Death by Sarcasm

Five

Actually, the joke was already on her. A car that usually garnered no attention at all had suddenly created a crowd. Mary saw a patrol car pull a U-turn three blocks down.

Mary took out her cell phone and called Jake.

“Someone shot up my car,” she said.

“The Buick? Maybe it was a mercy killing. Auto euthanasia.”

“You’re buddies in blue are here,” she said as the patrol car pulled up next to the Buick. “You might want to pull up your pants and let them know this just might have to do with a certain ongoing murder investigation.”

She snapped her phone shut and volunteered herself to the patrol officers. Once she finished answering their questions, she did her best to work the crowd to see if anyone had witnessed the shooting. Eventually, several people pointed out a young guy with greasy hair and thick glasses who they said claimed he’d been the first one here. She made her way over to him.

“I’ve never seen a car assassinated before,” Mary said.

“I saw you talking to the cops,” he said. “Is it yours?”

“What, do I look like I’m 90 years old?” she said. “I’m just curious. Like you.”

They walked as close to the car as they could get, without getting in the way of the cops. He took a closer look at the windshield. “Probably just some kids,” he said. “Vandals, don’t you think?”

Mary considered it for a moment. “Yeah, vandals,” she said. “Old ones.”

“Old ones?”

“Old people think Buicks are for them,” she said. “So they hate seeing a young hardbody like me driving one. This happens to me quite a lot, actually.”

The guy adjusted his glasses and looked at Mary, his eyes slightly wide with fear.

“Why do you still drive it then?” he said.

“I’m not gonna let those old f*ckers win, man.”

He seemed to think about it for a moment, then said, “You know, now that you mention old people, I may have seen a little something. It was probably nothing, but now it makes a little more sense, maybe.”

Mary felt her heart beat a little faster. She needed a break.

“What’d you see?” she said, keeping her voice bored and disinterested.

“Well, I thought I heard something weird, little pops and breaking glass. I live up on the fourth floor,” he said, pointing to a building about a half a block away.

“So then what did you do?”

“Well, I walked over and saw the car, then I saw a guy a few blocks down, walking kind of fast, but trying not to look like he was walking fast, know what I mean?”

“What’d he look like?”

“I never got a good look at him.” He tapped his glasses. “It was just that he had a windbreaker on. And it was a weird color. It was kind of hard to tell, but it sort of looked like a turquoise blue. But like I said, I can’t see very well. And I am partially color blind.”

“What’s your name?” she asked him.

“Tim.”

Mary nodded.

“All right, take off Tim, unless you want the cops to take you downtown and question you for half the night.”

Tim virtually trembled at the thought. He turned to go, but then had a second thought.

“You know, you were bullshitting me with that old people thing, weren’t you?” He squinted at her through his thick glasses.

Mary shook her head, then held up two fingers in the peace sign and hooked them into sharp claws.

“As we used to say in the Girl Scouts: Honor bright – Snake bite!”

Jake and Mary watched the Buick’s front end slide up onto the LAPD tow truck. Even though the crime scene unit had done some preliminary work, the vehicle would need to be taken back to the lab to dig out the bullets and perform more intricate examinations.

“So you’re going to need a ride, huh?” Jake said, a little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Sure will,” Mary said. “Want to wait with me for the cab?”

He took that one in stride, she saw.

“Now, Mary, there’s no need for a cab,” he said. “The good citizens of Los Angeles would be happy to know their tax dollars were being used to give a lady in distress much needed transportation.”

“Ah, it’s the Jake Cornell sex tax,” she said. “I don’t recall seeing that itemized on my annual tax statement.”

“It’s listed under city services.”

“Ah,” Mary said. She knew Jake was kidding around, but the idea of taking her home being seen as a charitable service pissed her off just a tad. “Well, I would accept a ride,” she said. “But I’m just afraid that if the Shark found out, you would have to tuck tail again like you did last night.”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s called being professional,” he said. “You should try it sometime.”

“Career advice from a guy f*cking his boss,” Mary said. “That makes sense.” She pulled out her cell phone. “I’m calling a cab. You meet a better class of people that way.”

“Look,” Jake said. “If you let me take you home, I’ll let you know a few things we’ve found out, okay?”

“Oh, Jake,” she said, her voice husky. “You always know just what to say.” Mary climbed into his unmarked car.

Jake fired it up and they headed east toward Santa Monica and Mary’s condo.

“Spill it, Shark Wrangler,” she said.

“Bullets were 9mm,” he answered. “Two to the back of the head. Probably a silencer. The knife was traced to a wholesaler in Gary, Indiana, but their products are often moved from retail location to retail location so it’s virtually impossible to track.”

Jake swung onto Lincoln and Mary caught a glimpse of the ocean when they turned onto Ocean Park.

“Any other good news?” she said.

“We’re continuing to interview the waitress and trying to track down other customers who were there, but so far nothing. We have a few names we’re running down, but so far, no one’s jumping out at us.”

Mary nodded.

“What about you?” he said.

“The guy who shot my car may have been wearing a turquoise blue windbreaker, but my wit is partially color blind,” Mary said. “So who knows?”

Jake pulled to a stop at a red light. They were a block from the ocean and Mary could see the moon peeking out from behind the Santa Monica mountains.

“Sounds like we’ve both got nothing,” Jake said.

“Is that what you’re going to tell Davies? Maybe during a little pillow talk?”

“A. We’re not sleeping together so there is no pillow talk. And B. Christ, no, I won’t tell her anything you say. You think I’d tell her the truth? That I gave some information regarding an ongoing investigation to a private investigator? Do I look suicidal?”

Mary smiled inside as the light turned green and Jake gunned the car. He had shared information with her that Davies would not be happy about. That was good. She liked that. But the smile didn’t appear on her face. She thought of saying something nice to him.

Instead, she said, “Maybe it slipped out during a particularly fierce orgasm.”

Jake took both hands off the wheel to raise them in frustration. “You need to give me a break. That was a one-night stand – we were both drunk. It didn’t mean anything. And it still doesn’t. Besides, you and I had already broken up.”

“It was an unofficial breakup. You had Davies seal the deal – with her cooker.”

“Oh my God,” Jake said. Mary enjoyed the fact that she could exasperate him so.

Yeah,” Mary said. “And you obviously took our parting so hard you ran into her arms, or should I say, legs?”

They pulled up outside Mary’s condo and Jake rammed the shifter into Park. He turned in the seat to face her. “Don’t act all innocent,” he said. “I heard you were going around with some weird little weightlifter guy. What’d you guys do on your first date, spot each other on the squat rack?”

“The guy at my gym?” Mary laughed. “He was my trainer.”

“Yeah, sure. Uh-huh,” Jake said. “Probably your sex trainer.” Mary loved it when he tried to get sarcastic. It was like a kid trying on clothes that were too big for him.

“The only squat thrust I’ve seen recently,” Mary said. “Is the one Davies was doing over your goddamn wanker.”

“All right!” Jake let out a fierce sigh. He put both hands back on the steering wheel and squeezed as if it were a stress reliever. “Let’s just…stop talking about it.”

They sat for moment before Mary spoke. She really would have liked to invite him up to her place, but didn’t want to ask. It was like she’d gone too far down a one-way alley and didn’t have enough room to turn around.

“And for your information,” she said. “I didn’t go out with that little weightlifter guy. I was worried he would chalk his hands when things got heated up. Maybe strap on that big leather belt of his.”

Jake laughed softly. Mary loved to see him smile. He had a great smile, his eyes brightened and ten years fled from his face.

“You know what I don’t get?” he said, glancing in his rearview mirror.

“Nose hair,” Mary said. “But you’re getting plenty in your ears.”

“When we were together,” he said, ignoring her. “You never really acted like you cared too much, you know? I mean, I figured you did, but maybe I was wrong. And if so, then I don’t see why you would now.”

“Who says I care now?”

“You don’t?”

“I care about the truth,” she said.

“Oh, the truth,” he said.

“Look,” Mary said. “You moved on. You made love to a woman with the personality of a cod. And we hadn’t broken up yet. But if you want to maintain your innocence. Go ahead. Fine with me. Your conscience is clear, even if your ear canals aren’t.”

Mary swung her door open and stepped out. She shut the door then leaned in through the window.

“But even if I still cared, I wouldn’t tell you.”

“Why not?”

“Because you wouldn’t be able to withstand the full force of my emotions – it would render you a slave. You would beg me to allow you to caress my nether regions, to gently buff my ivory buttcheeks-”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Jake said as Mary backed toward the door of her building. “Have a good night, Mary.”

He pulled the car from the curb and zoomed back toward the city.

She watched him go. Well, what she had said was mostly the truth. Except for the part about her ivory buttcheeks.

They were really more like porcelain.