappointed.
"So?" I started looking through the piles of paperwork on my desk as Smitty continued. When Smitty thought he had something good he could not be rushed. He was also one of those people that had a story for everything and about everyone and he would tell you over and over again if you let him.
"Well, this guy over on Hartford paid Pete to move some boxes into his video store. Pete said while the guy wasn't looking, he took a look in the boxes."
"Let me guess. There were videos in there, right?" I asked sarcastically.
"Yeah right but the thing is, our friend Pete in his inebriated state, thought that Jackson and Fuller had arrested him for theft. Seems he filched some of movies so that he could sell them for a few bucks. Only when he got back to his hotel and took a look at them, there was some pretty wild stuff on the tapes. Said he thinks he tossed them in the trash but my guess is if we go over to the motel where he stayed last, we'll find them still there."
I put my empty cup down with a thud. "Well shit, what are we waiting for?"
"I figured you would say that," Smitty grinned. "Hey!" I snatched the keys out of his hand and raced out of the division.
"I'm driving. You drive like an old lady!" I yelled back at him.
Smitty, of course, drove. I was not supposed to drive any division vehicles for the next three months. Captain's orders. As I told you, she has a woody for me big time.
Pete's winter home turned out to be a seedy motel about eight blocks from the division. The people that lived there full-time, made their living by waiting outside of the 7-Eleven on Guerra until some farmer came along to pick them up. They usually got paid next to nothing for backbreaking work and came home to a small cramped room for a few hours of sleep only to start all over again the next day.
Despite the gaudy neon sign in the window promising that the office was open 24 hours, Smitty and I had to wait two and a half hours for an oily looking guy with Bermuda shorts, a bowling shirt and van shoes to come walking casually up to unlock the door.
Generally speaking, you need a warrant to enter someone's hotel room. However, the pock-faced man behind the counter was so intent on returning to his hand held video game, that he barely looked up when we flashed him our badges. He handed us Pete's keycard without a word and went back to his videogame.
"Great security," Smitty said sarcastically as we walked across the parking lot.
"Yup."
Smitty slid the key card into the lock and we were immediately assaulted by the rank odor of cigarette smoke and that vague acrid odor left by cheap cleaning supplies. At least they tried to clean, I told myself as I winced with distaste.
I stepped into the small room and looked around ignoring the feeling of unclean that always came over me when I was in such places. Never mind the fact that I had two weeks worth of dirty clothes on my apartment floor at that very moment. There is a huge difference between being messy and just plain nasty. You're going to have to trust me on this because unless you have been in one of these cheap run down rooms, you have no idea what I'm talking about. Smitty closed the door and we both took practiced looks around the small area.
"I'll check the bathroom. You check here," I said. My lips thinned as the idea of letting the stale dirty air into my mouth almost caused a gag reflex. I snapped on a pair of gloves and Smitty did the same.
"Um Hmmm." Smitty was careful to keep his lips firmly shut. Seemed I wasn't the only one reluctant to open my mouth in there.
I was tempted to snicker at the no smoking sign on the bathroom door as I entered. The place looked like a bar toilet. Cigarette marks and permanent rust stains abound. I checked behind the door, the trashcan, the commode lid, under the sink, and in the shower stall. I exited the tight space as quickly as I could.
"Anything?" Smitty asked from his position on the floor.
"Nah, not yet."
Smitty carefully lifted one of the comforters and peeked beneath one of the beds. "Think we got something. Hand me that broom handle I saw in the window would ya?"
I pushed the curtain back and removed the piece of broom handle from the window and handed it to Smitty. I heard what sounded like crinkling paper as Smitty pushed a brown bag from under the bed.
"Bingo." We said simultaneously.
I opened the bag, carefully removing three videotapes, all of which were in plain black cases with no identifying marks. "Shall we take a look?" I asked.
"Go for it." I opened one of the tapes and slipped it in the cheap looking 13-inch TV VCR combo that each of the "upgraded rooms" now sported.
We didn't have long to wait before our senses were assaulted by the voices of a man and what looked to be a very young male of Asian decent. I fought down the bile that rose and threatened to escape my throat as the assault played out on the screen up close and personal. And then as we watched, a gun was grabbed from somewhere off camera, there was a loud bang and the tape ended. The thing is that at no point did the kid stop crying and at no point did the sick bastard that was assaulting him say a word. Smitty stuck the last two tapes in and we watched just enough to ensure ourselves that they contained the same thing. An assault on a minor followed by a murder. Up until this point my only thought had been to get the fucker making these films. He was a murder of the worst kind. Now I wondered what kind of people actually bought them.
"We got the bastard! Lets get the hell out of here before I get sick." Smitty walked out of the room the videos gripped tightly in his hand. I closed the door behind me and had to jog to catch up with him.
"You all right?" I asked as he started the engine and pulled out of the lot as if we could somehow escape what we had just seen.
"Yeah. You?"
"No."
"Me either."
"How could ...why would a grown man get pleasure from that? The fear in that boy's eyes..." I turned and looked out the window blinking rapidly.
"Don't try to rationalize it Foster. These people are sick...you will never be able to understand it. Just...Just find them and put them away."
"I know Smitty, I tell myself that but... Sometimes I wondered if it's worth it you know? Our job is to make it so that law-abiding citizens can sleep comfortably at night, but who is going to make sure that we can?"
"Foster look...I've been here before. Situations like this...you just gotta...you just gotta learn to put that kind of shit out of your head and do what needs to be done."
"But what if it isn't just this one guy...I mean who in the fuck is buying this kind of shit? Sure we take this asshole off the street. There will be another one that will take up where he left off...as long as there's a profit."
We reached the division in relative silence. Watching those tapes had a sobering affect on both of us. Up until about two weeks ago all we had were two videos sitting in a cold case file. The case had jumped from vice, to homicide, then back again as different people tried to figure out if this was your average run of the mill snuff film or if it was real. And if it was, not only had a child been molested and murdered, but the whole thing had been taped and sold. The file leapt to the top of our stack when copies of two new videos started turning up on the street. They had the same MO, same backgrounds and the same twisted ending.
I went down to talk to Pistol Pete while Smitty took care of getting the warrant as well as filling the Captain in on what we had found. Pete wasn't able to give me any more info other than the fact that the video store owner seemed to be a decent enough guy.
"They always seem to be decent enough guys Pete," I told him as I left. I walked back to my desk thinking that Pete was right. It was getting hard to tell the good guys from the bad these days. I was so deep in thought that Smitty was nearly on top of me before I realized that he was there.
"We got it!" Smitty crowed as he waved the warrant in my face.
"That was fast."
"The Captain got it, seems she was in a sorority with Judge O'Malley's wife and was able to get him to send this over ASAP. The only problem is since we're so short staffed, we only have one patrol to back us up."
I shrugged. "No matter. This should be pretty routine."
* * *
We pulled into the back parking lot of Reel Family Video's at around 7:00 pm. It was overcast and therefore almost dark outside. There were hardly any other cars in the lot. This guy didn't seem to do much to keep up his legitimate front. It made me think that we were definitely dealing with an amateur that had somehow avoided detection by law enforcement. Up until now that is.
I motioned to Smitty that I would go in first and he should cover me. The uniforms would cover the rear of the building and provide back up if needed. I slid along the wall, ignoring the smell of urine, and peered inside the glass door. There was no one at the front desk, so I pulled out my trusty lock picks and unlocked the door in seconds. Smitty shook his head at me but I rolled my eyes. It wouldn't be the first time a report would say that a door was open when it hadn't been. I eased the door open listening for any chimes that would alert the perp to my presence.
I effortlessly entered the store with Smitty close behind me and squatted behind the counter. Shelves of G rated videos filled every available wall space in the small front area. The counter was the only thing that separated the "family viewing section" from the triple X section as denoted by the three red X's over the entryway. I gestured to him that I would try to go around and sneak through the entryway on the other side of the counter. He gave me a thumbs up indicating that he understood and would have my back. I held up my hand and counted down silently before sneaking into the dimly lit room, my gun raised.
The room was decorated garishly in reds and pinks. One end had what was probably the entrance that the guy used to get the kids in undetected. It was covered with purple beads and I couldn't tell if there was a room behind it or just a door. I would need to make sure that there was only one person in this place before I made my move. I squinted into the darkness and as my eyes began to adjust I noticed a heart-shaped bed surrounded by all types of lighting and camera equipment. In the center of the bed was chained a small child. His arms were shackled by chains so large that the mere weight of them seemed to be enough to keep him in place. My first reaction was to rush to the kid, but I was certain that whoever was running this was somewhere close and I didn't want to risk the life of the kid. So I squatted down and tried to pinpoint my perp's location.
I had to tune out the slow whining coming from the little boy. It was obvious that he had been crying for a very long time as his sobs were hoarse and tired. Just a little bit longer sweetheart let me get a bead on this fuck and I'm going to get you out of here. I had no sooner finished the thought than the sound of a door slamming alerted me to my perp's location. "Didn't I tell you to shut the fuck up?" The sound of beads crashing against the wall flooded my body with adrenaline.
A blond haired Caucasian male wearing nothing but boxer shorts came crashing through the beads and towards the already highly agitated boy. I shot forward just as he reached the bed and tackled the sick fuck, managing to land one solid blow to the chin before he collapsed to the floor taking me with him.
The kid screamed as the perp and I struggled on the floor. Smitty yelled twice but was probably unable to tell me from the perp at that point. I landed two more blows to the guy's chin and temple before I was able to push him off me with help from Smitty.
"We got him guys. Situation is under control," I yelled as the two uniforms burst through the beads guns raised causing the little boy to scream even more. "You guys, we got him. Can one of you secure the area and the other call child welfare?" I struggled to my feet and looked at Smitty who had already cuffed the perp and was pulling him to his feet. "Smitty?"
"Yeah?"
"Get it out of my face, please."
"You heard her."
Smitty pushed the guy out of the room as I carefully approached the bed. The boy looked at me so fearfully that I stopped and held up my hands. "See nothing to hurt you here." I held out the chain that my badge hangs on. "I'm a police detective. Do you know what that is?" The child continued to sob but nodded that he understood.
"I'm not going to let anyone hurt you, again."
He nodded, his blue eyes watching my every move as I tried to look around for the keys that would open the small set of handcuffs that bound his wrists. I saw them on a dresser along with a set of pliers and a vicious looking knife and ropes. I grabbed the keys off the dresser and approached the bed.
"Would it be okay if I unlock those so that you can stand up?"
The kid looked like he was about to start crying again so I tried to talk quietly to him as I approached. "What's your name?
"Jason," He answered. His crying momentarily stalling as I gave him something he could think about.
"Where are you from, Jason?"
"El-segun-doo." He hiccupped as he said it but he seemed pretty confident.
"El Segundo. Okay, that's real good, Jason. Do you know your mommy's name?" The boy nodded. "How about her phone number do you know that?
"I think so."
"That's real good. How would you like to go call your mommy? How would that be?"
I almost cried as the boy's eyes lit up. "Let's get you up from here and we'll see what we can do about that." Just as I freed Jason from his restraints and I helped him to his feet, a female uniform entered the room.
"Do you know where your clothes are, Jason?"
He shook his head and looked like he was about to cry again so I wrapped a sheet around him and gestured to the female cop.
"Grady is it?" she nodded and looked away blinking back tears.
"Hold it together," I told her but I might as well have been talking to myself. "Is there a phone back there?"
"Yeah, I think so."
"Okay, take him to the back and let him try to call his mom while we wait for social services."
She nodded and held her hand out for Jason, which, after a tentative look at me he took and gingerly started walking towards the phone. I turned away from the kid's small back, but not before I saw the bite marks.
Rage flooded through me like a future junkie's first dose of heroin. I fed on it because I needed to have an excuse for letting loose on this waste of oxygen. I walked into the front of the video store where the perp was sitting on a stool with his head down, his face covered in tears. Smitty stood with his back to the guy; a familiar stance, one I had seen him take on more then one occasion. It was a dare; a chance for the slime ball to try something, anything, so that Smitty could take him down. But people that attacked children were spineless bastards and I knew that this one would not give neither Smitty nor I the satisfaction of blowing his brains out.
I stared at the guy in his pristine white boxer shorts and dress socks and felt an undeniable hatred well up within me. The scent of his cologne was strangely heavy in the air as if he had just paused to spritz some on while I was in the other room. Hugo Boss for men, I thought inanely. At that very moment he looked at me and uttered two words that broke the last vestiges of restraint that I had on my rage.
"I'm cold." He said.
And I was on him before his mouth had closed.
I'm sure he never saw it coming. I landed four hard punches to his face, bloodying his nose and lips before Smitty had even turned around. Smitty rushed me and grabbed me around my forearms but not before I had the perp's head in both of my hands and slammed it into my knee...twice.
"Everett, Everett, you got him, love, you got him." Smitty dragged me into the back room as I sobbed harshly, the rage still burning in my chest as I struggled to get loose. I have never in my life wanted to hurt someone like I wanted to hurt this guy.
"Listen to me, Everett, we can make sure that he gets stuck under the jail, we'll make sure that he gets some of what he's been dishing out. He won't leave there alive, I'll make sure of it. You believe me don't you?"
I nodded and without looking back I stumbled out of the room. Grady had sat Jason in the front seat of the patrol car to wait for child protective services. I watched as she handed the kid her badge and put her hands up as if he was arresting her. A small smile went across his face only to peter off as if it had never been there. She said something else to him and the smile reappeared. She's good with kids. I wonder if she has any. If she does she must be sick with fear right now. I wondered what kind of life Jason from El Segundo was going to have now thanks to that bastard inside. I clenched and unclenched my aching hands and then put them both under my armpits. Bile rose in my throat and I spat a couple of times. Finally I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the building. I was tired, so damn tired of seeing shit like this.
I opened my eyes to see an approaching nondescript vehicle. I sighed and pushed myself from the wall and started to walk over. A noise from inside the store caused me to hesitate.
"Smitty you okay in there?" I called out.
"Huh? Yeah."
Something in his voice caused me to pause. I shook my head. The perp was still handcuffed when I had left, besides he was in no shape to give Smitty trouble. If I had to look at him again I didn't know what I would do to him. I started to walk towards the worker who was now squatting in front of the open car door with her back to me talking to Jason.
"Everett, I need to speak to you." Smitty called urgently.
I didn't bother to turn around. I didn't need a lecture. I was sure I'd be getting one soon enough from the Captain. "Yeah, Smitty but can it wait until...."
"No, we got a problem."
"What do you mean? He didn't fucking get away did he, Smitty?" I was prepared to storm through the building to go drag his sick ass back.
Smitty grabbed my shoulders and stopped me. "Foster...listen to me damn it. He's dead!"
"What the fuck are you..." I lowered my voice on reflex. "Smitty, what do you mean he's dead?"
"I mean he's dead!" Smitty's voice sounded urgent as he looked around the parking lot to make sure we weren't in earshot of anyone. Beads of sweat glistened on his flushed forehead and cheeks like tears. Other than when we had to chase down a perp I had never seen Smitty break a sweat over anything.
"No he ...he can't be!" I tried to rush into the building but Smitty stopped me.
"Would you fucking just look at yourself? Your fists are bruised and you look fucking shell shocked."
I looked down at myself. Smitty was right. I looked like I had been the loser in a barroom brawl. Smitty grabbed me by the shoulders and turned us around so that anyone looking would only see his back.
"Now, listen to me, Foster. I want you to go home."
"What? But I have to stay, and give...give my statement," I said numbly.
"No!" Smitty pulled me into the video store and out of view of the uniforms now talking quietly near their car. "I want you to go home and get cleaned up. I'll make some excuse about you not feeling good. I can make this go away. Nobody cares about a child murderer. You're a good detective. He isn't worth spending the rest of your life in a jail cell. You were never here do you hear me?"
I nodded dully as the ramifications of what I had done washed over me. My career... my life was over. The Captain's words echoed in my head. "You are going to lose your temper one too many times, Everett, and I'm not going to be able to help you."
See what I mean? My life was over and I had no warning whatsoever.
I walked home skirting the accusatory brilliance of the streetlights like a seasoned criminal. Smitty had said I shouldn't call a cab, which was fine by me. I needed time to think. How could things go so wrong so fast?
I got home and pulled off my bloody pants and t-shirt and thought about leaving them on the floor. The bloody handprint on one of my shirtsleeves was enough to convince me that I needed to destroy the clothes quickly. I'd always wondered why people who committed crimes didn't remove the evidence immediately. Now I had my answer. It was simply too damn hard. All I wanted to do was sleep, something I had never been successful at.
The simple act of showering and putting on sweats was the hardest thing that I had ever had to do, but I did it. I approached the bloody clothes as if I were approaching a crack house, with extreme caution. I picked up my t-shirt purposely not looking at the glaring palm print. I had blood on my hands and I always would.
I shoved my pants and t-shirt into a plastic grocery bag along with my blood spattered Doc Martins. I slipped out of my apartment and made my way down to the basement. Thank God I live in an old building that still has an incinerator. Fire hazard that it was, it allowed me to get rid of the evidence. I tossed the bag and all its contents in the incinerator and watched it ignite. I used a metal rod that had been left in the room to make sure that all of the stuff was burned beyond recognition. As I stood there watching the evidence of my guilt burn a hot orange, I thought how I would need to go out and buy the exact same boots tomorrow. It would look suspicious if I suddenly changed my routine...wouldn't it?
* * *
Almost a month went by and you would think my whole life would have undergone a drastic change but guess what, it hadn't, nothing, nada, zilch, business as usual. Well there was the fact that a perp, one Harrison Canniff, wanted on suspicion of murder, kidnap and molestation was found floating in the water near the southern shores of Santa Monica beach. His body had been burned postmortem and tossed into the water where he probably floated for days, before he was spotted by lifeguards.
"They could smell him from miles."
Smitty had recounted all of this to me. Like I said, he loved a good story. When the body was removed from the water, a small ecosystem had already taken up residence. He had been 160 pounds according to his driver license but by the time he was pulled out he looked closer to 300. When a body floats for a certain amount of time the fatty tissue starts to break down within weeks. The body can swell and bloat even though it may actually weigh less due to the chemical breakdown that it undergoes. The smell is even worse than normal. And I'm here to tell you there is nothing like the smell of a rotting corpse. But one floating in water seems to work up an especially stomach-turning stench.
Anyway, we closed the books on the case. The Captain was happy and the news and the public simply shrugged it off. No one feels bad about the death of a child murderer, right? Nobody, that is, but me.
"Hey, Everett." I nodded to my partner as I sank into the passenger seat of the car with my third cup of coffee for the day. " What's with the raccoon eyes?"
"I'm not sleeping so well."
"Well shit, when have you ever?" Smitty asked as he eased us into traffic. We were headed into the division after following one of several dead ends on yet another cold case that had been dropped into our laps. I gave him a grateful smile as I acknowledged the truth in the statement. I hadn't slept well in a very long time. So maybe it would get better. This emptiness in the pit of my stomach would one day not feel so painful. "Hey, I was meaning to talk to you though, you losing weight? You used to have some meat on your bones, now you just look too skinny."
"Uh yeah, I used to have a little beer belly too." I tried to joke but Smitty wasn't having it so I simply shrugged and made up some half-ass excuse about going on a crash diet.
I was so full of shit. A month earlier I was stuffing hot dogs down my throat and swigging beer with the rest of the guys down at Charlie's. We were watching Shaq and Kobe put the moves on the Kings. It was painful to watch but when all was said and done, I had eaten Charlie out of nearly every hot dog in the place. And while my co-workers were complaining of stomach pains, I was already working my way through the baskets of peanuts from the bar.
"You having problems with what happened?" He asked quietly.
I nodded not removing my eyes from my coffee as he silently maneuvered us through downtown traffic.
Smitty made a right turn into an alley that the patrol cops used to catch people making illegal right turns after six o'clock. He cut the engine and turned to me.
"When I became your partner, I promised your dad that I would make sure that I looked out for you. You need to let this go. It doesn't do any good to dwell on it. That guy wasn't worth it. You saw that kid. When he was done with him he would have killed him and sold the fucking tape just like he did with the others. Hell, you know as well as I do that he has probably messed up more then just that one kid's life. The way I see it, you did the world a favor. You understand?"
"Yeah, I just never thought it would go down like this."
"Like what?"
"I...I never killed anyone, Smitty. I thought when I finally had to, it would be no problem you know... my life or theirs. This was... this wasn't that way." I turned away blinking furiously at the red brick wall. Kimmy loves Stan was crossed out with black spray paint and the words Stan is dead replaced it. I wondered how Kimmy was handling it. Probably better than me.
"You are going to have to let this shit go, Everett." Smitty's voice was unusually gruff.
"I don't know if I can, Smitty. I can't eat, I can't sleep...I can't do anything but see that guy's face as I whaled on him." Smitty had said that when he went to cuff the guy, he noticed that he wasn't breathing anymore. He thought I probably smashed the guy's nasal cartilage into his brain when I kneed him. Killing him instantly.
"I don't know if I can do this," I admitted and waited for Smitty's reaction.
"You thinking about turning yourself in?" He asked tightly.
"Yeah..." Before I could say another word I was wrenched around so that I was facing him.
"Now you listen here, Everett. I know you're sorry. I know you hate that this happened, but damn it there are other people involved. I got a wife and a kid; those two rookies that corroborated the story that he wasn't there when we found the kid have families too. We can't afford to lose our jobs over some two-bit asshole that didn't deserve to live anyway." Smitty glared fiercely into my eyes as the fruitlessness of my situation threatened to pull me under again. I couldn't even confess to my crime without taking people down with me. Smitty had gotten rid of the body so that was aiding and abetting. The two cops that confirmed the story about Canniff not being on the scene when we got there would be in trouble too.
"Have you talked to your father yet?" Smitty asked as he let go of my shoulders to look straight ahead.
"No, I haven't called him since it happened."
"Why don't you call him then? He was on the force for thirty-six years. I'm sure he'll have some insight into all of this."
Contrary to what Smitty might have believed, my father and I aren't exactly close. I respected the man for raising me when my mother left, but our relationship was always stiff at best. He didn't seem to know what to do with me and I was angry because he was never around. It didn't help matters when he married a woman only four years older than me when I was sixteen. I went through a wild, rebellious stage that basically didn't end until I got accepted into the police academy at age twenty-one. Thankfully, my father had been able to clean up any mild scrapes that I wasn't able to talk my way out of so that my record stayed clean.
I moved to Los Angeles and accepted a position with the LAPD because I didn't want to work under my father's shadow in New York. I thought Los Angeles was far enough away that I didn't have to worry about living up to my father's larger-than-life reputation. I was wrong.
On a whim, it seemed my dad decided to come down and visit me before he took his wife to Vegas for a vacation. We had arranged to meet at Charlie's because I didn't want him coming to my apartment and seeing that after six months of living in the same place I still hadn't bothered to buy any furniture. I was late getting to Charlie's because the Captain had insisted that I fill her in on a case that Smitty and I were assigned to.
I walked into the bar to find my dad surrounded by about seven guys from my division. He was obviously regaling them with story after story about what the dumb ass crooks did in New York. It wasn't like New York had the market on shit like that. We see that everyday, I thought grumpily as I sat back and pretended not to listen. All of the guys, especially Smitty, were hanging on every word that he spoke. I wondered why he never told those stories to me. Probably because he thought I wouldn't be interested...he was right.
"I can't tell my dad I killed some defenseless perp, even if he was a worm...." I shook my head. I could already tell that there was nothing I could say to convince Smitty.
"You need to talk to someone that understands the way things work, Everett. Your dad knows how things are and if you won't listen to me maybe you will listen to him. He is going to tell you the same thing. What you're thinking of doing is not going to help anyone in the long run. This guy has already ruined countless family's lives, don't let him ruin four more."
I pressed my fingers to the bridge of my nose trying to stave off an oncoming migraine.
"Those rookies don't deserve to lose their jobs and my kid deserves a daddy and you sure as hell shouldn't be locked up in a jail cell for something most of us would pay money to do. Call your dad; tell him what you're thinking about doing. Just see what he says."
* * *
"Just see what he says," I grumbled as I held my little roommate in my hand and then placed him on my shoulder. "What do you think, Bud? You think I should call up old dad and see what he says about this situation, hmm?" I handed Bud a piece of cheese, which he held in his two hands and after turning it rather delicately popped the whole thing into his mouth. Bud was turning into a chip off the old block. I had never gotten around to releasing him and he had grown on me. I never had a pet before and I never intended on keeping Bud, but he gave me something to come home to. I picked him up and put him in his little hamster-world-thingy so that he could roll around and crash into walls. He seemed to get a great kick out of it and the noise kept me from concentrating on any one thing in particular. If it weren't for Bud, I wouldn't even have bothered coming home. I would have probably just drowned myself in other people's squalid lives at work and hope like hell I could forget my own.
I picked up the phone and dialed the number to my father's condo in New York. I had been saddened when he and my step-monster, as I called her, had sold the house that I grew up in and bought a new high-rise condo after my father's retirement. My step-monster was a fairly accomplished author. Okay, she wrote those fat, paperback romances. You know, the ones that you see in the grocery store with the gay looking man and the busty woman bent in those awkward positions? I wonder if her fans care that she is short and dowdy and married to a man twice her age.
The mean thought was enough to cheer me up along with the fact that the phone had not been answered yet, so I was almost certain to get a reprieve. I was just about to hang up the phone when it was abruptly answered.
"Hello?"
"Uh hello, Dad?"
"Foster? Hi, I was just thinking about you."
"Oh yeah? What about?" I lay back on my bed my eyes closed as I tried to think of a way to bring up the situation to my dad.
"Foster, you there?"
"Oh yeah, Dad, sorry."
"I said, is there something you need to talk to me about?"
"What makes you say that?"
"Well you never call to just shoot the breeze, Foster."
"Uh yeah, there is something I want to talk to you about."
"I don't know where to start." A tear slipped from a corner of my eye and I angrily brushed it away. I expected my father to ask me, as he had for the last few years every time I called him, if I was pregnant. My dad had refused to see the signs even though I have been hitting him over the head with them since I was about fifteen. I would never be interested in men. Nothing against them, hell Smitty is my best friend, they just aren't my thing, never have been. Despite my nonexistent libido I could never muster more than polite conversation with a man.
He didn't make his normal comment though, instead he waited quietly for a moment and then in a soft commanding voice he ordered me to start from the beginning. So I did, telling him all of it, starting from when Smitty got the lead from Jackson and Fuller to today and my conversation with Smitty in the alley. There was complete and utter silence from the other end of the phone.
"I think Smitty's right, Foster."
"You do?" I expelled my breath as my father spoke calmly. He hadn't lambasted me as I thought he would for going agro on that guy.
"What good will come of it if you tell the truth? Smitty's right about the families involved, hell the LAPD doesn't need another lump either."
"But... But, Dad, I... It was in cold blood. The guy didn't even try to fight back."
"Foster, what's done is done. This guy was a low life... a nothing. You and Smitty saved that little boy's life, probably several others, too."
"The point...the point is that he deserved the right to..."
"I know all that Foster, a speedy trial that the tax payers have to pay for so that we can watch that son of a bitch sit up on Court TV in an Armani suit claiming he was molested as a child so it wasn't his fault." My dad's voice faded as I walked over to the window. I didn't have to listen to what he was saying because I had heard it all from Smitty earlier that day.
I stared down at the streets below, brake lights flashed as the cars inched along in traffic like ants on a chalk line. All going somewhere and getting nowhere fast. I held the phone between my shoulder and neck and watched as the drone of my father's voice continued in my ear. A sound behind me caused me to turn and watch as Bud crashed happily into the wall three times before deciding on a different direction. Going nowhere fast.
* * *
I assured my father that I wouldn't do anything without talking to him first and hung up the phone. I watched Bud roll around for a few minutes before putting him back into his little condo and going to take a shower. I wasn't feeling like being at home tonight so I decided to go down to Secrets.
The House of Secrets was a neighborhood women's bar that went through stages of being seedy or trendy depending on what time of year you went. I had long since stopped keeping alcohol in my house, as I was far too likely to drink it to anesthetize myself. Especially after seeing some of the things that I had seen on a daily basis. My father and every older cop I knew drank too much. I didn't want to be like that, so I regulated my alcohol intake. That regulation also included not going to Secrets as much as I would have liked too.
I was surprised when a tall muscular brunette checked my ID at the front door. She looked about my age if not younger about six feet and built like a brick shit house as my friend Marcus would say. Her hair was not as long as mine but she wore hers in a braid as I did. However, that's where the resemblance ended, where mine was always unruly and wisping around my forehead. Hers was brushed back so tightly that it gave her an almost severe look. I couldn't swear to it but I didn't think a hair was out of place. She glanced at my department ID and then stared hard at my driver's license before silently handing it back to me, her eyes already on the next customer. I found my usual dark corner at the edge of the bar unoccupied and ordered a shot of tequila.
"Ouch, hard day, Foster?" Stacy, the owner and sometimes bartender, asked as she slid the shot down. I caught it and tossed it back in one continuous motion. Stacy pushed back blond curls that would have been the envy of every straight haired girl. Unlike mine, which was thick and had a tendency towards frizzing, hers was the kind people strive for when they go out and pay good money for perms.
"Yeah, you could say that," I said as my eyes watered and my chest burned from the drink. Tequila...nasty shit but it sure does the job fast. I quickly swigged down a beer to kill the taste while Stacy helped another customer. She ambled back over and casually slipped another beer in front of me just as I polished off mine.
"Thanks can I get another shot?" She warily handed me the shot. I could tell she was thinking about refusing me, but hell, I was of legal age and nowhere near drunk. " So what's up with this place? I tossed down the tequila trying not to grimace and failing miserably. "It looks busier than usual."
"Yeah the college crowed got hip to us so it's getting pretty busy in here, lot of them graduate in a few weeks though so it'll probably be back to the regulars again. You should stop by more often." She gave me a grin her eyes focused on my chest as I leaned over the bar and grabbed a bowl of peanuts.
Stacy had been trying to get me into bed for at least two years. She and her partner Lisa had one of those open relationships that women sometimes have when they get bored with each other, and are either too scared to be alone, or too chickenshit to break it off.
"Maybe, but you know me, I try to stay away from the alcohol as much as possible."
"Yeah, so whatcha doin' here tonight?"
I shrugged. "Shit, I don't know. Thought I would unwind. Get my mind off some crap."
"Well, then you've come to the right place. Let me know when you need something else." She moved off down the bar to help some chick in a leather vest and crisp new Levi's. I turned away wondering inanely how she could bear to sit down in those hard ass pants. Like every other seedy bar I had ever been to Secrets had a line of mirrors that ran the length of the bar. Obscure brands of liquor lined the shelves in front of it but there was enough space between and above the bottles to allow a person to check out the bars patrons without looking like you were cruising. Stacy had just walked over and handed the big Amazon standing watch at the front door a bottled water and was now standing with her hands on her hips grinning at her for all she was worth. The bouncer was listening politely but seemed as uncomfortable as I was with Stacy's blatant come-ons. I snickered. Better her than me. I finished off the last of my beer and slammed the bottle down on the bar. I was already starting to get numb which was good. It would be nice to get some sleep.
Stacy returned and replaced my empty. I kept watching the bouncer through the mirrors, more out of boredom than anything else. A group of three women, one of whom was a drop-dead gorgeous blond, came staggering through the door. The drop-dead gorgeous one was holding onto the big bouncer's arm as if she knew her. Her friends rolled their eyes and headed towards a table as she continued to hang all over the dark-haired woman. I watched the scene play out, blatantly staring now. The bouncer towered over the blond who was probably my height if not an inch or two shorter. The chic seemed to be saying something pretty intense cause her eyes were half-closed. The bouncer's face didn't register any emotion for a moment before she said a few words and then turned away from the blond. The blond, looking severely miffed, stomped over to her friends and sat down in a huff.
"Whoops, shot cha' down didn't she?" I chuckled and turned around in my seat to get a better look. "Damn, who the hell is that anyway?" I was speaking to myself but Stacy was walking by and overheard. She leaned her elbows on the bar, her eyes looking toward the front door.
"Oh, you mean, Riley? Damn, you sure have been away for a while. Things started getting rough in here with this younger crowed, so I called a security agency that would put a guard at the front door. I said it had to be a female though, you know how some of the ladies feel about men. They said they had the perfect girl for me and sure enough they sent Riley down. She's finishing up her physical therapy degree over at the university but she is working here for the last few months of the season to help me out."
"Yeah? She's a big girl isn't she?"
"Yup, I hate that I'm going to lose her when she heads back home. She intimidates the hell out of most people. We never have any trouble when she's here."
"I should think not." I turned around and cradled my hands around my beer. "I sure as the hell wouldn't want to have to tangle with her."
"Hmm," Stacy smirked. "I don't know, Foster, I would love to bed a big woman like that one.
My eyes seemed to be drawn to the mirror and I was startled to note that she was actually looking in my direction. My lips released the bottle with a pop as I swallowed the beer down. Just a coincidence she isn't looking at me. Her eyes are so blue, I thought just before she looked away.
"Too bad though." Stacy walked away from me as she wiped down the bar her eyes still on the perfectly cut form of the bouncer.
"Too bad about what?" I realized Stacy was still talking and only just managed to keep from choking on another deep drought of beer.
"Too bad she's straight."
"She is?" I turned to look at the giantess at the doorway and was forced to turn back around quickly as she was looking right at me.
"Are you sure she's straight? I mean maybe she just isn't as obvious as that one." I pointed with my chin to Chrissie, Stacy's part-time barkeep. Stacy grinned; she knew what I was talking about. It wasn't the dark labyris tattoos that adorned both of Chrissie's biceps nor was it the ragged hair cut she loved to sport or the tank top with baggy chinos that she wore pretty much everyday, it was more the weak goatee that Chrissie lovingly cultivated on her chin that sort of gave her away. Why she would go so out of her way to look like she did and still insist on being called Chrissie instead of just Chris is beyond me.
"Well, every so often she'll get a call on her cell from some guy named Brad I think. Her face will get all soft and she will immediately ask for a break so that she can go talk to him in private. Even heard her tell him she loved him once or twice. Hell, she even smiles when she is on that thing."
"Really?" I looked at her skeptically again. She was staring down at some poor kid's driver's license. I watched as she wordlessly handed the kid back the card and opened the door. The kid and her friends, embarrassed at being caught, turned and walked out the door. The whole thing transpired without one word ever being uttered by either party.
"I would give my right tit to do her," Stacy supplied as we both were treated to a view of her tight ass and strong thighs as she bent to tie her shoelace while no customers were at the door. She straightened and stomped until her pants fell just right over her boots. I smiled, recognizing the gesture. I did the same thing daily.
"I don't know, Stacy, I prefer my women to be a bit more...approachable. Oh and let's not forget gay."
Stacy shrugged, her eyes still fixed on the brunette as she absently wiped the space in front of me for the fifth time. "But damn, she sure is a looker isn't she?"
"Hmm, I guess." I nodded absently and took a swig of my beer. Stacy had a good ten years on me. She should know that looks and a great body weren't everything. Her partner Lisa didn't have the body that this one did, hell, most mortals don't. Nor was she quite as good looking, but boy was she sweet. Always ready with a smile and a kind word. Hell, I would love to have a woman like Lisa in my life. I glanced at her in the mirror again; still the bouncer was very attractive.
"So you're saying you wouldn't give her a try?"
I shrugged. "Who the hell would want to cuddle with a hard ass, Stacy?"
"Shit I would."
I shook my head. I had been referring to myself when I made the comment but to explain would be inviting another come-on. So I joined Stacy in her little joke and hoped she would change the subject.
"So when's the last time you got laid?"
Here we go again. I took a swig of beer before answering. "Stacy, don't you ever give up?" I chuckled to take some of the sting out of the comment.
"Nah, I'm not talking about me, though you could do worse. I'm just worried about you. You're so tied up in that job of yours that you don't even give off the vibe anymore."
"The vibe?"
"Yeah, you know." Stacy leaned in close "The ŒI'm a lesbian come eat me' vibe."
"Ha, I see, well I'm glad I don't give off that vibe anymore. It could be dangerous."
"Hey look." Stacy was staring at something behind me. Out of habit, I didn't turn around immediately. I casually looked up into the mirrors instead. The raven-haired bouncer had unclipped the cell phone from her belt and was just answering it. She waved two women in and listened intently for a second. I watched in shock as the deadpan features transformed right before my eyes.
"Shit!" I breathed.
"Told yah, gorgeous huh?"
"Damn, yeah I guess she is." Gorgeous just wasn't the right word. She seemed so happy and alive that it was hard not to look at her. Vibrant perhaps was a better word but it still didn't seem to cover it fully.
"Yeah well, Fred or Brett or whatever his name is, is one lucky SOB." Stacy said as I swigged down the rest of my beer and stood unsteadily.
"Well, that's it for me, Stacy. I have sufficiently dulled my senses so I better get going. I have to work tomorrow." After a few more pleasantries, I steered myself towards the door, politely smiling at the welcoming eyes that greeted me on my way. Trust me girls, you really don't want me. I smiled disparagingly, and reached up to push my way through the door.
"Night."
I looked back at the giantess sitting on the stool behind me. I had passed her without so much as a glance. I hadn't seen her say a word to anyone else that had left or came for that matter, so I didn't expect to get any different.
"Goodnight," I answered back as the door shut behind me.
Whew, it's cold out here, I thought as I walked cursing myself for not wearing my bomber jacket. The thin shirt that I wore over my t-shirt did nothing to fend off the biting wind.
I had decided to cut through the dark parking lot to get to my apartment instead of staying on the well-lit sidewalks. Although downtown wasn't the safest area, there had never been any trouble that I could think of at Secrets for as long as I had been going there. The alcohol must have dulled my senses because I barely had enough time to register the footsteps behind me before a powerful hand landed on my shoulder.
Instinctively I whipped around while reaching for my service issue and pointed the gun steadily into the chest of my assailant. First thing they teach you, is never stand close enough that you can get your gun knocked away. I stepped back and aimed carefully at the chest again, which for whatever reason was swaying. I squinted. "Uh ...damn, are you, okay?"
Seems the bouncer from Secrets had followed me outside. She was actually taller than I thought. I only came to her chest--not that that was a bad place to be but damn, she was a big woman. Her face had paled and she looked like she was about to pass out. Her hands were still in the air for some reason. It took a minute for me to realize that I still had the gun trained on her. I dropped my arm hastily.
"Uh sorry about that, but you should really be more careful about who you walk up behind. Oh shit." I grabbed her around her surprisingly small waist as she toppled forward. Her shoulder bumped into my nose causing me to blink rapidly and for a second we just stood that way it was a strangely comforting embrace. I had the oddest impression of chocolate and a warm blanket.
"Here sit down, okay?" She mutely allowed me to ease her down on the curb. "Put your head down, that might help. She put her hands on the back of her neck and looked down at the ground. I watched, feeling guilty as a tremor ran through her body.
"I don't like guns." The growl was muffled but I could still hear the fear, anger, and embarrassment in her voice.
"I'm sorry...I'm a detective; it sort of comes with the job." For some reason, I was talking to this woman as if I was the one that had a good six inches and probably fifty pounds on her instead of the other way around. I touched her back and removed my hand quickly as smooth muscles fluctuated underneath. "Uh, do you think you can stand up?"
I helped her to her feet and we looked at each other for a minute before we both looked away. I had been dating women since I was fifteen years old and fending off guys for about as long. I never felt this awkward around anyone before. And straight or not, she seemed to be feeling the same way. Suddenly I was mortified, as I realized I was staring at her breasts.
"I should go," I told her nervously.
"I...I'm sorry for scaring you." Her voice still sounded faintly muffled as if she had a cold. Probably from not wearing a jacket, I thought as I noticed that she only wore a thin t-shirt.
"I think that's my line. Do you need me for something?" I asked as I holstered my gun.
"No," then almost as an after thought she said, "you're not driving are you?"
I frowned, then it dawned on me that she thought that I might be about to get behind the wheel after all the alcohol I'd had to drink. Stacy's worse fear was that someone would get loaded in her establishment and then go out and kill someone and she would be culpable. She probably had this woman watching everyone. I felt slightly disappointed.
"No I didn't drive. I only live a few blocks away. Thanks for the concern."
"Sure," she said again in that muffled voice of hers.
"Okay, I'm going to go if you're sure you're, okay." She simply nodded and continued to stand there, so I shoved my hands in my pants pockets and started for home. I was tempted to look back because I was positive that she was still watching me from the parking lot. It should have made me uncomfortable but it didn't. It made me feel like I wasn't alone, like someone actually gave a shit if I got home safely or not.
I stifled a chuckle; Yup, my ass is drunker than I thought.
The following morning I was up hours before my alarm clock was to go off. I showered slowly, my mind wandering as I enjoyed the warm rivulets of water; something I rarely had time to do anymore. After I hopped out of the shower, fed Bud, and got dressed, I decided to head to work early. Smitty had taken the rest of the week off to spend some time with his wife and their four-year-old son. I'm sure the Captain was expecting me to be later than normal without Smitty there to call and make sure that I was up. It would be worth the loss of a few minutes of pretending I was sleeping to see the shocked look on her face when I was not only on time but early to boot.
One of the reasons I picked the apartment complex that I lived in was because it was so quiet, thanks to its mostly elderly tenants, and because of its close proximity to the division. It took me less than five minutes to get to either the local women's bookstore, Secrets, the division, Old Navy or the grocery store. Anything other than that, I just did without. Normally, when I walked into the division it was bustling. This particular morning it wasn't. With the exception of a few uniforms that were just coming off the graveyard shift, the place was almost empty. Glancing over at the Captains office I noted the time. 5:30. Shit, I honestly couldn't remember ever being out of bed this early.
I was standing at the coffee machine waiting for my cup to fill when I noticed a familiar looking uniform standing behind me.
"I'll only be a minute."
"Oh no, uh, take your time, Detective Everett."
Damn, I thought. So this guy knows my name. I guess I'm supposed to know his. I am not good with names but I never forget a face. I glanced up and gave the guy a fake smile and went back to staring at my coffee cup as it filled. Finally it was done and I reached into the machine to gingerly grab the hot concoction. With another polite smile, I turned to go.
"Um, Detective, may I talk to you?"
I winced at the all to familiar words. I had been at this division for three years and in that time, nearly every unmarried and not so unmarried man, in the place, had asked me out. I have a policy that I stick to and that is: I don't date cops, especially not male ones. Period. I know it sounds a bit harsh, but I only have room for one narcissistic asshole in my life and that position is already filled by me. See what I mean?
I turned around, the fake "who the hell are you" smile plastered across my face as I waited for the uniform to speak. I noted the wedding band on his finger and thought, I had better be wrong about the conversation we are about to have, Mister, cause I don't take kindly to being asked out by married men, especially those not smart enough to remove their rings.
"Uh, I just wanted to say thank you."
Okay, what the hell is this kid talking about? I looked him over carefully, like I said I never forget a face, and for sure I did know him from somewhere but I figured it had to be from around the division. I didn't think I had ever spoken to him; that I would have remembered.
"Uh, you're welcome, Officer...?"
"Oh, Goldstein." He reached out his hand shyly and I took it. I could tell from the way he held himself that he was still wet behind the ears. Couldn't have been on the force very long for him to blush so easily.
"You're welcome, Officer Goldstein. Now can you refresh my memory as to what you're thanking me for?"
I watched the young officer blush again before he looked around and stepped closer. "For the package that Smitty...Detective Smith brought by the other day. I was able to get my wife something nice and my kid some clothes and things, pay off a few bills. You know how it is, they don't pay us much." He shrugged and must have noticed my shock because he started to shift uncomfortably.
"Hey look, Smitty said that me and Grady shouldn't say thanks or anything to you but I wanted to thank you anyway for thinking of us and to let you know that we would have done the same thing if given half the chance. You and Smitty didn't have to take care of us like that, but we do appreciate it."
"Uh, you're welcome." It was becoming impossible for me to continue this conversation. My mouth was so dry that I took a big swallow of my coffee, grateful that it burned my throat on the way down. Smitty had given this kid hush money to cover my ass. I didn't know what to feel at that moment. I needed to speak to Smitty, this was getting more complicated by the moment. He had already committed several crimes to cover up something that I had done. The kid's mouth was still moving but I wasn't listening. I tuned back in just as he was finishing up his statement.
"...I promised that I wouldn't say anything else about this to anyone including you but I just had to say thank you. It was a big help for my family and me and if you ever need anything else then I'm your guy."
I made the appropriate sounds I guess because the officer looked pleased as he walked away.
Why would Smitty pay this kid off and then tell him not to say anything to me about it? It didn't make sense. The kid made it clear that he was glad to help out. I walked back to my desk, put the cooling cup of coffee down, and stared out into space. I leaned forward and booted up my computer.
Even though the case was closed as far as we were concerned, homicide still had an open case file. Child murderer or no, this guy's murder had to be investigated. I doubted they would spend too many resources on it though. After a few months, the case would no doubt become inactive or a cold case, which sickeningly enough was mine and Smitty's territory. Smitty was right. He had taken care of it. Once the case was given to us it would be buried so deep no one would ever think to investigate.
The homicide info was bleak and no nonsense. Harrison Caniff, age 34, small business owner, died from blunt trauma wounds to the head and face. Approximate time of death: 7:30 PM on the evening of April 16,2001. Autopsy report states that Caniff was already dead when his body was doused with gasoline and set on fire. Nearly all teeth in his mouth had been busted out making it hard to do a dental I.D. His wife identified him based on the vaguely discernable tattoo on his right shoulder, and a gold cap on his bicuspid.
I sank back in my chair. That creature had had a wife, someone who probably was missing him and in pain because of what I had done. I was staring at the screen as if it would somehow give me the answers that I needed.
I couldn't have kneed Canniff so hard that all of his teeth would be busted out. That much I'm sure of. The bones of your nose are easily broken I should know mine have been broken twice from wrestling with some perp. But to break all the teeth out of someone's head, that takes a great deal of force. The only other possible solution would be Smitty had worked the body over after I left. I tried to fight down the bile that was threatening to come up in my throat. Smitty said he had done some things to cover my ass before he dumped the body, namely burning it. He had explained that he had to do that to make sure that neither of us inadvertently left evidence on the body. But to beat the shit out of it? Certainly it had held up the identification process, but to what purpose? It just seemed so brutal. But then again Smitty was trying to make it look like a hit.
It only took minutes for me to start blaming myself for what Smitty was doing to protect me. I could never forgive myself if something happened and he was somehow screwed because of me. I hadn't felt like that much of a fuck up in years.
I quickly exited the info on Canniff and stood up just as the Captain walked in.
"Well, Detective Everett, I must say I'm pleasantly surprised to see you here so early. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
I was in no mood to deal with her wisecracks about my usual tardiness. In fact, I wasn't in the mood to deal with her period, so I shrugged and tried to look as busy as possible in the hopes that she would go away. She didn't of course.
"Detective, can I see you in my office for a minute?" She asked before disappearing into her hovel.
Shit, shit, shit, so much for a good day. I found her seated behind her desk already. I sat down in the rather uncomfortable chair across from her feeling like a petulant child that has been called to the principal's office.
"Is something wrong, Detective?"
"No, why do you ask?"
"I've noticed that you're not yourself lately."
I wanted to tell her that she didn't know what the hell myself actually was so how could she know when I wasn't it. Again, I just shrugged. I know, I was acting childish but I hated feeling cornered and that's exactly how this woman made me feel.
"May I ask you something?" She sat back in her chair and neatly folded her hands on her desk. "Why is it that you and I don't talk? We're both women. You would think we would get along better, but from the moment I came here I sensed animosity coming from you."
Now what the hell is this all about, I wondered as I stared at her disbelievingly. It wasn't like she had ever shown any interest in whether I had animosity toward her in the past. I looked at her Armani suits and superbly coifed hair. The woman was not a cop; she was a pin-up girl. She was someone who would and should ride a desk her whole life.
"What do you mean, Captain? I always thought we got along great?" Hot damn, this lying shit was starting to be too easy. I plastered a look of complete befuddlement on my face and watched her closely as she tried not to show her shock.
"Well okay, perhaps I've been getting the wrong signals but I just wanted you to know that if you ever need someone to talk to about work or anything, I'm always here for you."
"I'll keep that in mind Captain...thanks." I exited her office, resisting the urge to take a look behind me to make sure she hadn't transformed into something hideous.
Now, I am not an idiot. I know that there wasn't an ounce of sincerity in that offer of friendship. The Captain could normally give two shakes of a rat's ass if I fell off the face of the earth as long as I did all my paperwork before I took the plunge. Now she wanted to be my best friend?
I slumped down in my chair and racked my brain. Finally, I decided that I couldn't wait for Smitty to come in next week. I needed to find out what the hell was going on. I spent hours getting my paperwork in order and following up, by phone, on a few leads.
It was nearly 12:30 when I finished. Half the people in the division had already headed down to the cafeteria. Even the Captain was gone so I decided to pay Smitty a visit at home.
* * *
With Smitty out on vacation, the Captain broke down and allowed me to check out a car. I wasn't too happy about having to drive one of the big Crown Victoria's though, I would have much rather had something a little less...matronly. I hate not being able to see the ground when I drive and these things handle like boats. Sighing, I pulled into Smitty's driveway and took an appreciative look around. My partner lived in a great neighborhood. Lots of nice hard-working young couples that made sure that they kept their yards manicured and what not. It's a big difference from living downtown. If I ever settled down...
As I approached Monica's Ford minivan the hairs on my arms stood up as they always did. I vaguely wondered if she felt odd transporting infant bodies and her own young son in the same vehicle. I always imagined that the eyes of dead babies watched me from behind the Aerostar's tented windows. I passed by the van swiftly ignoring the urge to look back. I pushed Smitty's doorbell and admired the welcome mat that I hadn't noticed the last time I visited. In a few minutes Monica opened the door and with a squeal, launched herself at me. She hugged me so tight I was hard pressed to catch my breath. She then proceeded to plant a fat one on my lips. Right there on the front porch-- neighbors be damned.
Monica had been greeting me like this since we first met. I will admit to being somewhat reluctant to meet her when Smitty and I were first partnered because she was the only daughter of Los Angeles Police Chief Herbert James. A singularly unmoving figure, he probably hadn't been out on the streets in at least twenty years. His ideas on law enforcement were out-dated and ineffective.
I found Monica however, to be a smart, attractive woman who was exceedingly affectionate ...at least where I was concerned. Shit, all the good ones are taken. I grinned as she started to fawn over me. I always teased Smitty about it but secretly I enjoyed it immensely.
"My God, every time I see you, you just look so damn cute. Look at those pants, they are just falling off of you, you look about sixteen years old and is that a new earring? My God, how many do you have in your ear now?"
"Only three." I grinned as I was finally able to get a word in. She pulled the silver chain out of my t-shirt and literally started straightening my clothes. Her hands were heading towards my belt when I looked over her shoulder at Smitty. I begged him silently to stop her before she unbuckled my pants and started trying to tuck my shirt in. Smitty was grinning widely and I could tell that he was thinking about letting her continue. The big smart ass. If he wanted to play, we could play. Let her open my pants if she wants. My t-shirt isn't that long and I haven't worn panties since I was in high school, buddy. I must have looked like I was starting to enjoy myself because Smitty finally intervened.
"Hey, hey I'm standing here; you two cut it out." Smitty had a big grin on his face; he was used to Monica's exuberant greetings. I think he liked to see how uncomfortable it made me.
"Hey, Smitty, sorry for dropping by on your day off."
"Oh, please you know you're always welcome here," Monica answered for him before pulling me by the hand into the kitchen. I could tell Smitty was all set to make some smart assed remark so I pursed my lips at him as his wife pulled me behind her. Now I will admit to having a small crush on Monica. Hell, who wouldn't? She's a beautiful woman not to mention her overly exuberant greetings when it comes to me. Before you get any ideas, the answer is no. I would never do that to Smitty. He is my best friend and partner... But one look at Monica and you wouldn't blame a girl for dreaming.
"So, what brings you here today, Foster?" She plopped me down on a chair out back where they had obviously been sitting and relaxing before I came by.
"I needed to speak to Joe about something from work, Mon." I always switched to Joe; Mon didn't like the name Smitty. Someone should tell her that it was her husband's idea to be called that.
"Oh yeah, what about?" Smitty asked as he sat down in the chair next to mine handing me a glass of lemonade.
I drank some of it and winced, before swallowing it down. "Who made this?"
"I did why?" He asked before taking a healthy swallow and leaning back with an, "ahhhhh."
"Uh, Smitty, you know you are supposed to put lemons in this too, not just sugar." I placed my glass on the small table between us. I was never one to complain about sweets but even I had my limits.
"Hey, I put lemons in it but I hate when lemonade is too tart. I like it sweet."
Monica shook her head. I noticed that she was having iced tea and not the sugar water that we were drinking. I would have to remember to have her get my drink in the future.
"Hey, Monica, would you mind if I talk to Joe alone?"
"Sure, I need to go check on the food anyway." Monica stood up; she hadn't been the wife of a cop for as long as she had by not knowing when to disappear. Another great thing about her. What? I'm just saying the woman is great.
"So what's up, Foster?"
"Well, uh.... "
It was weird, I was always the one doing the questioning and talking to suspects. Smitty said I had the gift of gab, but right then I was speechless. I'm sure it was a temporary condition but disconcerting nonetheless.
"Um listen, Smitty, I have some questions to ask you. I'm sorry I came over here while you're off, but something has been bugging me all day."
"Sure, Foster, you know you can ask me anything."
"Okay, well you know I'm having a hard time with...what's happened?"
"Yeah, but it will get easier. Did you talk to your dad yet?" I ignored the anger that welled up in my chest at that question.
"Yeah, I did. He said pretty much the same thing that you did."
He nodded satisfied and settled back in his chair. I pretended to do the same but my mind was working a mile a minute.
"Smitty, I ran into Officer Goldstein this morning at the division." I waited to see what his reaction was but he still seemed to be watching Monica who was flipping some burgers over the grill.
"Officer Goldstein? Who's that?" His voice was nonchalant, almost too much so. It could be the fact that I was having such a hard time with everything but I was getting a feeling that there was more to this than Smitty was telling me.
"One of the cops that was there that night."
Smitty looked at me for a minute and then went back to staring at his wife. "I thought we weren't going to talk about this anymore. The whole idea was to clean it up, get all eyes off you, and then go on with our lives. Why are you bringing this up now, Foster? As near as I can tell, you're home free."
"I know, and I'm not in jail right now because of you and I'm truly grateful for it. It's just...something Goldstein said struck me as odd."
"What did he say?" Smitty still seemed to be calm, which made me feel all the more uncomfortable with what I was about to ask.
"He said that you gave him what I think amounted to hush money."
"He did, did he?"
"Yeah, he said that you gave he and Grady, the other officer, money. He basically came and thanked me for it, thinking it came from me."
"So what? They helped me with the body, they deserved it."
"Okay, but where did all this money come from, Smitty? You and Mon have a small child and she doesn't work outside of the home. That means one salary. You have this house here and the mortgage can't be that cheap. And two cars that are both less than three years old which means a car note."
"So what are you trying to imply, Everett?" Smitty was a wonderful guy. I had seen him go off the deep end on a few people and had often thought I would never want to be on the receiving end of his anger.
"Look, I'm not implying anything. I just want to know where the money came from and why you would do something like that and not tell me. I don't want you putting your family in hock for me. Hell, I would rather turn myself in."
Smitty tensed and turned quickly towards me. He looked to make sure that Monica was out of earshot then he leaned in close.
"Listen to me, Foster. You are not going to turn yourself in so stop it, you hear me? I did give those two cops money but it wasn't hush money, it was just for helping out. Both of them would have stood in line for the chance of taking that guy out."
I remembered that Goldstein pretty much said the same thing earlier. I so wanted to believe that I wasn't screwing up anyone else's life but my own that I nodded my head eagerly.
"Look, I'm going to tell you this because I know you are bothered by the whole issue. But once I tell you, I don't want to hear about it anymore. I mean it, Foster; this could mean my ass this time. I'm not willing to risk my family because you got a guilty conscience."
"I hear you, Smitty, now tell me what's going on."
"The money comes from someone I know...a friend."
"A friend?"
"Yeah, He was in law enforcement too. He helps cops out when they are having trouble making ends meet or something like this happens. Anyway he created this special group with a few old cops. The fund was started a few years back when a bunch of cops got themselves into trouble and couldn't afford adequate defense. When the press starts swaying the public, it is almost impossible for a good cop to survive public ridicule, so whenever possible the coalition steps in. If we can, we try to stop it from ever becoming an issue like in your case. In cases where we can't stop it from going to court, we provide anonymous donations for a legal defense. Only a select few people know about it in the department. The sole purpose is to help clean up situations that aren't exactly criminal. Like your situation. You aren't the first to take care of a scumbag, Foster, and you wont be the last."
"Hey, Foster, you want a hot dog or a burger?" Monica yelled from across the yard, giving me a chance to mull over what Smitty had just said.
"No thanks, I'm not hungry," I yelled back. She looked at me strangely for a moment then turned back to her grill.
"You should have taken the burger, Foster, now she is going to think something is wrong when there really isn't."
I looked over at Smitty and then back at Monica. "Tell her I had a stomach ache."
"She knows you better than that, Foster, you have a cast iron stomach. I'll think of something."
"Sorry, Smitty, you seem to be pulling me out of trouble a lot here lately."
"Yup, that's my job, to pull people I care about out of trouble." His eyes focused on Monica and then he took a sip of his sugar water.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."
I sat back in the chair for a few moments my mind reeling with what I had been told. Something in me rebelled against the very existence of such a fund. I didn't want to go to jail but, to the same extent, I pledged my life to the law. The idea that I, as well as others in my field, needed someone who would help us out when we broke the law left me disheartened.
"Smitty, I should get back to the division. You know how the Captain is when she feels that you aren't there to look out for me."
"Yeah, I know," he said quietly. I could tell that he was regretting having told me so much but I couldn't muster up enough energy to make him feel better. The world felt like it was tipping on its axis and I was halfway hoping I would just fall the hell off.
Monica came out of the house holding a very grumpy and still half asleep Erick in her arms. I patted his wispy blond curls and smiled as he hid his face in his mother's neck.
After getting my obligatory goodbye smooch from Monica, I followed my partner to the front door. Normally, I enjoyed the friendly lip lock; straight women are so funny. But this time, my mind was on what Smitty had told me. Smitty followed me down a hall that I always thought of as "the shrine" because it only contained pictures that Monica had painstakingly hung of her deceased mother. Smitty and I paused at the entryway and he turned to me, his face now creased with anxiety.
"Listen, Foster, my purpose in telling you this was to make you feel better but also so you will understand there are a lot of people that could take a fall if you don't just let this go. You need to consider yourself lucky and forget about it. These people are serious players and if they sense that you are not willing to play the game, they could not only take back their support, but things could get real nasty."
I narrowed my eyes at Smitty; I didn't like where this conversation was going. "You're not threatening me are you, Smitty?"
"Goddamn it Foster, get your head out of your ass long enough to hear what I'm saying! This is a lot bigger than either of us. A lot of people stepped up to the plate to make sure you didn't get the blame for this but they are not going to take a fall for either you or me."
All of a sudden I saw something in his eyes that I hadn't noticed before. I had been so caught up in my own guilt that I didn't see what had been evident this whole time. His face was almost two shades lighter than normal and he had a light sheen of sweat across his forehead. Detective Joseph Smith, my partner, was afraid of something.
"Shit, Smitty, look I'm sorry. This conversation never happened, okay?" He had risked his livelihood for me. He didn't deserve to feel the way he did. I would simply have to find some way to get through this on my own.
He took a deep shaky breath and nodded thankfully. Instead of me feeling relieved, I was feeling more and more anxious. This was not good. Smitty was no coward and he certainly had not ever let me see that he was scared about anything. No, if he was afraid of something it had to be pretty bad.
"Thank you, Foster. I think that would be for the best."
I left Smitty standing in the entryway of his perfect house with his perfect wife and perfect child. I hoped he didn't feel as dirty as I did.
~ Chapter 4 ~
"I don't know, Smitty, this shit doesn't seem kosher to me. This guy doesn't show up for a meeting with his parole officer on the last day of his parole? The only thing I can think of is he either thinks he's going to pop positive on his drug test or he's dead."
"Yeah well, this is his last known address before he moved in with the current girlfriend, so maybe he decided to go back to his ex-girlfriend or something." I rolled my eyes. We were grasping at straws and both of us knew it.
I skirted several broken toys and a beer bottle as I walked up the driveway to the dilapidated house. I had been feeling run down all day. It was a typical Monday. I was happy to have Smitty back from vacation but now I was feeling like I needed one. Hell, I was tempted to have a seat on one of the torn, ripped chairs that was sitting on the sagging front porch. Smitty and I were having one of those days. You know the ones where everything seemed to run into a dead end. We had been following up leads on a kidnapping from nearly a year ago and all of them pointed to Michael Stratford as being a source of possible info. Both Smitty and I were pretty certain that we were dealing with a homicide at this point. They usually don't show up breathing after a few days.
Smitty was about as frustrated as I was with our lack of progress. Our informant was pretty reliable so we expected to find the girl, no matter what, within the week. We hadn't. This Michael Stratford had not been home in days and did not show up for his last meeting with his parole officer. Not unusual, but from all reports he seemed to be doing well. He had a new job, a new girlfriend and a new baby on the way. Most telling was the fact that his own parole officer seemed surprised at his disappearance and by nature parole officers are as cynical as they come.
As a last resort, we decided to go to his ex-girlfriend's house to see if he was laying low there. Smitty was now taking out his frustration on the door. "Hey, Smitty, ease up. That thing doesn't look like it's too sturdy."
The door was wrenched open and a skinny white woman with scraggily bleach-blond hair was standing there with a sheet wrapped around her apparently naked body.
"What the fuck you want?" she yelled.
"Uh Alicia Alexander? I'm Detective Smith and this is Detective...."
She opened the door wider and gestured that we should come into her house. Somewhere in the background, a baby was wailing but she didn't seem to think anything of it so I tried not to worry about it either.
"Move, Fee Fee." A little girl of about four with almond skin and dark curls immediately hopped off the couch with her doll in tow, eyeing us as if we were the devil incarnate before settling on the floor to play.
"It's about time ya'll got here. Shit, I called yesterday on that punk ass mo-ther- fuck-er!"
I winced and looked down at the child who was still happily playing with her doll seemingly not bothered in the least by the language. "Uh, ma'am, who are you talking about? Michael?"
"Michael? Michael? What you talking about Michael for? If I see'm I'm going to bust his ass over my child support. He late again. I ain't see'd Michaels's ass since Fee Fee's birthday party. I heard he think he too good to come around here. He got hisself saved by the lord and some new girlfriend that's a secretary over in one of them law firms downtown. He don' forgot about his first-born ain't that right, Fee Fee? It's just me and you, baby, come give momma a kiss." I watched vaguely disgusted as mother and daughter shared a moment obviously orchestrated for me and Smitty." Now go give PJ his pacifier, I can't even hear myself think up in here." I watched Fee Fee scamper off and in seconds the howling in the backroom ceased. I suddenly felt really sorry for this kid.
Smitty was about to thank her for her time but I stopped him. I was curious about something she said. "Then who did you call us about?"
"That punk ass mo-ther- fuck-er Popeye Jenkins stole some shit from me. That's what I called ya'll slow asses for!"
I was familiar with Paul or "Popeye" Jenkins I had busted him at least five times when I was patrol cop. I think he was about twelve at the time. The charges ranged from petty theft, drug possession, and auto theft. After I was promoted, I heard that he started to rise pretty high in the drug dealing ranks before he committed the ultimate sin of any businessman whether it be legal or illegal. He started enjoying his product too much. I felt sorry for his mother.
"What did he steal?"
The scraggily blond stopped for a moment and looked at me and Smitty suspiciously. "Like I told the woman at the 911. I ain't saying what he took."
"What do you mean you can't say? How are we supposed to get it back for you if we don't know what it is?" Smitty asked, some of his frustration seeping out.
She thought about it then I could have sworn I saw a light bulb go on above her head. "Come on I got something."
Before either Smitty or I could protest, she had walked though a door and down a hallway strewn with broken toys and children's clothes.
"Look here," she said pointing triumphantly. "Look what that fucker did to my toilet. How about that? I want to press charges about that. Bet he will give me my shit back then won't he?"
"Ma'am are you saying Popeye broke your toilet?" Smitty asked incredulously.
"You damn right that's what I'm saying. He stood on it and broke the damn thing. We have to go to the neighbor's house to pee till I can pay to get someone out here to fix it. Shit, I don't get my next check Œtill the fifteenth."
I was hard-pressed not to laugh at the woman as she stood in the bathroom with a sheet barely covering her trying to convince us to arrest a known junkie for breaking her toilet. She was so angry that she was forgetting to hold up her sheet and her scrawny ass was hanging out. I'm not sure if Smitty could see where this was going but I sure as hell could and it was damn funny.
"So, let me get this straight. Popeye was standing on your toilet, doing what?" I tried to knock into Smitty to get him to shut up. It wasn't our job anyway. We could send some uniforms over later. Smitty ignored me. I could tell his curiosity was peaked so I decided to shut up and let him go for it.
I slipped my hand as casually as possible into my pocket and pushed record. The small tape recorder that I used instead of lugging around a note pad was about to pay off. I figured Smitty would pay good coffee money to have me not play this tape for people. Maybe next time he would listen to me.
"I guess he was trying to get out this here window."
"Now why would he do that?" Smitty continued to question.
I knew why, but I wanted to see her try to wiggle out of answering the question. I had so few pleasures in my job.
"Well see he was sneaking out the window with the shit that he stole from me."
"Uh huh, well, ma'am, I'm sure Popeye is going to say that the toilet thing was an accident. We really can't hold him for that unless he was trying to do it on purpose, and unless you tell us what he stole, we can't arrest him for that either," Smitty told her kindly. I looked up at him grinning and back at her to see what her reaction was. Ahh shit, she's losing more of the sheet.
"You want to know what he stole?" She was really getting worked up; now her left breast was exposed. I was hoping that she wouldn't decide to just be done with the sheet and toss it aside. Now mind you I'm not opposed to looking at naked young ladies, but I draw the line at crackheads.
"He stole my god-damn pipe." She had a talent for dragging out her curse words, got-damn and mo-th-er- fuck-er; just sounds so much better when you say it like that.
Smitty looked at me for help but I was too busy looking at the floor. You're on your own, buddy. I thought while I giggled my ass off under the guise of a cough.
* * *
"You're bullshitting us right?" I threw back the free buttery nipple, swallowed down the sweet concoction, and grinned as the heat hit my chest. "I'm telling you the truth. She called the police because Popeye stole her crack pipe."
"Son of a bitch." Chrissie and Stacy looked at each other with their mouths hanging open. I had told them several stories ranging from the perp who tried to dress up in his mother's clothes to avoid detection, to old Jim over at the Liberty Apartments who decided that he was tired of the low flying helicopter making all that noise and decided he was going to take a shot at it with a rifle. But the piece de resistance, Alicia and her broken toilet, had won me my buttery nipple and the amazed looks that I was now receiving from Chrissie and Stacy.
"So what did you guys do?" Chrissie asked still awestruck.
"Well, there was nothing we could do. We couldn't very well go after Popeye for stealing something that's illegal in the first place."
Chrissie walked off shaking her head. We had been shooting the breeze for over an hour. Both of them were keeping me company as I drank buttery nipples to the point that I no longer had that annoying self-doubt in the back of my head.
"Hey, don't you ever get scared out there? I mean I listen to my radio all the time and some of the shit I hear is scary."
Stacy was what is commonly called a police scanner ho'. She listens to the police frequency on the radio day in and day out. Some people were addicted to the Internet; Stacy's thing was the police scanner. Even going so far as to call in and correct people when they used incorrect call numbers. Didn't endear her in the eyes of the folks in dispatch.
"Nah," I tossed my hand dismissively. "You can't be a good cop and be scared of shit. You would be a dead cop."
"But aren't you afraid of those big guys you have to deal with? I mean what if your partner isn't around."
"Spoken like a truly modern woman, Stacy." I saluted her with my empty shot glass. "Besides, I'm not scared of anyone. The bigger they are, the harder you gotta hit them." Okay, I sound like an asshole here but I was drunk and probably suffering from a slight Napoleon complex.
"How about her then? You're not scared of her?" Stacy pointed with her chin and folded her arms over her big boobs. I blinked at them for a moment and spun around in my chair to see who she was talking about. Once the world caught up with me and I was sure I wasn't going to fall off my chair, I focused in on my unsuspecting target. The quiet bouncer. As was her habit, sat at the front door checking ID's and charging a cover after eight o'clock. She always silently waved me in even though I would make sure that I had my money ready when I walked through the door.
"Her...you want me to hit her?" I gestured with my thumb and asked a bit too loudly. A few of the regulars sitting at the tables nearest us over heard my question and blatantly began to eavesdrop.
"Woman, are you sick? She would knock you silly I don't care how tough you are. No, how about something a little more interesting Ms. bold and beautiful."
"Sure, whatcha got?" I leaned my elbows drunkenly on the bar ignoring the water that seeped through my shirt and wet my elbows.
"Okay, I dare you to go over there and kiss her." Stacy said with a very self-satisfied smirk on her face.
"What?"
"You have to kiss her and I don't mean a peck on the cheek either. I mean a long, hot kiss on the lips. And it better last for at least five seconds or no deal."
"Uh uh, Foster, I wouldn't do that. Man she isn't even gay and she may try to kill you." Chrissie chimed in helpfully.
"Oh and that's another thing, hand over the gun. No pulling it on her when she goes to tear your head off." Stacy held out her hand palm up and wiggled her fingers.
"No way, I'm not handing over my gun to no civilian." I shook my head.
"What's the matter shorty? You afraid of the big bad Amazon?" Stacy teased.
I reached down and ripped the holster off of my belt and slammed it down on the bar. "Don't get any fingerprints or juices on it." I swiveled around in my seat. Most of the people in the club had no idea what was going on until I started the walk towards the front door. You know the "I'm going to get me some walk?" Anyway I don't know how it got started, but the girls started chanting something.
She was sitting on a bar stool at the front door. Her hair was brushed back into its usual tidy braid and she was neatly dressed in pressed jeans and a meticulously ironed T-shirt. Who in the hell irons creases into their t-shirts, anyway? She seemed to be reading some type of small magazine when I walked up. I briefly wondered why she hadn't noticed the chanting going on around us, but I pushed it to the far recesses of my mind and stepped in front of her. She was either ignoring me or truly into her magazine, because she didn't even look up. So, I reached up and tapped her lightly on her shoulder. She jumped, lowered her magazine and looked up at me quizzically.
"Hi," I said with as sexy a smile as I could muster as drunk as I was, and stepped between her open legs.
"Hi...." she answered back and before she could finish whatever it was she was going to say, I had grabbed her behind the neck and covered her mouth with mine. Her lips quivered a little as I gently opened mine to gain access. I held her shoulder with my other hand and stepped closer to her until my hips were pressing tightly between her thighs. So sweet, I thought as I continued to kiss the softest lips I had ever felt. My hands, of their own accord, ran down her toned arms to the hands that I hadn't realized were holding my hips. They glided back up her arms and didn't stop until they reached her face. I felt like I was lost and found all at once. Like I was suffocating but breathing for the first time. She's trembling, was the last thought I had as the sweet lips abruptly released mine and I was pushed away. I looked questioningly up at her stony face. She was staring at something behind me.
The chanting had apparently reached deafening proportions while I was enchanted by the kiss. Stacy was swirling her towel around her head and everyone else was clapping or hollering. "What the fuck...?"
"You win! My god, woman, you got balls. All drinks for Foster are on the house."
The wide grin on Stacy's face started to fade as I looked at her, horrified. I could feel her presence behind me. I could tell from Stacy's and just about everyone else's expression that she was not amused. I closed my eyes before turning around slowly, prepared to take the major ass kicking that I was about to receive and no doubt deserved.
I looked up and was shocked to find pain not anger in the bouncer's blue eyes. She dropped the magazine and quickly got down off of her stool and walked out of the club. I winced as the door slammed back against the wall before it slowly began to close. The club was almost completely quiet behind me; the dozen or so women that had been witness to my attempt to win stupidest bitch of the year seemed about as stunned as I was.
"Ahhh shit, Riley...?" I heard Stacy call from behind me. I had never felt anything like that in my life. That kiss was everything that I had ever hoped for. It was warm and comforting, as well as erotic and sensuously shy. I numbly bent down and picked up her magazine.
"The Incredible Hulk meets the Fantastic Four. A comic book? She was reading a comic book!" I said to myself.
"Foster, I'm so..." I ignored Stacy's hand on my shoulder and at a run pushed through the door to go after Riley. I folded the book and stuffed it into my back pocket as I ran.
She was already halfway across the parking lot and her long strides were eating up ground fast.
"Riley, please stop," I called to her but she kept walking, her posture telling me that she was more than just a little angry. I swallowed nervously. "Riley, let me talk to you."
Riley didn't look back or stop so I had to keep running after her. Never drink five shots if you're going to have to go running after someone. Doesn't work well; I would be happy if I caught up to her without puking my guts out.
"I can explain everything." Hmm, I couldn't really but I was going to do everything in my power to try. I felt like such an ass. Hell, I am an ass.
I finally caught up to her and reached out and grabbed her by the shoulder. She whipped around, her fist balled, and I jumped back and held up my hands much as she had in our first meeting.
"I'm sorry, okay? I didn't...."
Her face crumpled before my eyes and then she seemed to get a grip on herself.
"I'm sorry, Riley," I told her softly but she just stared at me angrily, her jaw working and her hands still balled tightly at her sides."
"Why? I never did anything to you." Her voice was even deeper than the last time. God, I hoped she wasn't going to cry; I already felt like a first class asshole.
"I don't know. It was dumb...? Please come back with me. I want to try to explain."
"No!"
"Please?" I tried to give her a smile, but she only stared at me, her face as impassive as ever.
"I'm not going back in there."
She turned to walk away again and I grabbed her arm. I don't know what I was thinking when I decided to play with this woman, but based on the solid muscle that I was holding on to, she probably could rip my head off with her bare hands and as guilty as I was feeling, I probably wouldn't put up much of a fight.
"Okay, can we please talk here then?" I asked her quietly as she didn't seem to want to turn around. We stood that way for a few moments before she finally turned and glared at me.
"What do you want?"
"May I please explain? You don't need to go back in, but I just want to talk to you."
She shrugged and I motioned for her to sit down on the curb with me, which surprisingly enough, she did.
We sat there for about five minutes, neither of us speaking. A semi pulled up in front of a warehouse across from us and honked. I turned to find her staring intently at me so I looked straight ahead again pretending to be fascinated by the ruckus going on across from us as I gathered my thoughts.
"I am so sorry for what I just did. I didn't think about how it could make you feel. I drank too much. I know that is no excuse but I didn't mean to hurt..."
I didn't want to take any chances on making her mad so I rephrased my statement. "I didn't mean to embarrass you like that. It was a stupid dare, one I normally wouldn't have taken but I...."
"Had been drinking," She finished for me.
Her deep voice so close to my ear and the bluntness of the statement caused me to start.
"Yes."
"I've been watching you." She said.
I turned to look at her and found that she was sitting close, a little too close. So I quickly focused my eyes on the commotion across the street. Huge doors slide up making a noise like the crashing of thunder. Men spilled from inside and began yelling to each other over the sound of the semi's engine. I pretended to watch as they began to unload the truck, the noise they made would have been deafening if we had been any closer. I hoped that Riley would wait until it quieted down before we continued to talk, it would give me a chance to gather my scattered thoughts.
"You've been drinking a lot." The statement was made with little to no inflection. She didn't even bother to raise her voice over the den caused by the semi, she didn't have to, we were sitting so close that I heard every word.
"I know I have." I leaned my head forward on my knees trying to break the tension that I felt.
I felt her hand on my shoulder as she gently raised my head and looked at me with her penetrating blue eyes. "What's wrong? What are you trying to forget?"
I swear I think my heart stopped in that moment. It's not like I even knew her at all but she could sense that something wasn't right with me. I wanted badly to be able to tell her everything. I wanted to tell someone. I hadn't heard from my dad since I phoned him about my problem. It hurt that he didn't call to check up on me. Smitty made it clear that the subject was closed. I had been feeling so alone that I was resorting to something that I had sworn would not happen to me.
"Its just some stuff that I'm going to have to get through on my own I guess."
I looked down again only to have her gently lift my head up by my chin and continue to look deeply into my eyes. For a brief crazy moment, I thought she might kiss me. Generally speaking, I don't like people touching me. Okay, I have hurt people for less than this but she was...different. I enjoyed how I was feeling right then and I suddenly realized that I wouldn't be opposed to another kiss.
"Did you think that was funny back there?" The question should have left me speechless but it didn't. I answered truthfully not attempting to turn away even though I wanted too.
"No," I said a little too loudly because the semi was rolling past us. "No, I didn't. I didn't think about your feelings at all, I thought you might think I was crazy or you might even be pissed, but I never thought you would be hurt by it. Please believe me." I was a little disconcerted at the way she was staring at me but I continued to look her in the eyes steadily. She seemed to make a decision and sighed before releasing my chin.
"It's okay, I understand. Thank you for apologizing."
"Will you come back inside then?"
"No, I don't think so."
I watched her drag a stick along a crack in the ground, disturbing several ant beds in the process.
"Next Sunday was going to be my last day anyway. I'll come in early tomorrow and talk to Stacy. I don't want to go back."
I think feeling like I'm subhuman was going to become a permanent thing. "Is it because of what I've done?"
She was staring at me again and I felt the need to disengage from the penetrating blue eyes. I felt like she might see all my faults and find me lacking.
"Partly," she answered honestly.
"There's nothing I can do to convince you of how sorry I am then?"
"I believe that you're sorry. It's just...." she continued to dig in the ground, the muscle of her bicep flexing rhythmically as she twisted and turned the stick as if she planned to make it fit into the thin crack. "I hate to be laughed at."
"I don't think anyone is going to laugh at you again, Riley." She continued to dig at the crack as if she didn't hear me I touched her shoulder and felt the solid muscle beneath my hand flex as she continued to drag the stick along the ground. I waited until our eyes met and then I stated firmly, "if they laugh at you I'll shoot them all."
She looked at me for a moment her eyes huge and child like. I couldn't help but grin at her so that she would know that I was kidding. The grin that I had seen on her face only when she was on the phone to her boyfriend broke forth causing me to catch my breath. Boy Riley, you're a real heartbreaker aren't you, I thought shakily.
I watched as her body shook silently. I'd never really seen anyone laugh without sound; I thought it was wonderful. I stood up and tentatively offered her my hand. She took it and I helped her up. We walked slowly back to the club neither of us saying anything. Stacy must have turned on the music after we left because the bass was so loud that it was making my heart adjust to its beat. At least I hoped it was the bass, I couldn't afford to think about a straight woman in that way. I had enough problems without dealing with my heart.
"Detective Everett?"
"Uh no, you can call me Foster." I turned to look up at her only to find her staring again. I turned away. Boy, I bet she has no idea how disconcerting that is. Damn, remember Foster, she's straight and probably thinks you're a bitch to boot.
"I don't like guns."
I looked up at her sharply. A joke? Shit that was a peace offering in my book. I had a wide grin on my face as I nodded my head confidently. "No worries, I'll just put them all in jail; lot less noise."
She did that cute silent laugh of hers and shook her head before opening the door for me. I made sure that I glared at each and every person that was in the room as I walked in. I wanted to let them know that any wisecracks would mean tangling with me. Stacy looked like she was going to come from behind the bar but I gave her the eye and she smiled apologetically before turning to serve a customer. I expelled the breath I didn't know I had been holding and turned to my tall friend.
"See, no one laughed."
She smiled. "No, I guess they didn't."
"I'm going to go talk to Stacy and settle my bill. You need anything?"
"Yes, water would be good."
"Okay, water it is."
I walked back to the bar and sat down. Now that my back was to the tall bouncer, I blew out a breath and closed my eyes. Damn, that was so stupid. I needed to get a handle on things. There was no way I should have let myself get goaded into that.
Stacy handed me back my gun and I slipped it on my belt.
"She alright?"
I nodded. "Yeah I think so, no thanks to me."
"Damn, I'm sorry about that, Foster, this is all my fault."
"No it isn't. It's mine. I should have known better."
"Well shit, Foster, everyone knows something's been going on with you. You been coming in here almost every night and closing down the place."
I frowned at that. I'm not sure I like the idea of everyone knowing there is something wrong with me. Never mind the fact that Riley knew, I thought that was sort of sweet, but everyone else could just stay out of my fucking business.
"You used to come in and barely nurse two beers the whole time and now look at you, drinking hard liquor and beer, which by the way is a hangover waiting to happen. I shouldn't have egged you on in the state you were in. I should apologize to Riley too."
I sighed and shook my head "Give her a minute, Stacy, she was really upset by my little prank. I think she just wants to forget about it and get back to normal." I jumped down from the stool and pulled a wad of bills from my pocket. "Can I get a bottled water and I want to close out my tab."
"Keep your money, it's on me remember?"
"No, I don't think so," I met her eyes steadily. "I want to pay."
Stacy seemed to understand where I was coming from because for once she didn't give me any guff as she brought me the water and rang up my tab. Shit, with tips and Riley's water it was a little over thirty bucks. I threw all of the money up on the bar and told her that Riley's water was free.
"No problem." We both smiled apologetically at each other and I walked back toward the front door. I remembered that I had Riley's comic in my back pocket so I pulled it out and handed it to her along with her water.
"Pretty heavy reading for a college graduate." She looked up sharply. I'm sure my smile faltered before she smiled herself. Damn, real smooth, Foster. You're just batting a thousand today.
"Sorry about folding it...I was running and I wasn't thinking."
"That's alright, it's a reprint so it isn't rare or anything." She looked down at the comic. "I know it's sort of odd but I never had them as a child." She shrugged.
"I don't think it's odd at all. I think it's kind of cute actually," I said before backing out the door.
We exchanged another embarrassed smile.
"Night, Riley." I said just before I turned my back and as the door swung shut to Secrets I heard her reply.
"Night...Foster."
© 12/2001 Gabrielle Goldsby