Contributor: Gary Clifton

- -
She was female and appeared young, burn damage too severe to really tell. "Tied to that bed, McCoy," the Medical Examiner bent over the carnage. "The autopsy will tell more."
"They's been a man comin' up there nights...when her roommate is away at work," the apartment manager worked on a tall boy and a menthol filter tip at 3:00 A.M.
"Tonight?" McCoy asked. It was his turn in the barrel for Homicide deep night call-outs. He'd handle the preliminaries and begin the follow up on Monday - so he thought.
"Dunno...could be...just dunno." she exhaled smoke.
The victim's name was Lynn and she had a lover, Charlie, a bouncer at an all night, b.y.o.b. lesbian club on Fitzhugh. McCoy figured Charlie was working when her roommate had been murdered by the man the manager had mentioned, so he delivered the tragic news alone. Then he'd crawl back in bed.
The alleyway was pitch black. McCoy was used to dark alleys. Charlie, a dumpy little number in black Doc Marten's, had a silver chain hanging from her belt. Flash of a badge and a quick word normally would have salved the way to a very sad meeting. Instead, Charlie clipped his chin with an overhand right. "Gonna kick your ass, sumbitch," she spat. When she yanked on her belt chain, out came a mace.
He grabbed Charlie's shirt and tossed her headfirst onto the sidewalk, then quick-stepped down and kicked her in the ribs. Yeah, the book said don't slap women around, but this was a little different.
A second bouncer landed on McCoy's back, grappling for a choke hold. He slid away and Charlie's helper landed hard on the pavement. Four more appeared in the doorway. Time to give a little ground...consider pulling a pistol.
Then, behind him, three more figures blocked the street. One was African American and big. Two and three were smaller, white and waved those metal flashlight-clubs. "What the hell's goin' on?" the African American stepped forward.
"Just conferring with Charlie here," McCoy waved his badge.
The African American turned to the doorway. "Police business, ladies, everybody back inside!" Distant streetlight twinkled off the badge on his chest.
"Why no call for backup?" one officer asked.
"Good question." McCoy pulled handcuffs. "I came with tragic news, but I'm afraid Charlie just shot off her foot. Charlie, you're under arrest...murder. Dunno why the hell you didn't just disappear."
" little Lynn was cheating...with a man, for Christ's sake. She said she'd love me forever," Charlie sobbed on the sidewalk.
"You still coulda just split," McCoy shook his head. His mind morphed to notifying next of kin. Suddenly he felt very old and bone tired. No sleep tonight.

- - -
Gary Clifton, forty years a cop, published a novel in national paperback and has published or has pending articles in several online magazine sites
Read more »
These icons link to social bookmarking sites where readers can share and discover new web pages.
  • Digg
  • Sphinn
  • Facebook
  • Mixx
  • Google
  • Furl
  • Reddit
  • Spurl
  • StumbleUpon
  • Technorati

Help keep Linguistic Erosion alive! Visit our sponsors! :)- - -