Death by Sarcasm

Twenty-nine

Mary stood in the silent room. It stunk of blood and gunpowder. She wondered what a nice girl like her was doing in yet another crime scene.

She looked over at Kenum sprawled out in an ever-widening pool of blood.

“Get up,” she said. “Faker.”

He didn’t respond. She went over and searched his pockets. Nothing.

“I thought they toughened up guys like you in prison,” she said. She looked around Kenum’s apartment.

“I hate to break it to you,” she said. “But I don’t think you’ll be getting your security deposit back.”

Mary went and put her clothes on. Her legs were quivering, and she felt a little lightheaded. The adrenaline was wearing off and leaving shaken nerves in its place.

As she pulled her panties on, she thought to herself, ‘geez, if I’d’ve known this was going to happen I would have worn something a little more…provocative.’

Maybe it was because she was still stunned by the sight of a man being gunned down in front of her, and maybe it was the fact that she’d had five senior citizens’ erections pointing at her and rubbing up against her, but it seemed like only a few seconds before she heard her name being called.

“Mary,” the voice said.

“Mary.”

She looked up, and saw Detective Jacob Cornell.

“Mary, what happened?” he said.

“I threw a party and it got a little outta hand,” she said.

“Are you okay?” he said, crossing to her, unsure whether or not he should put his arms around her. She wished he would. She really, really wanted to be in his arms.

“I don’t know, orgies always leave me feeling a little…sleazy,” she said.

Jake put his arm on her shoulder. She moved a little bit closer toward him. Mary felt Jake’s body heat, and her shivering subsided.

“It’s okay to need someone, Mary,” he said. “Even if it’s me.”

Her body relaxed and she opened her mouth to say something like she needed him as much as she needed a trip to the Nixon library.

But she didn’t. She slipped her around him and pulled him closer.

The ambulance team arrived and raced past them.

“Let’s get out of here,” Jake said. They crossed the room together and were just about to the door when Sergeant Amanda Davies appeared.

“Ah, Cooper,” she said. “Always seem to find you in such pleasant circumstances.”

Mary felt the woman’s eyes notice how close she and Jake were standing.

“I thought I was attending a baz mitzvah,” Mary said. “I knew there was going to be blood, but come on, this is ridiculous.”

“They don’t do circumcisions at baz mitzvahs, Mary,” Jake said. “That’s called a Bris.”

“Yeah, okay,” Mary said. “Thanks for the Jewish education there, Yentl.”

Mary looked at Jake, then she shot her eyes at Davies. “See Jake, I told you it was a party, somebody ordered a hooker.” She nodded her head toward Davies.

Davies ignored her and said, “Let’s take this out into the hallway, unless you want to do this downtown.”

“You know, it doesn’t really matter where we go,” Mary said to Davies. “As long as I’m with you, I’m happy.”

Once the paramedics had checked out Mary, and the crime scene techies had arrived, the questioning began.

“So Mary,” Jake said. “Why don’t you just start at the beginning?”

“Because I don’t want to?” Mary said.

Jake just watched her, his face committing nothing.

Mary sighed and explained how she had come to be at Kenum’s apartment, leaving out the Catalina side trip, and the little kid with all the information. Just enough to satisfy them, not enough to actually tell them anything.

“So you want me to believe,” Davies said. “That there was an attempted gang rape of you by a bunch of old men wearing Richard Nixon masks?”

“What’s the problem?” Mary said. “Are you a Democrat?”

“It’s just so weird,” Jake said. “Nixon masks.”

“Yeah,” Mary said, nodding toward Davies. “Almost as scary as the one she’s wearing now. That is a mask… right?”

“Cute,” Davies said.

“At least now I know why they called him Tricky Dick,” Mary said.

A coroner’s assistant walked past them and down the stairs, carrying a camera and a thick sheaf of notes. Moments later, the body of David Kenum passed by them on a gurney.

“I’ll catch up with you later,” Mary said to the corpse. “Now, are we done here?” she said, looking at Jake.

“Could you excuse us, Detective Cornell?” Davies said. Jake looked between the two and then turned to head down the stairs.

Mary turned to Davies. “I’m glad you got rid of him – he’s such a third wheel!”

“Shut up, Cooper,” Davies said.

“Enough with the subtlety.”

“Listen, I could care less about you and your pathetic little games with Cornell. I don’t care who or what you’ve f*cked or are f*cking – but once you start f*cking with my job – then I get angry.”

“That was a lot of f-bombs,” Mary said. “The language of the ignorant.”

“If I find out that you’ve withheld information or kept me out of the loop on anything regarding this case, you will never work again as a private investigator,” Davies said, her teeth clenched. “You’ll be just a cold, lonely, desperate old maid with a bunch of sorry one-liners only you appreciate.”

Davies spun on her heel and pounded down the stairs.

“Thanks for the pep talk, Davies. Gooooooo Cooper!” Mary said.

Her voice echoed in the empty hall.