Murder One; The Legend of Crossbow Charley: Carla Larsen Mystery, #8

By charles fisher

Someone has smuggled nuclear material into the country and has assembled a device they plan to detonate in a major city. The reason? Political gain by impeaching the President for incompetence. Charley is an undercover CIA agent who kills the importer in a McDonald's. He then helps Carla unravel the mystery. Bill Clinton makes an appearance, and you won't believe what he is doing for a living.

• Language: English
• Publisher: charles fisher
• Release date: Mar 2, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393988748

Book preview

Stratford, Connecticut  Police Department

900 Longbrook Avenue

Stratford, Connecticut

November, 2002

––––––––

She’s back, Kennedy smiled. Why do you have a heating pad on your stomach?

I don’t feel well, Carole snapped, looking up. It must be my period.

The Ghost Of  Reproductivity Past, Kennedy said. That ship sailed about twenty years ago.

Eat me, Carole said. Who’s back?

Jolene Barrett.

Oh, great; just what I need. I don’t have enough problems around here. What’s she doing here? She hates me.

As if that’s anything out of the ordinary, oh Great Wizard of Salerno’s.

I never did squat to her, Carole said. And that reminds me, it’s almost lunch time. Order me three calzones and two pizzas.

And for me? Kennedy smiled.

As many hot dogs as your fat stomach will hold, Carole said.

That could break the town budget, Kennedy said. I am a Sergeant, you know. We Sergeants have a reputation to uphold.

You should enter that hot dog eating contest they have every year in New York, Carole said.

I was automatically disqualified because professionals aren’t allowed.

What about fat slobs? Carole grinned. Are they allowed?

Yes, you could enter the contest, Kennedy said.

Get out, Carole snapped. I’m thin, she said, looking up. Send in the kid.

Jolene came in and sat down. She just stared at Carole.

Well? Carole said. Why are you back here?

You got old timer’s disease? Jolene said. You offered me a job two and a half years ago. Said you’d be honored  to have me on your squad. Well, here I am.

Why? No more criminals left in Montana? Carole said.

Nope. Killed ‘em all, Jolene grinned.

I wouldn’t be surprised, Carole sighed. You still carry that cannon?

The Casull? Indeed I do, Jolene said. Girl got to protect herself.

That thing shoots through brick walls, Carole said. If you want to come back here, you have to carry a regulation sidearm.

And just what would that be? Jolene said.

Water pistol, Carole grinned. Or a .38 Special.

Bye, Jolene said as she got up.

Sit down, Carole said. You wrecked my car before you left. That cost me, you know.

I do not know.

The insurance company  deductible. Two hundred buckaroos. Say you’re sorry.

That would be suborning perjury on your part, Jolene said. You could be prosecuted for that.

What, are you a lawyer now? Carole laughed.

In fact, I am. I completed law school last month.

Yeah, sure you did. You’re not old enough to have a law license.

Neither was your cousin Ronnie Lee, and neither was Carla, but they got ‘em. Now I got one. Surprising what you can pick up about crooked cops in law school, she grinned.

If that smart crack was aimed at me, forget about it. I am an honest cop.

Where’s Jimmy Anders? Jolene grinned. Carla gave me the file.

Why, that dirty little.......... Carole huffed. Never mind. That case is closed.

Murder got no statute of limitations, Jolene said.

He’s not dead, Carole leered. He just wishes he was. Besides, you have no proof and you are not a sworn officer in Connecticut. If you want to work for me, your glorious leader, you should stop threatening me, she said, looking up.

Keep lookin’ up there, old timer, Jolene said. Y’all best not say shit like that when there is a thunderstorm goin’ on. God don’t like liars.

I always tell the truth, Carole said.

Where be Carla? Jolene said.

In her office playing with herself most likely, Carole sighed. That thing must be about worn out the way she abuses it. Eighteen years old and still has to beat her..... you know.

What’s a you know? Jolene said.

You know, Carole said, nodding at Jolene’s crotch. What, you don’t have one?

I got one, Jolene said. But I am a moral person, unlike Carla. That thing be for pissin’, not kissin’.

You got a lot to learn, Carole sighed. You’re what, fourteen now?

Yes, I am.

God help you when your buzzer goes off. Anyway, so you want to join the squad, do you? I thought your Aunt needed you in Montana.

She retired. She got her twenty. The A-hole who took her place don’t know shit with the bag untied.

That’s beans with the bag untied, Carole said.

Not in his case. The boy got his job because he is one of them homo-sexuals and so is the Mayor. The two of ‘em be rollin’ around in a pile at night. As a good Christian person, I cannot abide that.

That is prejudice. If you join my squad, you will treat everyone equally, regardless of their sexual preference which, by the way, is none of your business.

I caught me a science teacher who had his hand down the front of the pants of a nine year old boy. That was my business.

That’s different, Carole said. That’s criminal behavior. Other than that, you will not hold someone’s private life against them. Just remember; they used to burn people at the stake because they didn’t have the same religious views as the gang in charge. Would you want somebody to do that to you?

Guess not, Jolene said. Maybe I got to be more tolerant of them sodomites that go against God’s laws, she smiled.

If you work here you are not here to enforce God’s laws, you are here to enforce the laws of the State of Connecticut and the Town of Stratford. If you don’t want to do that, go back to Moo-tana.

All right, I will disregard a peter puffer if I catch one, less he be after a child.

You step out of line and I will personally fire you, Carole said.

You mean Mr. Oldies ain’t in charge? Jolene grinned.

He has never been in charge of anything except his hair appointments, Carole nodded. I run this department. Don’t ever make the mistake of thinking otherwise.

Carla came in and hugged Jolene. What up, Killer? she smiled.

Not much. Montana be cleaned up somewhat, so I thought I’d come back here and help y’all. Course Granny Clampett here don’t favor my style and wants to impose a bunch of rules on my ass.

Don’t worry about her, Carla said. She is senile.

I am not, Carole snapped. How old do you think I am? Never mind, she said quickly. She took out a thick file and tossed it to Jolene. Here’s your first assignment. This clown has evaded the beaver whacker for two years, she smirked. Maybe you can catch him. Before that, you will present yourself in front of the department in dress blues to be sworn in.

Beaver whacker? Carla exclaimed. If you are referring to me, I highly resent that remark. I am a person of high moral quality.

Sure you are, Carole snickered. Is your phone number still advertised on the sex offenders’ web site?

I hope so, Carla muttered. I paid good money for that advertisement.

Captain Vito Antonelli came in and shook his head when he saw Jolene.

Junior came back? he grinned. What happened, Larsen, you run out of people to run to Salerno’s for you?

Suck it, Antonelli, Carole snapped. And how’s that new car you just bought?

How’d youse find out about that? Vito exclaimed. Youse douche bags wrecked every car I ever had except Marie’s Caddy. Why does she get a pass?

Because she’s a girl and you’re an asshole, Carole grinned. You aren’t parking that piece of shit here, I’ll tell you that right now. I don’t care what kind of crate it is, do not bring it onto police property. That’s an order. I’m tired of being accused of things I didn’t do, she said, trying not to laugh.

Order shmorder, Vito said with a wave of his hand. I ain’t in your squad, big shot. You got no stroke where the real Italian man is concerned. I’ll drive whatever I want to work.

Okay, Carole shrugged. Don’t come bitching to me when something bad happens to it.

Yeah, youse is all talk and no squirrels.

Huh? Carole laughed.

You don’t got the nuts to take on a real man like me. Even Junior got away with trashing your ride when she left here two years ago.

Not yet, she didn’t, Carole nodded. That insurance deductible is coming out of her first paycheck.

Youse mean you hired this dumb bracciole? What for? We gotta fill up the kindergarten class?

She’s fourteen. The population of Stratford has gone up, which means we need more cops. And that reminds me, young lady, you are under sixteen. That means you have to attend school.

Been there and done that, Jolene said. She fished through her bag and handed Carole her high school diploma and transcript. I finished six months after I got home.

How the hell did you do that? Carole exclaimed. Holy moley, you got straight A’s, too.

Dummy Larsen got all D’s, Vito grinned. Except in her bra.

You shut up, Antonelli. I was a good student.

High school was the hardest six years of your life, Vito grinned. Youse was the only kid in the Senior class who was old enough to vote.

Ha ha. I was working here when I was eighteen, so there. I want you to swear Jolene in tomorrow, smartass.

Youse hire this dope and you’re gonna be sorry, Vito said.

Funny, that’s exactly what Capri told me when I hired you.

Never mind me. Chief Hairspray was always jealous because I’m a real Guinea man and he’s a fanook. Now I gotta look at Junior every day? Youse dames got some balls, doin’ that to me.

Jolene got up and slowly approached Vito, a murderous glare on her face.

Youse stay away from me, you creep, Vito nodded as he backed up.

I’m going to count to three, Jolene grinned as she pulled the .454 Casull out of her bag. There will not be a four.

I got shit to do, Vito said as he quickly headed for the door. Polish up your training bra and be on time tomorrow.

Take a shower, you pig, Jolene called out as Vito ran back to his office. My God, that guy stinks.

Stratford, Connecticut  Police Department

900 Longbrook Avenue

Stratford, Connecticut

November, 2002

––––––––

Raise your paw, Junior, Vito said. He was wearing his dress blues and actually smelled good for a change. Jolene, wearing her new dress blues and white gloves, raised her hand.

Say this crap after I say it, Vito said. He took out a 3 x 5 index card and looked at it, a puzzled expression on his face.

I can’t read this shit, he muttered. Jolene reached over and turned the card right side up. Oh. That’s better, Vito grinned. I, Jo....whatever the hell your name is, do sol....sol...

Give me that, asshole, Jolene snapped. I’ll read it, since you can’t. I, Jolene Anastasia Barrett, do solemnly swear to uphold and defend the Constitution of the State of Connecticut and the Town Charter of Stratford, and to faithfully execute the duties of police officer to the best of my ability, so help me God.

What she said, Vito grinned as the department laughed. He handed Jolene her gold shield. Congratulations, Junior. Youse is now a full fledged Detective First Grade, which is good, because youse look like you just granulated from first grade. Jolene hugged Vito as the department applauded. Carole came over.

Go change, Kid. Time to earn your pay. My office, ten minutes. Bring Miss Piggy, she smirked, eyeing Carla, who was fiddling with something in her bag. What’s in there? Carole smiled.

Nothin’, Carla said and quickly closed the bag.

She got one of them dill pickles or whatever youse dames call them things you shove in your cooze, Vito grinned.

It ain’t! Carla yelled. It’s my new King James bible. I am a moral person. I am also up for Captain.

Youse is a slobovator, Vito grinned. You got a bunch of them rubber boners in your locker.

That’s evy-dence in a case I am working on, Carla huffed.

Yeah, the case of the missing Virginianity, Vito grinned.

Who? Carla said.

That thing youse dames got; you know. It’s like the Berlin Wall but yours been penetrated by infiltrationers. You been deflowered and rolled in bread crumbs.

Let’s go, Carole sighed. Before we have to hire an interpreter.

I already been interpretated, Vito said. Hard and dry. I’m married.

Okay, Carole said as they sat down. Read that file and get on this dude. Or dudette, as the case may be. Six murders in the last two years. No clues, no witnesses, no prints, no nothing.

Boy is good, Carla nodded. I cannot find shit about whoever he or she is.

Any common themes? Jolene said.

Yeah, Carole snickered. He plays the theme from The Tonight Show every time he offs somebody. What do you mean?

You can’t possibly be that stupid, Jolene sighed.

I could if it paid enough, Carole shrugged.

Common victims. All girls or whores, she smirked, looking at Carla. All blacks, shit like that.

Why, you little bastard, Carla huffed. How dare you call me that?

Nothing jumps right out at me, Carole said. Ask Miss Rubber Boner over there. It’s her case.

They all went to that shit high school y’all damn near flunked out of, Carla grinned.

Half the town went to my high school, and I graduated high in my class, Carole snapped.

Yeah, you may have been high, all right, but your grades was lower than whale shit.

Never mind my stellar grades. Go earn your paycheck.

I don’t take a paycheck, Carla said. I got big money.

And we all know how you got it, Carole said. Doing the Horizontal Hula.

That reminds me of a boy we had in the orphanage, Carla grinned. He were from Hawaii. Had him a big ukulele, too. We used to play Penetrate the Pineapple with the boy, until Mary Ellen Weiner got hold of him. She were from Nebraska, and that was her name, no lie. She locked the boy in her room and taught him a whole new meaning for Macadamia Nuts. She done worked on his sugar cane somethin’ awful, too. What? Carla said as Carole just stared at her. Y’all don’t believe me?

I don’t believe any of your bullshit stories, Carole said. Nobody could possibly be as a big a slut as you have described yourself.

I could, Carla grinned. It ain’t easy, but you can do it if you try hard enough. That reminds me of Billy Joe Headman. Hard Enough Headman, we called him. He were in the special wing of the orphanage for boys who had big.....ideas. He were a phil-osopher, Carla said. He taught us about re-ligion and politics and such. We never laid a hand on his..... you know.

I bet he laid a hand on your you know, Carole nodded.

Boy were a dud, Carla muttered. Like that A-hole crook President we had who would not eat broccoli. There be a few things Billy Joe would not eat, which the girls found to be a major flaw in the boy’s character. He did not end up having a good life. Mary Jo, they call him now, Carla grinned.

Okay, enough bullshit. Go find this killer. He uses a crossbow.

That is a fine weapon, Carla nodded. Silent but deadly. Just like y’all after that Minnesota Madness shit your mother cooks.

I have a digestive problem, Carole snapped. Get out. Go do your job.

Y’all got to promote me first, Carla grinned. I worked hard and long as a Loo-tenant. You got no Captain of Detectives. That be me.

I don’t need one, Carole smirked.

We was not talking about your bra, Carla grinned.

Shut up, you twerp. I have more than enough.

I lost more’n you got, but that is beside the point. You got too many girls here now, and somebody got to ride herd on their fine young asses. That would be me. I got the time in grade, and I got me a fine record.

You kill more people than you bring in, Carole laughed.

And think of the money that saves the town, Carla said.

You have a point. All right, shag your well used ass out there while the boys are still here.

Carla went out and stood on the dais as Kennedy called the department to attention. Carole came out.

Detective Carla Larsen, it is my extreme honor and pleasure to promote you to the rank of Captain of Detectives. Congratulations.

Thank you, Carla nodded as Carole handed Carla her new Captain’s bars.

Don’t disappoint me, Carole nodded as she shook hands with Carla.

I never have, Carla said.

McDonald’s Restaurant

2439 Barnum Avenue

Stratford, Connecticut

November, 2002

Hi, how can I help you? the counter waitress said.

"Quarter Pounder Meal with Cheese, and............. the man suddenly stopped talking and froze.

What the...... the waitress whispered. About four inches of what appeared to be an arrow was now protruding from the man’s forehead. He collapsed in a heap as the other patrons started screaming and ran for the exits. The waitress grabbed a phone and dialed 911. Three minutes later Carla and Jolene arrived, followed by six patrol cars and Coroner Selma Bridewell.

Who waited on this boy? Carla said, holding up her shield. I am Captain of  Detectives in this here town.

I waited on him, the waitress cried. I’m Sally Jennings.

Well now, Sally, Carla said. Tell me what happened.

He made his order, then I looked up and he was just standing there, blood dribbling down his forehead. There was something sticking out. It looked to be about four inches long.

Poor bastard, Carla muttered. Boy got no chance at all of getting’ no girl with somethin’ that small........ never mind. You see how this happened?

No. He had this thing sticking out, like I told you, then he just fell down.

Oh, you mean that arrer stickin’ out of the boy’s head, not his...... you know.

What’s a you know? Sally said.

Y’all got a boyfriend? Carla said.

Yes.

Then you know what his you know is. You know, his Quarter Pounder. Your boyfriend got one of them?

Yeah, he’s got a lot more than that, the girl leered.

Well, we did not inspect this boy’s equipment, but I am sure Birdwell will have a gander at it, Carla grinned.

Shut your mouth, you filthy tramp! Bridewell shouted. Every time I touch a dead body, I have to listen to you accusing me of necrophilia.

You done it, ain’t ya, Carla grinned. Ride the old stiffy to paradise. Why y’all got a bottle of hand cream in your bag?

I have dry skin, Bridewell huffed.

Y’all got somethin’ else that be dry, too.  It be like Star Trek; where no man has gone before.

Unlike yourself, Miss Clothes Dryer, Bridewell smirked. Why don’t you shut up and let me do my job?

Don’t look like you got much to do, Carla said. Boy been shot through the head with a crossbow and he be dead.

How do you know it’s a crossbow? Bridewell said. It could be a regular arrow. You aren’t smart enough to know the difference.’

Do it have feathers on it? Carla smiled. And I do not mean that thing you got between them polio legs you got.

No, it does not, Bridewell snapped. And I have a fine.....you know.

Seems to be a new word to define a pussy, Carla grinned. That thing get wet when you climb into the birdbath for a drink?

Die, you evil little prostitute, Bridewell snapped as she signaled for her assistants to take the body away.

Do you want us to put him in a drawer, or in your personal inspection room? one attendant smiled. The one with the blue lighting, silk sheets, incense, and lava lamp.

Get out, Bridewell snapped. And take the decedent with you.

No feathers means a crossbow bolt, not an arrer, Carla said. I seen ‘em both used. Crossbow be better.

That’s your problem, not mine, Bridewell said. I just determine the cause of death.

Then y’all gonna sit on the boy’s face before he cools off, ain’tcha, Carla grinned. Get yer jollies that way, huh girl?

You are a rotten, disgusting, no good filthy teenage pig with no morals, no conscience, and no appreciation of what a real woman is supposed to be.

I know it ain’t you, Ostrich girl, Carla nodded. Any man who wants to have it his way would be better off goin’ to Burger King.

I don’t have to take your shit, Bridewell snapped. I’m leaving.

That dress be a mite too tight for an old gal, Carla called out as Bridewell wiggled out to her car. Might give fellers the wrong idea, that there might be a real  woman under that thing.

Bridewell flipped Carla the finger as she left. The next day, she appeared in Carole’s office. Kennedy came in and offered her a bowl of sunflower seeds.

Get away from me, you fat degenerate, Bridewell snapped.

Oh, I apologize, Kennedy smiled. Tuesday is suet day.

Go eat some more hot dogs, you fat pig, Bridewell smirked. I can’t wait to perform your autopsy.

I know, Kennedy grinned. That’s the only way you could get your hands on the Dublin Destroyer.

You wish, Bridewell smirked. I’ve dated Irish guys, she said, holding her fingers three inches apart.

That must represent what’s left over after they hit the bottom of Coroner Cavern, Kennedy smiled.

Oh shit, Carole giggled. He got you there, Tweety Bird.

I have a very small, tight.....you know, Bridewell said, looking up.

It’s always tight when nobody wants to use it, Kennedy said as he unwrapped a hot dog and farted.

You are truly the most disgusting human that has ever lived on this planet, Bridewell said as she covered her face with a handkerchief.

Thank you, Kennedy said. As a Sergeant, I consider that a compliment. Would you like to have my underwear? I haven’t changed it since January.

Get out, Bridewell gagged. You stink.

I stink, therefore I am, Kennedy said as he farted again. Uh oh, that one had juice behind it. I have to go now.

You never learn do you, Carole said. You can’t beat Kennedy when it comes to insults. Did you know he ate a girl’s puke in the high school cafeteria to win a bet with her girlfriend? Then the girlfriend had to tongue kiss him.

Charming, Bridewell said. I would expect nothing less of you and that corpulent cretin. Look at me; a tall, elegant woman with nice legs; I have class and education and a killer body. Unlike you, I actually have breasts, she smirked. I wear the best lingerie, use the best perfume, and I can speak four languages and have four college degrees. What do you have?

A .45, Carole grinned. Try to make it to the door, asshole.

Figures, Bridewell said. You never liked me or my sister.

Now you understand everything, Carole said. It isn’t my job to like you. Just do your job. As if we need you to, she said. This case is pretty obvious.

The only obvious thing about it is that you and your goon squad can’t solve it, Bridewell said. Which means more  work for me, and more needless deaths. How do you feel now, you  unctuous, undereducated piece of crap?

Like the Byrds song said, I’ll feel a whole lot better when you’re gone.

It figures you’d be enamored by popular garbage music produced by drug addicts from the sixties, Bridewell smirked. I, on the other hand, prefer fine opera and classical music. I am a desirable woman of inestimable class. You are a stunted little bridge troll nobody wants.

You are a creepy looking nerd who likes to hump corpses, Carole leered. You can spray all the exotic perfume you want on that chicken ass of yours, but you’ll still be going to bed alone at night. No man in his right mind wants to cavort with somebody who works with dead bodies all day.

You’ll have my report in the morning, Bridewell said as she stood to go. As if you’d know what to do with it, you idiot.

Bye, Carole smiled as Bridewell left. There’s a dish of worms for you at the desk in the lobby.

Vito came in and clucked at Bridewell as she left.

Go fuck yourself, Captain Body Odor, Bridewell snapped as she stormed out.

What’s Cockless Robin’s problem? Vito said.

The usual, Carole said. She’s 54, has no ass, and thinks she’s God’s gift to the world.

Youse ain’t no bargain either, Bucket Ass, Vito grinned. Youse is the same age as her.

I am not, Carole huffed. My mother lied about when I was born just to make herself look younger than she is. I’m barely into my forties, Carole said, looking up.

The only thing you got in its forties is your ass measurement, Vito grinned. They closed Mickey D’s for two days because that dude got killed. Bet that pisses you off.

I don’t eat there, Carole said. They have their own cattle herds, you know. They sell all the good cuts of beef, and use the shit that’s left over to make those awful hamburgers they sell. Things look like hockey pucks because they start making them an hour before lunch and stick them under a heat lamp. And their French Fries suck, too. They are greasy and limp. Like you, she grinned.

You wish. I wouldn’t know anyway; no self respecting Italian eats in them fast food shit holes. We eat in good Italian restaurants and delis.

That reminds me, Carole smirked. I just got Sorrento’s Deli approved for our food budget, since Mayor Mc Cheese’s son went to the joint for 8 years and the Town Manager  got voted out of office, courtesy of....us. You want anything? she grinned.

Yeah. A good salami and provolone  Guinea grinder with Italian peppers and olive oil. I suppose I got to pay.

Nope. The town is paying. Save your money. You’re going to need it, Mr. Classic Car.

Youse touch my ride and I’ll fix your ass but good, Vito nodded.

I’m scared.

Youse should be. I got connections.

Try connecting your brain to your ass, Carole said. That shouldn’t be too hard, because your head is up there half the time.

Youse is funny. Why did you make Coo-coo a Captain? Now she got the same rank as me. Youse got to promote me now so’s I can still tell her what to do.

Promote you to what? Carole laughed. Learn to walk upright and I’ll promote you to human.

I wanna be a Major, Vito grinned. That outranks a Captain.

There is no such rank on this force. The next bump after Captain is Chief.

Then make me a Chief.

We don’t have any openings. Me, Tracy, Capri, and Clarence are Chiefs. You are an asshole.

Yeah, sure, a spade outranks an Italian. Only in Stratford.

Clarence Jackson stuck his head in the door. Did I hear whining and crying? he grinned. Oh, it’s you, Antonelli. You got a problem with having a black man outrank you?

Yeah, I do. Youse ain’t even on the same revolutionary level as a Guinea. Youse is a banana eating jerkoff who swings through the trees at night.

You are Captain of Patrol. I am Chief of Patrol. That means I get to tell your white ass what to do, Clare grinned. Go wash my cruiser.

Wash this, you collard green sucking bastard, Vito laughed, pouching himself. I ain’t taking orders  from no nigger. I’ll quit first.

How long you been on the job, Smelly Antonelli? Clare smiled.

I been here 12 years, asshole. Of course you spades can’t count anything except the Benjamins from drug deals, huh? I also got time from New York, where I locked up half the niggers in the Bronx. All told, 29 years six months.

That means your pension here only pays what you were making at the twenty year mark, Clare grinned. That’s 50 percent. You got six more months to hit 30, when you get 75%.

So what? Vito said.

So if the black man, who happens to be your boss, fires your Dago ass, you just pissed away nine years on the job.

Youse can’t fire me, Vito said. Youse is an interior species.

Yes he can, Carole said. I gave him full authority. He can fire anybody in his department for any reason.

Youse would do that to me, Jackson? Vito whined.

Wash my car, Honky, Clare grinned. And vacuum the interior. And from now on my name is Sir.

Carole began singing To Sir With Love. She started laughing so hard she fell on the floor.

Lookit this shit, Vito said, pointing at Carole. Asshole can’t even sit in her chair. Youse take orders from her? You oughta be ashamed of yourself.

I do not, Clare smiled. I work for the other Eye-talian. You know, Chief Oldies.

He’s a half a fag, Vito sighed. Look what we got here. A friggin’ lunatic high school D student for a Chief of D, another dude who gets his nails done every week who runs the show, and a bunch of girl kid Detectives. I should shoot myself.

You want to use my gun? Clare grinned. Get going, cracker. Wash my car. And don’t touch my fried chicken, my rap music CDs, or the watermelon in the back seat.

What if I ain’t gonna do it? Vito said.

Then you get about a third less in your pension, Clare grinned.

You think he’ll ever learn? Carole smiled as Vito left.

Nope, but it’s gonna be the best six months of my life, Clare grinned.

Stratford, Connecticut  Police Department

900 Longbrook Avenue

Stratford, Connecticut

November, 2002

––––––––

There it is, Carole giggled as she pointed at Vito’s new classic car. What is that piece of shit? It looks like a rocket ship gone bad.

1959 Cadillac convertible, Carla grinned. Biggest fins ever on an American car. They be worth a fair price. Although that one looks a bit  long in the tooth.

I ordered him not to bring that thing to work, and he disobeyed a direct order from a superior officer. He has to pay for that.

That could be arranged, Carla grinned. Tracy got connections through that garbage company.

Do it, Carole said. Vito is at Mama Washington’s picking up barbecue for Clarence. I can arrange for him to have to wait a while.

Carla went into Tracy’s office. Y’all got to call that garbage boy y’all use for getting’ rid of corpses I mean trash.

What fer? Tracy said.

He got that in with a junkyard. We need us a car crusher, Carla grinned. Vito done brought his 1959 Cadillac to work when the Chief said not to.

Tracy picked up the phone and dialed Dom Del Parlessio’s Sanitation. It’s me, she said. Chief O’Neil. Yeah, that’s right, you Guinea crook. What did you call me, you no good  Mafia bastard? How about I send six squad cars down there to have a look around, ya Dago son of a  bitch? That’s better. We need a car squasher here. We got a illegal parking situation, and the boy does not listen. Yeah. How much? What? You serious? That’s out of line, boy. I’ll give you half. That’s more like it, fella. Be here in five minutes. She hung up and smiled at Carla. He loves me, she said. Fifteen hundred.

Y’all throw my money around pretty good, Carla said as she peeled off the money from her bankroll.

You want to dance, you got to pay the band, Tracy said. That boy got brain damage, parkin’ that thing here. Don’t he know it ain’t gonna be here when he gets back?

Oh, but it will be, Carla grinned. But he ain’t gonna be able to drive it home. Then we get to bill him for havin’ somebody take it away. Then the town takes it out of his check.

Yer gonna kill the poor Dago, Tracy grinned. He does love the dollar, he do. You got anything on that crossbow killer?

Not yet. We got to canvas the whole street and see if anybody filmed him.

Mama Washington’s Rib House

Stratford Avenue

Bridgeport, Connecticut

November, 2002

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What you doing here, white boy? Mama Washington smirked at Vito. We don’t serve no Lasagna here.

Shaddup, you dummy, Vito scowled. I’m a cop. I’m here to pick up an order.

For who? Mama laughed. You Dagos don’t eat our food.

That’s right, Vito grinned. No Italian would eat this crap. Lookit