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A quick change of pace from what I've been writing up to date. No claims to quality, I knocked this out between phone calls. :)
*****
“I hate coincidences.”
Gordie Cavanaugh looked up from where he was squatting on his heels on the floor. He pulled at the fingertips of his rubber gloves without taking them off, a nervous habit he wasn’t quite sure when he’d acquired. He looked at his partner, knowing Leo was expecting him to respond dutifully, as he always did. One day, he thought, I won’t have to play the role of partner-who’s-still-wet-behind-the-ears. One day. They’d already been partners for a year and a half now. He sighed quietly.
“What’s that, Leo?”
“I said I hate coincidences.”
Leo scowled at the body, lying broken and bloody on the green carpet. It was a hideous colour, Gordie thought, and wondered why any self-respecting hotel would choose it to cover its floors from wall to wall. Maybe that was the problem: this wasn’t a self-respecting hotel. It was just a place where whores brought their johns for an hour or two, and then turned themselves back out into the anonymous night.
“What’s wrong with coincidences?” Gordie asked, as was expected of him.
“They don’t exist, that’s what’s wrong with them,” Leo said authoritatively.
Leo was one of the oldest cops on the squad still on active duty, a fifty-seven year old man with a slight paunch and a predilection for cigars, complete with white hair and suits that were just shy of being cheap. A stereotype if Gordie had ever heard of one before, but he was good at his job. Didn’t have the attitude of some of the older cops that new techniques were time-consuming and unreliable, no. He kept up with the times, made sure he was up to speed on everything. Knew a damned sight more than most any other officer out there. Of course, being partnered with him was a pain in the ass as a result.
Gordie pursed his lips, then rose to his feet. “So, what then? You think this poor hooker’s bought it for a reason other than her latest john got a little too rough?” He suspected Leo was right, though.
“What do you think?”
Gordie was surprised. Leo didn’t usually ask for his opinion, even sarcastically.
“I think you’re right. It’s too convenient that four days after we pull this girl in for questioning, suddenly she turns a trick that goes bad. We know her MO, we know she’s usually pretty careful about not picking johns that are high or want it rough. Doesn’t always work, but it’s kept her alive. Also, she works better joints than this. This place doesn’t fit what we know.”
“Okay, what else you got?”
Gordie got the uncomfortable feeling he was being tested. He pointed to the carpet. “So she gets her skull split open, right? Supposedly against this radiator here. So where’s all the blood? There should be buckets of it everywhere, with a wound like that. It probably took a few minutes for her heart to stop, so that means lots of blood. So I’m thinking she was killed somewhere else, then dumped here. Or else they did her in the bathroom and then cleaned up, but that makes no sense. Why not just leave her in there for us to find?”
Leo nodded, padding around the room in his thick-soled shoes, poking through the small bureau in the corner, feeling under the mattress with both hands. “Definitely feels like a plant. They took all her money and her ID to make it look like the guy stole from her, but that doesn’t fit with a john going too far. So we have overkill: whoever did this gave us too many reasons for her to be dead, and none of them are the real reason.” He picked up the girl’s purse, a small pink thing with too many rhinestones, and began rifling through it.
“And why dump her here? There are any number of places she went to regularly where they could have framed this. Is it because it was close to where they offed her? Or was there some sort of message? I mean, this place probably isn’t called the ‘Last Resort’ for nothing.”
Leo gave him an odd look, then pulled a piece of paper from the purse. On one side there was a phone number and a name, and on the other was three-quarters of an ad for the Last Resort Motel. Leo chuckled.
“Maybe it was just a coincidence.”
“I hate coincidences.”
Gordie Cavanaugh looked up from where he was squatting on his heels on the floor. He pulled at the fingertips of his rubber gloves without taking them off, a nervous habit he wasn’t quite sure when he’d acquired. He looked at his partner, knowing Leo was expecting him to respond dutifully, as he always did. One day, he thought, I won’t have to play the role of partner-who’s-still-wet-behind-the-ears. One day. They’d already been partners for a year and a half now. He sighed quietly.
“What’s that, Leo?”
“I said I hate coincidences.”
Leo scowled at the body, lying broken and bloody on the green carpet. It was a hideous colour, Gordie thought, and wondered why any self-respecting hotel would choose it to cover its floors from wall to wall. Maybe that was the problem: this wasn’t a self-respecting hotel. It was just a place where whores brought their johns for an hour or two, and then turned themselves back out into the anonymous night.
“What’s wrong with coincidences?” Gordie asked, as was expected of him.
“They don’t exist, that’s what’s wrong with them,” Leo said authoritatively.
Leo was one of the oldest cops on the squad still on active duty, a fifty-seven year old man with a slight paunch and a predilection for cigars, complete with white hair and suits that were just shy of being cheap. A stereotype if Gordie had ever heard of one before, but he was good at his job. Didn’t have the attitude of some of the older cops that new techniques were time-consuming and unreliable, no. He kept up with the times, made sure he was up to speed on everything. Knew a damned sight more than most any other officer out there. Of course, being partnered with him was a pain in the ass as a result.
Gordie pursed his lips, then rose to his feet. “So, what then? You think this poor hooker’s bought it for a reason other than her latest john got a little too rough?” He suspected Leo was right, though.
“What do you think?”
Gordie was surprised. Leo didn’t usually ask for his opinion, even sarcastically.
“I think you’re right. It’s too convenient that four days after we pull this girl in for questioning, suddenly she turns a trick that goes bad. We know her MO, we know she’s usually pretty careful about not picking johns that are high or want it rough. Doesn’t always work, but it’s kept her alive. Also, she works better joints than this. This place doesn’t fit what we know.”
“Okay, what else you got?”
Gordie got the uncomfortable feeling he was being tested. He pointed to the carpet. “So she gets her skull split open, right? Supposedly against this radiator here. So where’s all the blood? There should be buckets of it everywhere, with a wound like that. It probably took a few minutes for her heart to stop, so that means lots of blood. So I’m thinking she was killed somewhere else, then dumped here. Or else they did her in the bathroom and then cleaned up, but that makes no sense. Why not just leave her in there for us to find?”
Leo nodded, padding around the room in his thick-soled shoes, poking through the small bureau in the corner, feeling under the mattress with both hands. “Definitely feels like a plant. They took all her money and her ID to make it look like the guy stole from her, but that doesn’t fit with a john going too far. So we have overkill: whoever did this gave us too many reasons for her to be dead, and none of them are the real reason.” He picked up the girl’s purse, a small pink thing with too many rhinestones, and began rifling through it.
“And why dump her here? There are any number of places she went to regularly where they could have framed this. Is it because it was close to where they offed her? Or was there some sort of message? I mean, this place probably isn’t called the ‘Last Resort’ for nothing.”
Leo gave him an odd look, then pulled a piece of paper from the purse. On one side there was a phone number and a name, and on the other was three-quarters of an ad for the Last Resort Motel. Leo chuckled.
“Maybe it was just a coincidence.”
