| "Let it Snow" | ||
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June 12, 2008 5 PM Forward I can't say I'm nervous. I don't want to say I'm nervous, but I am a little bit. She's just so fucking beautiful, you don't understand, she's like...an angel or something. I don't know, I guess I'm just surprised as to why she said yes when there's plenty of other younger, better looking, blue boys running around this precinct. God, I hope she doesn't feel sorry for me. I flip another page over in the file I'm reading. It's about the eighth time I'm reading it and I'm pretty fucking sure I'm going to read it another eight times before this case is closed. But I kind of feel like I'm missing something. I don't always get this sort of feeling working a case, especially one that should have been buried 36 days ago, but who's counting. Maybe it's just my guy and the fact I can't ID him. The fact that I can't get a single fucking fingerprint from this guy is really getting to me. It's been over two weeks since I've been tailing him...and just...nothing. It's disturbing. Shit, it's almost a little creepy. I'm starting to think I should talk to one of his girlfriends or whatever they are. He seems to keep two but I can't tell which one he's exclusive with, if any. That doesn't really matter because the girls are more elusive than he is. At least he's pretty visible. I flip over another paper and now I'm at the pictures. I smile every time I see them. Even I can appreciate a good hit when I see it. This one wasn't the best, but certainly it was a ballsy move, and ballsy moves always get a smile from me. What? 'What?' I voice my thought out loud as I register someone is actually calling my name. It's her. She has this sparkle of mischief in her eyes that takes my breath a little bit. 'I said nice pictures,' and she gestures to the pictures in the file in my hands. 'Oh,' I say shutting the folder, a nice girl like this doesn't want to see some dude's brains leaking out all over the place. 'Yeah. Believe it or not,' I smile up at her, 'this guy deserved it.' 'They usually do,' she nodded her head as her blonde hair moved in response. 'Is red okay with dinner?' 'Red?' 'Wine,' she giggled a little, so softly that I almost missed it. God, that's fucking sexy. 'Wine, yeah,' I chuckle, 'that's fine though I won't be drinking as I have...this case...you know...' 'Yeah,' she rolled her eyes playfully, 'as long as you don't mind me having a glass. This place stresses me out.' 'Of course I don't, no, that's fine. Around 7 you said, right?' 'Seven's great,' she smiled. 'Don't work too hard,' she grinned mischievously, 'all work and no play makes Johnny a dull boy.' She had to lean on my desk to say that, didn't she? You know, women really no how to play with men, don't they? I can hardly breathe right now as I have to use every ounce of energy to focus on her face and not look down her shirt. Somehow, and I'm not at all sure how I managed it, but I get a smirk on my face. Look at her eyes, look at her eyes, I tell myself. 'Name's Nick,' I say. She grins raising her eyebrows. 'Lucky me, then,' she purrs. And when I say purr - I mean purr. I am so turned on right now I could grab her and fuck her right into the desk! But I don't. Because this is work after all and fucking a fellow officer into a desk, before shift change, and the captain in? Probably not such a good idea. She winks at me then pulls herself up and walks away. Saunters really. Is there a word that describes that swinging, slow, deliberate, look at my ass and want it walk? My god, her ass. That might be the most fuckable ass I've ever laid eyes on. The ringing phone startles me as I take a mental snapshot of her ass one last time before picking it up. 'Tarnes,' I say with a small smile on my face. I knew she was a Goer, I fucking knew it! 'Nick, we got your autopsy tox results in. Want me to send them up?' 'Great, Tom, thanks. I'll uh, I'll come down and pick them up, I could use the walk.' 'Suit yourself, I'll be here until about 6 then I'm outta here.' 'I'm coming right now,' I say and hang up the phone. I straighten the file out and get up thankful for the break. I jog down the stairs, I hate taking the elevator, to the morgue and pop open the door. Tom's there, hovering over a dead body and humming...what is that song? 'Hey Tom,' I say softly so he doesn't throw a body part or something at me. Last time I startled him I ended up with a piece of lung on my tie. That tie, needless to say, has been burned, thank you very much. Now I make sure I don't startle Tom when he's cutting. 'Hey, there Nick, how's it going?' Tom smiles up from behind a mask and face shield. 'Not too bad. Work is work. Yourself?' 'It's been really quiet actually. I hear people are dying to get in here.' Then he laughs. This is one thing about Tom you really ought to know, he's always making dead people jokes. Maybe it's how he copes with hanging around dead bodies 50 hours a week. He's a nice enough fellow but the weirdness factor weighs in heavy on his personality. 'That's pretty good,' I say laughing, somewhat to humor him, mostly to avoid getting some body tissue thrown at me. 'Danny-boy's got your tox report. Guy was high as a kite,' he whistles as he says this. 'High, you're kidding me?' I say sarcastically. 'But still,' Tom says looking at me again over the mask and face shield, 'the cause of death is gun shot wound.' 'That would be because of the large gaping hole in the back of his skull,' I say pretending to be serious. 'Ah ha!' he says triumphantly as he raises one of his hands. I can see a small scrap of...something...fly off the scalpel as he does this and my stomach turns a little bit. 'I don't care what anyone says - you are indeed an intelligent detective. Kind of an oxymoron, you know? Intelligent...detective?' He lets out another hearty laugh. Boy, Tom's a funny guy. I smirk at the dig waiting for Oh-Danny-Boy to get me my fucking tox report. 'Cocaine,' Tom waves the scalpel again, 'is something you can get off of. Clean yourself up, whatever. You got a chance snorting the blow. But big fucking gunshots wounds to the head?' He shakes his head disgustingly, 'no chance of surviving that my friend.' The most interesting thing is not what he says but how he says it. I know he's kidding with me but he says it with such seriousness that somewhere in the back of mind I'm wondering if he really is serious and somehow I'm missing a point somewhere. 'At least he went out with a bang, pun intended,' and I snicker at my own joke. But where was that girl? Probably just a little slut, just his little fuck toy for the night, that got caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Unless, she did it. Then she'd have to be pretty fucking bendy to get that off. And if that was true - I definitely want to meet this chick. 'Danny-boy', Tom suddenly shouted still grinning at my joke. Danny-boy, Daniel, hated to be called Danny-boy. So, of course, we did. He's new, just got hired out of school. He's a body cutter but he insists on calling himself a pathologist. Bad move body cutter boy. As soon as he corrected someone they shot back with Danny-boy and good old Danny-boy had gotten pissed. Another bad move. Now that's his name and most likely will be until he transfers or dies, whichever comes first. Danny-boy appeared from the back room and shot Tom a look, to which Tom snickered at, and approached me. 'Cause of death is still single gunshot wound to the head. We did, however, find high traces of cocaine, alcohol, and marijuana in his blood and hair.' 'Thanks, Danny-boy,' I smirk at him, 'thorough as usual.' Danny-boy just yawned and walked away. He didn't enjoy his job though one day he might, when he did a little growing up and learned not to sweat the small stuff. 'Don't stand too much longer,' I said to Tom, raising the folder, 'I wouldn't want you to get stiff.' Tom looks at me for a moment as he processes what I said, then he lets out a very loud boisterous laugh. I grin in response and thank him for the file. He shoos me away with the waving scalpel again and I retreat out of the lab and into the hall where I can still hear him laughing. I thumb through the report quickly. Cocaine. It so doesn't surprise me. 'Christmas in July,' I mutter as I snap the file closed and start heading upstairs to my office. Return |
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