Death by Sarcasm

Sixteen

LAPD’s finest arrived and Mary surrendered her weapon and submitted to a search. They put her in the back of a squad car while the patrol cops wandered around, waiting for the detectives and crime scene technicians to show up.

Mary sniffed. The car smelled vaguely of vomit. Maybe it was the cop’s cologne. Eau de regurgitation.

Probably some drunk on his way to the tank must have tossed his Chips Ahoys back here. The patrol cops were in charge of cleaning their own vehicles if something like that happened, Mary knew. This had obviously been cleaned by a man. Most guys she knew, the only way they could clean something is if it was with a Swiffer.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the flash of some fish-belly white skin. Mary turned just as Jake and the Shark got out of their detective’s car.

“Fun has officially arrived,” Mary said under her breath. She looked at the Shark and the way she assumed instant command of the scene. But God she was pale. The ME guys might mistakes her for the corpse.

Mary shivered. It wasn’t the first time she had killed someone. But it wasn’t easy. She forced it from her mind, but suddenly a chill would shoot down her spine and her stomach would do flip flops.

A couple of the uniforms were talking to the pair of detectives, gesturing and pointing with their hands and occasionally looking over at the patrol car.

“Yeah, hi,” Mary said, watching the Shark. “Go to hell, uh-huh, hello,” she said. Mary felt off-kilter. She’d just shot and killed an old man, for God’s sake. The adrenaline had worn off and now she just felt tired and cranky. She pictured her bed back in her apartment. She wanted to curl up inside the warm blankets and not come out for a few months.

Mary saw the tall, pale woman nod toward the car and immediately one of the patrol cops turned and walked toward her. Jake shot her a look as if to say, “There’s nothing I can do right now.”

“Yes, your hands are tied. I totally understand,” Mary said under her breath again, just as the patrol cop opened up the driver’s door and got behind the wheel.

“Did someone puke in here or is your gym bag in the trunk?” Mary said.

The cop put the car in gear and ignored her. They drove away from the scene and Mary instantly felt a touch better.

“I mean, jeez, it smells like a French whore with a purse full of gorgonzola,” she said.

The cop looked over his shoulder at her. “I’m taking you downtown,” he said.

“Downtown? Oh, that’s lovely. We can do some shopping…go get a pedicure--”

“Ma’am, I hope you realize how serious this is.”

When they pulled up at a stoplight, he looked up at the rearview mirror. Mary saw that he was a young guy. Probably the lowest ranking of everyone at the scene. He looked a little green around the gills. Maybe he’d never seen a dead person before. He’d probably looked at both the big guy and the old man. Neither one of them looked very good.

Mary had seen more than her fair share. She should probably be more sensitive to the poor kid.

“Serious,” Mary said. “Yes. Very serious. So how do you like Lieutenant Davies? Does she remind of you Aunt Bea from the Andy Griffith Show?”

“Aunt Bea? The what show?” the cop said.

Oooh. Age gap. Shit, she had to stop doing that. Stop referencing shows that were on when these young guys were in their goddamn diapers. The young cop guided the patrol car smoothly on to the I-10 freeway.

“Never mind,” Mary said, once they’d settled into a lane. “Lieutenant Davies. What do you think of her? Do you know she’s actually made of wax?”

“How do you know her?” he said.

“Hey, just answer the question.”

He looked at her in the rearview mirror. Couldn’t decide whether to be offended at her tone, or to answer. He chose to answer.

“She’s…good,” he said.

“That’s what I call a ringing endorsement.”

“Well, I mean. You know, smart. Efficient.”

“Now you’re gushing.”

“She—”

“Do you think she’s hot?”

“Ma’am, I’d rather not…I’m driving. And you’re involved in a double homicide. I don’t think I should be talking to you about our detectives.”

Mary nodded to him in the rearview mirror.

“Is she still f*cking that Cornell guy?”

“Okay,” the young cop said. “That’s it. I’m going to stop talking now.”

“Just tell me the office scuttlebutt. Are they still a couple?”

He looked in the mirror again at her, as he took the exit for downtown proper.

“That’s the rumor,” he said.

Mary laid her head back on the seat and watched L.A. fly past her window.

You never knew with rumors. Jake had said it was a one-night stand. Well, if it was more than that, good for Jake. Might help him get promoted faster. They made a nice couple.

A nice couple.

Kind of like Satan and Judas.

The cop allowed her to go to the bathroom, then brought her a cup of coffee in an actual coffee cup. The cup read “Death Valley National Park.” Nice.

“Thanks,” Mary said. She took a sip. It was awful. “Mmmm, Mountain Grown.”

They left her alone for an hour. F*cking Jake. How could he leave her in here this long, knowing she’d just killed someone? The depths of his treachery were deepening every day. He was probably picking up the Shark’s dry cleaning, trying to improve the scores on his performance review at the end of the year.

Or else they were just killing time to make her more willing to talk. Bastards.

After another fifteen minutes of waiting, the door opened and Jake walked in. He looked tired and frazzled. Mary had no sympathy for him.

“All done debriefing your boss?” Mary said.

Jake stopped. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Mary put a finger to her chin. “Hmm. What could that mean? What could the subtext possibly be?”

He let out a heavy sigh and dropped a file folder on the desk. “This isn’t the time,” Jake said.

“That’s what you said last time,” Mary said. “She’s really got you under control – did she put a dog collar on you and call you dirty names-”

“Mary,” he said through gritted teeth. “You’re not doing yourself any good.” Jake’s eyes snaked over toward the mirror.

“I know she’s listening,” Mary said. “Probably watching your tough guy interrogation tactics and touching herself every time you-”

“Cut the shit and tell me what happened.”

Mary raised an eyebrow at his flaring temper.

“Oooh,” she said. “I think you just made her moan.”

Jake grinded his jaws together. “What. Happened.”

Mary sighed. “Okay. I actually do have a confession to make. Are you sure I shouldn’t have my lawyer here?”

“Come on, Mary,” he said, his voice softer and his body relaxing. “It’s me.”

“Okay,” Mary said, nodding as if she’d reached a decision. “My confession. Here it is.”

She let the pause hang for a moment.

“I’m a chubby chaser. I like fat guys.”

Jake’s eyes went half-mast.

“That fat guy I was with?” she said. “I planned to take his roly poly ass home and screw his brains out. There’s nothing I like more than grabbing a couple handfuls of Dubuque ham-”

The door banged open and the Shark walked in.

“Jake, I’ll take over.”

“Ooh,” Mary said. “I think you’ve just been bitch-slapped Jake. Jump to it, little lady.”

“Shut up,” Davies said.

Mary rolled her eyes. “Potty mouth,” she said.

“Jake,” the Shark said. “Out.”

Jake turned and headed for the door.

“I bet he likes it when you boss him around, doesn’t he?” Mary said. “I can tell you’re the Alpha Male in the relationship, that’s for sure. Does he have food bowls with his name on them?”

The door slammed shut and the sound reverberated in the small room. Davies said nothing. She just looked at Mary, gathering herself. Mary looked back at her. One eyebrow raised.

“What’s the problem?” Mary said. “I really do like fat guys.” The Shark nodded. “How about we help each other out?” she said.

“You mean…cooperate?”

“You give us some information, we’ll give you some information.”

“That sounds very Democratic,” Mary said. “Very American.”

“So tell me something. Anything. As long as it’s not about your fetish for the big boys.”

Mary nodded. “That makes sense. Perfect sense. Okay, here’s what I know-”

The door burst open and slammed against the opposite wall.

“That’s enough!” Whitney Braggs said as he walked into the room accompanied by a tall, regal woman with a pinched face and frizzy hair.

“I am Joan Hessburg,” the woman said. She handed a card to Davies. “I am an attorney and Mary Cooper is my client,” the woman said. “Are you charging her with a crime, Detective?”

The Shark looked like a pile of horse manure had just been dropped at her feet.

“The cavalry led by Bob Barker,” Mary said. “I love it!”

“Motherf*ckers kept us waiting for a half hour,” Braggs said, glaring at Davies.

Mary shook her head. The guy looked like a walking advertisement for Nautica but beat people up and had the mouth of a Navy construction worker. If it weren’t for his racial epitaphs, she could actually like him.

“Let’s go, Miss Cooper,” her new attorney said. She gave the Shark her card. “Contact me if you wish to further question my client.”

The Shark took the card and threw it on the floor, then headed for the door.

“Take her and get out,” the Shark said. “Good riddance.”

Mary called out to her, “Cute blouse!”

She turned to Braggs and her new attorney.

“You got here just in time,” Mary said. She nodded toward the departing Davies. “She was going to do a full cavity search on me. But here’s the awful part, she said she was going to have me do one on her afterward.”

Mary shook her head, and looked toward the mirror. “Sicko.”