His face was frozen forever in an expression of pure ecstasy. The dry blood was stained almost pink around the collar of pale blue shirt, arms outstretched above the body in a christ-like pose.
“Well at least the poor bastard died doing what he loved.” Detective Grieves was shining a black light over the victim’s gray sweat shorts. There were semen stains all over the crotch and running down both of the victim’s legs. “Looks like it never even got out of his pants. I’ve never seen anything like it, have you Hardy?”
I took a mouthful of my coffee then moaned with disgust. American coffee tastes like an ashtray but a hard boiled detective can’t live without caffeine. “Pretty impressive work for a lot lizard.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean the guy lives in a van so obviously the girl who’s banging him isn’t gonna be classy.”
Grieves rolled his eyes at me. “Australians don’t know anything about status hierarchies. There’s a lot more going on here than just a guy who lives in a van Hardy. Try using your sense of smell?”
“All I smell is blood partner.”
“Have another sniff. It’s lavendar oil and vanilla scented candles. He’s got 300 dollar drapes between the front and back for christ’s sake. No dirty laundry, probably keeps it in storage. Are you picking up what I’m putting down Hardy?”
I shrugged. “He’s some kind of fancy hobo. A fag maybe?”
Grieves smacked his own forehead and shook his head in frustration. “No Hardy. The man is a seducer. A van life Cassanova. He finds women that are bored and tells them he’ll take them for a drive to see the sunset. Real smooth talker. Probably with a different broad every week. A predator.”
“Well, looks like someone beat this predator at his own game.” The victim was lying on a mattress in the back of the van with his arms stretched over his head. His wrists were tied to the seats with white silk ribbons. It looked like he’d been having the best sex of his life before he received 37 stab wounds to the chest and neck with what appeared to be an ice pick. But how do you have the best sex of your life with your pants still on?
The beat cop standing outside of the van called out to us. “He’s a writer. Goes by Mr Lavender if you can believe it. He writes those internet diary things. He’s very popular.”
Grieves looked irritated. “You mean blogging Johnson?”
“Yeah. Blogging. His blog says he was going to meet with another writer this weekend. A chick who writes about like kinky sex stuff.”
Grieves stopped still. He touched his face like he did when he was nervous. “What’s her name Johnson?”
“Leila something.”
“Tromell. It’s Leila Tromell.” Grieves spoke definitively. I’ve learned not to question him when he’s this sure. “Come on Hardy. Let’s play miss Tromell a visit. You can drive.”
We left the crime scene to forensics and took off briskly across the Walmart car park towards our unmarked Dodge Diplomat. I didn’t bother to ask Grieves what he knew. My partner was a determined man and it was best not to slow him down.
********************************************************************
The drive to Miss Tromell’s beach front property was long. Grieves stared off into space the entire time. I kept my curiosity to myself. Grieves knew a lot of women and chances were that the two were involved. I had to be prepared for things to get messy. A good cop has his partner’s back no matter what. Whatever the mess was, I was going to have to help Grieves clean it up.
Grieves knew the route to the cliff side mansion flawlessly. Every time he told me to take another turn he would look over at me like he was waiting for me to ask the question. I stayed focused on driving.
We pulled up in front of a beautiful clean white cement render house with a front balcony made of red cedar. As we approached the front door Grieves smirked at me. “Pretty nice place for a lot lizard, eh Hardy?” I shrugged, admitting defeat.
Grieves rang the door bell and a portly Mexican woman answered. We had our badges ready but she seemed to be expecting us. “Come in gentlemen! Miss Tromell has been waiting!”
“Did you tell her we were coming or something?” I whispered to Grieves. Grieves ignored the question. We stepped inside the house to an enormous open plan living room with a winding staircase to the left.
A female voice called from upstairs. “I will be down in a minute! Just changing into something nice!”
I gazed around the room. The only thing I noticed unusual was that there were bookshelves on every wall of the room. “That’s a lot of books!” I said.
“Thank you Hardy, very perceptive.” Grieves said. He looked restless, like a panther in a tiny cage at the zoo. A face touching panther.
I heard the sound of high heels clopping on timber stairs and Miss Tromell descended the staircase. She was a tall slim woman with dark hair tied back into a pony tail. She wore a tight little white dress and shook her hips from side to side as she walked. She stroked the rail of the staircase with a delicate feminine hand. When she reached the bottom, she stood before us with her hands on her hips, twisted to one side in the classic arrogant sexy woman pose.
To bypass whatever personal relationship my partner had with the woman I took the lead. “Miss Tromell, we have some questions about your lover Mr Lavendar.”
She chuckled. “My lover is he?” She started to strut past us towards the white leather sofa in the living room. She sat down with her legs crossed. She picked up a vape pen from the coffee table in front of her and took a puff. I recognised the smell as coconut cherry flavor.
“My apologies Miss Trommel. Tell me, how were the two of you acquainted?”
“We were fellow writers. Meeting to discuss a collaboration. That’s all. Oh and we were having sex.” I saw my partner wince a little when she said this. She pressed the vape back to her lips and held it for a good five seconds. She looked at me like she was a cat and I was a mouse. It was clear she was not intimidated. “So? How did he die?”
The hairs stood up on the back of my neck. “How did you…”
“You’re homicide. You wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t dead.”
I looked at detective Grieves. He was staring at Miss Tromell intently through his horn rimmed glasses. He didn’t even notice me. “He was stabbed to death in the back of his van last night, with his hands tied to the front seats. But you knew that didn’t you Miss Tromell?”
“You’ve been reading my blog.”
“What kind of a game are you playing Miss Tromell?”
“I would have to be pretty stupid to kill him exactly the way I wrote in my blog. I wrote that post three days ago. Somebody must have read it and tried to frame me.” She shot him a look of contempt and then turned her gaze towards me. “I didn’t catch your name detective?”
“JS Hardy.”
“That’s a nice accent you have there Detective Hardy. What brings you here? I thought it would be much nicer… down under.” As she said the last two words she uncrossed her legs to change which leg was on top. In that moment I got a quick glance at her vagina, soft and shaven. I became unnerved. Something inside me was awoken, primitive and “basic”. Miss Tromell took another puff from her vape. She looked proud of herself for breaking my resolve. “Would you like a line of Adderall Detective Hardy? Detective Grieves is having a break from drugs but we could have some fun.” This time her lips sucked on the end of the vape a little.
“No thanks m’am I’m on duty.”
“Cut the shit Leila.” Grieves snapped. “We have a homicide with a victim you were known associate of. You admit to having sex with him. And he was killed exactly the way you describe in a post from two days ago. Do you realise how bad this looks? They’re going to ask us why we didn’t bring you in.”
“So why don’t you arrest me then? Detective?” She looked up at the ceiling, feigning boredom.
“You know the answer to that Leila.”
“What are you talking about Grieves?” I piped up in protest.
They locked eyes in silence for a moment. You could have cut the tension in the room with a butter knife. Finally Grieves turned to me. “We can’t arrest her Hardy. She’s innocent.”
***************************************************************
“Do you mind telling me what the hell is going on?” I was swerving the black Dodge around the winding roads of the cliffs with the window down enjoying the coastal air.
“Leila Tromell is a gonzo writer. She writes about sexual encounters and sometimes murders. But it’s all fiction Hardy. She’s never even had sex. She’s a virgin.”
“OK. But that doesn’t mean she didn’t kill him. It looks like the victim jizzed his shorts without even getting any action.”
“No Hardy. It’s impossible.”
“Why?”
“Because she was with me last night.”
My mouth went agape with shock. “What the hell Grieves? What are you doing hanging out with some crazy broad who doesn’t wear underwear but doesn’t even fuck?”
“I’ve developed a paternal relationship with her.”
“Paternal relationship? Are you hearing yourself? You’re out of your mind!”
“I spent most of last night convincing her not to go and see Mr Lavendar. We had an argument. I left around midnight. The victim’s estimated time of death is 11pm.”
“You gotta be kidding me Grieves! What do you think “estimated” means? This broad killed Mr Lavendar! Its all there.”
“No Hardy. You don’t understand. She’s too smart to do something like this. Someone is framing her.”
“You are unbelievable Grieves! We all know you, you’re an animal you fuck anything that moves! And now you’re getting paternal? Over some writer broad who probably killed a guy?”
“She didn’t do it.” This time he spoke softly.
“Well, if the chief finds out about any of this you know who the next suspect is gonna be don’t you?”
He took a deep breath and nodded slowly. Then he shouted suddenly “I need some FUCKING ADDERALL!”
****************************************************************
“What are you looking at Stanton? You want to take a fucking picture or something?” I death stared at the goofy red haired detective as I passed him in the hallway. He had a shit eating grin on his face that seemed to be directed at Grieves who was beside me. I said it again, louder this time. “What are you looking at Stanton?” He turned and scurried off behind us. “Fuckin’ weirdo.” Grieves was still in his own world, but I knew we were about to walk into something.
We entered the open area of the station and the entire room erupted in laughter. Dozens of plain clothed officers stood at attention. They pointed their arms towards Grieves, stiff in a Nazi salute.
“What… the… fuck?” Grieves said. We stared in disbelief.
The chief of police came out of his office. He was exploding with rage. He was a huge powerful man with silver hair and a white pin striped shirt. “Get back to work you idiots or I’ll suspend every single one of you!” Then he looked at us. “Grieves! I want you in my office NOW! Hardy, you come too.”
“What’s going on?” I whispered to my partner.
“I have no idea.”
We entered the office with some of the cops behind us were still cheering and hollering, then the door closed shut to complete silence. The chief sat down. He stared at Grieves over his thick Joseph Stalin mustache.
Grieves was impatient. “What’s going on?”
The chief placed a slammed the photo down on the table. It was a picture of a young woman with the end of a penis in her mouth. She had a swastika drawn in permanent marker on her forehead. Everyone in the station knew the enormous pulsating vein from the locker room. The penis belonged to Grieves.
“One of these turned up in the mailbox of every single officer on the force this morning. Unmarked envelopes. They all know whose cock it is. And they all know who the girl is. Who is she Hardy?”
He caught me unaware. “Uh, that’s Leah Shekelstein chief. The daughter of mayor Schlomo Shekelstein.”
“Good to see you know what you’re looking at for once Hardy. And tell me, both of you, what do you think is going to happen to our funding if Schlomo Shekelstein finds out a detective from this station took a picture of his daughter giving him a blowjob with a god damned swastika drawn on her forehead?”
“I think that would be very bad sir.” I said.
“Chief, why are you bringing my partner into this? This is my fuck up.” Grieves said.
“Because he’s always covering for you Grieves. You think I don’t know about all the times you’ve lied about your partner going to whores on the clock Hardy? How am I supposed to believe you didn’t know about this too? You were probably in the room waiting to hand them tissues.”
“Hardy didn’t know Chief.”
The Chief leaned back in his chair. He lit a cigar. “I’m suspending you without pay Grieves. Giving you some time to think about whats important to you. When you come back I want you to keep your dick in your pants for once and focus on your god damned job. We need good detectives like you.” He exhaled a cloud of smoke and it permeated the air. “As for you Hardy, you’re not such a sharp detective. Maybe it’s too many hits to the head from playing rugby or whatever you Australians do. I put you with Grieves to keep him out of trouble, how would you say that’s going? Mate?”
I was getting mad. But there was no point in saying anything but what Chief wanted to hear. “It’s not going all that well sir. Considering.”
“You’re god damned right it’s not going well Hardy!” His face was turning red with veins popping out on the sides of his temple. “So I’ll tell you what Hardy. Now is your chance to shine kid, come out from your partner’s shadow. Show me what you can really do.” He took a puff of his cigar. “Prove to me you’re not retarded Hardy. Find out who killed Mr Lavendar.”
************************************************************
I spent the rest of the day helping Grieves clean out his desk. That evening we went down to the local bar to get some whiskys. I’d never seen him so gloomy.
“We need to find out who sent the photos. Did anyone have them besides you and Leah Shekelstein?” He stared into his glass. “Grieves?”
When he finally looked up at me he looked defeated. “I gave them to Leila.”
“What?”
“Before I knew she was a virgin. I was trying to impress her so I gave her the photos of me with Leah Shekelstein.”
I stood up and banged my fist on the counter. It actually kind of hurt but I didn’t let it show. “God damn it Grieves! You’re out of control.” I took my coat and made my way to the exit. “Enjoy your time off partner. You seem like you need it. I’ve got detective work to do.”
I started to drive towards Miss Tromell’s place. Alone. Grieves had insisted Miss Tromell was innocent. But now it seemed like she had pulled a stunt to get him suspended. Even if she was innocent, she was the only person who might know who was framing her. And I wanted to know what was going on between her and Grieves. I tried not to let my mind go there but ultimately I knew: if it wasn’t Miss Tromell who killed Mr Lavender, it was probably Grieves.
When I arrived at the front, the Mexican maid called me by name. It was odd and uncomfortable. When I entered I found Miss Tromell sitting at the same couch she had been at the previous day. She was barefoot and typing furiously on her laptop.
“We meet again detective Hardy.” She didn’t even look up. “Was there something here you wanted another look at?” She punctuated the last remark with a quick wink and then looked back down at her computer.
I ignored the insinuation. “Did you send the picture of Grieves with Leah Shekelstein to every cop in the station?”
She looked up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about detective. First you accuse me of murdering my friend and now you come with these other strange accusations. I barely know your partner, detective. His obsession with me is unsettling. And it appears it might be contagious as well.”
“Miss Tromell, if you didn’t kill Mr Lavender then somebody wants us to think you did. Doesn’t that bother you.”
“Ah. Well, if this going to be a long conversation, perhaps you’d like a drink detective?” She got to her feet and made her way towards the kitchen. “I make a mean Manhattan. Perfect for an aging man like yourself.”
I ignored the insult. “Sure. I’ll have it on the rocks.”
When she got to the kitchen she took a massive solid block of ice out of the freezer and began crushing it. With an ice pick. She smiled an evil smile at me while she did so.
“Why don’t you use ice cubes?”
“I like the sharp edges detective.”
She went to the pantry and begun to get ingredients. I decided now was my chance to creep over and get a peak of the computer. I read the sentence:
He was a broad shouldered Australian man with an awful blond receding hairline. I found him repulsive but somehow strangely intriguing.
I heard her coming back and quickly resumed my previous position, standing across from the couch.
“You can sit down detective.”
It was a corner lounge so I chose to sit right past the other corner so that she would have to dive over the coffee table if she wanted to come at me with an ice pick. Couldn’t be too careful.
I took a sip of the Manhattan. It was surprisingly good. “Miss Tromell, is there anyone that you think would have a vendetta against you? And maybe Mr Lavender as well?”
“Hmmm, well. Your partner did beg me not to sleep with him when he was here the other night. He got quite upset.” She had her pale, bare feet up on the coffee table and she twinkled her toes a little. “Are all hard boiled detectives obsessed with feet or is it just Mr Grieves?”
“I can’t say I share that interest with my partner Miss Tromell. Why did he beg you not to sleep with Mr Lavender?”
“Because he didn’t want me to lose my precious virginity to him. He said he wasn’t the right guy and that I would regret it. But I just think he was jealous.”
“What time did he leave here?”
“10pm.”
“10pm? Are you sure?”
“I checked my security footage.”
No. No way. It couldn’t be. I swallowed the rest of the manhattan in one gulp and sunk back into the seat. It couldn’t be true.
I heard a sniffle and out of nowhere. Leila Tromell burst into tears. The icy femme fatal aura she’d had a moment ago melted away and she became a wailing mess. In that moment and against my best judgement, I got up and went to her side to comfort her.
“Hardy please! Don’t take him away from me! I loved them both! And now Mr Lavender is gone! I can’t live without Mr Grieves, Hardy, I need him! Nobody cares about me like he does!” Her head was buried in my chest and her tears were making my shirt soaking wet.
“Um, I guess um, I won’t…”
“I feel so alone in this place. I have 10, 000 fans but no one really knows me! Detective Grieves is the only person who cares about me enough to k…” She stopped herself. Then abruptly she sat up and wiped her face with a tissue. Besides the red eyes she was back to her old self, like switching off a light switch. “I’m sorry detective. I don’t know what came over me.”
“It’s fine really.”
“You better go. I have a blog post to write. I hope you won’t be a stranger.”
I didn’t have the answers I wanted. But the moment of vulnerability really touched me. I wanted nothing but to give the poor little thing whatever she needed to feel safe. She was so precious.
As I made my way towards the door, I remembered I had one more question.
“Hey Leila?”
“Yes detective.” Her voice was cold and confident again. Almost robotic.
“Why do you write about sex all the time if you’re a virgin?”
“When you’re a virgin, everything is about sex detective.”
******************************************************
“You are the last person I ever expected to hear this from Hardy.” The ember on the Chief’s cigar glowed bright red.
“It’s on her security camera. He left at 10 pm. He was carrying a dress of hers. She said she gave it to him to jerk off in. I don’t judge Grieves, that’s the kind of things he’s into.”
“10 pm is plenty of time to get to the Walmart car park. And Mr Lavender thought Layla was coming.”
“Yes.”
“How do you think he got him to cum in his pants?”
“To be honest Chief, I don’t even want to know. The whole thing gives me the creeps.”
The Chief took a puff of his cigar. “Excellent police work. But I just have one more question?”
“Yes sir, go ahead and ask.”
“How can you be sure Miss Tromell didn’t orchestrate the entire thing to frame Grieves?”
“I considered it sir, I really did. But I remembered that there was one very important thing that we’d all forgotten this entire time because we were so focused on the details of the case.”
“And what’s that detective?”
“Leila Tromell can’t be the killer because women don’t have agency.”
The Chief’s eyebrows rose and he a deep draw of his cigar and said “God damn it Hardy you’re right! They don’t!”
hahahahahaha I am fucking dying, blow this up into a book and self-pub it
top shelf, 10/10 lmao