Inviolate: Carla Larsen Mystery

By charles fisher

Carla and the department continue to pursue a devil worship cult in Stratford. Carla goes to Sweden and finds Jimmy Anders in a hotel, and disposes of him. He is finally gone. Or is he?

• Language: English
• Publisher: charles fisher
• Release date: Jan 30, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393630883

Book preview

Inviolate

I have seen the future, and you ain’t in it

Stratford, Connecticut  Police Department

900 Longbrook Avenue

Stratford, Connecticut

June, 2003

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Did you enjoy your vacation? Carole smiled.

Yeah, I did, Carla grinned. There be a few Swedish dudes on life support, but overall it were fun.

Kennedy came in and stared at Carla as he unwrapped a hot dog. There were six reports last week of naked men being chased down Nichols Avenue at night by a blonde in a negligee. You know anything about that?

I know Swedish dudes can’t run as fast as me, Carla grinned. Who filed them reports, anyway? I will go pay them a visit. That ain’t right, spreadin’ gossip about a fine, upstandin’ gal like me.

We know what was standing up, Kennedy smiled. And the reports were filed anonymously.

Chicken shit bastards, Carla grumbled. Prob’ly them fat women who live down the street from us. They was always jealous of us. Well, me, anyway, she grinned. Ain’t nobody jealous of Carole.

Kiss my ass, Carole laughed.

I ain’t got lips that big, Carla said as she stole a hot dog from Kennedy’s pistol belt.

Chief of Police Clarence Jackson stuck his head in the door. I hear somebody talk about big lips, you honky motherfuckers? Always tryin’ to keep the black  man down.

I have two words for you, soon to be former Chief, Carole grinned. Sickle Cell.

What? Clarence exclaimed. Sickle what?

You heard me, Carole said. And if that doesn’t work for you, try hypertension. All you assholes have that from eating all that fried chicken and those greasy ribs you like.

Fried chicken be good, Clarence nodded. And barbecued ribs. Call Mama Washington’s and order me some, Clare grinned.

The police food budget only covers white people, Carole smiled. Part with some of the bribe money you take from all the black drug dealers in town and buy your own ribs.

That be a nasty assed comment, Clare nodded. From a  fat white bitch who deals with the Mafia every day for her eats.

Carole took out her notebook. Fat..... white..... bitch, she wrote. More evidence for your competency hearing, she said. First you have to prove you’re human.

You and that Wop bastard Antipasto, Clare nodded. Two white bigot jerkoffs. But I be the Chief of Po-lice, he grinned. And I can fire your white asses.

Listenin’ to this shit be more fun than a pogo stick with a boner attachment, Carla grinned.

Chief of Patrol Vito Antonelli stuck his head in the door. Real Italian man here; youse douche  bags all done with the girly chat bullshit?

We were having us a discussion about race relations, Dago, Clare nodded.

Nothing to discuss, Vito shrugged. Youse is a nigger, and we ain’t. Youse is a member of an inferior feces. You lose.

There be more Eye-talians percentagewise locked up in the joint than blacks, Clare said.

Youse is deleterious, Vito said. I been to the friggin’ prison. Place looks like a Tarzan movie gone bad.

He has a point, Carole grinned. Blacks make up more than half the prison population, but they are only 12% of the country’s population.

And we are workin’ on reducin’ that, Carla muttered.

What did you say, white bread? Clare exclaimed.

Nothin’, Carla shrugged.

Some day we will have a black President, Clare grinned. Then you white motherfuckers will pay.

You wish, Sambo, Vito laughed. A Guinea will be President before a spook will. You think they’re gonna let some jigaboo cook ribs in a cut down garbage can on the White House lawn, and park old Cadillacs with them leopard skin interiors on Pencil Vein Avenue? Then youse assholes will sit on the front porch in a tank top and no shoes, and drink Ripple out of a brown paper bag. That ain’t right; George Washingmachine  wouldn’t like that.

Dago have lost his mind, Clare sighed.

Can’t lose what you never had. Even Vito, who is just one step above plant life, is better than a Negro, Carole grinned. That would be you, Buckwheat.

I got your Buckwheat right here, Clare laughed. Order me them ribs.

You want collard greens with extra salt pork, too? Carole said as she picked up the phone. That will clog up your arteries and give you a stroke; that way we won’t have to smell you anymore.

You be one nasty white girl, Clare sighed. Leave out the extra salt pork, he said. I gots to watch my weight.

Watch it do what? Carla grinned. Increase? Where you find pants with a fifty inch waist, anyway?

I have a 36 inch waist, Clare huffed, sucking in his stomach.

Y’all best order some extra ribs, Carla grinned at Carole. I like good barby-cue.

Girl got some black in her, Clare grinned.

She had more shit in her than youse can count, Vito laughed. We was in New York State and she went steady with an ear of corn.

It were good, too, Carla grinned. Butter and Sugar. Cob job, we called it in the orphanages.

Carole made the order and had Patrol go pick it up. Enough about who’s better; we all know Negroes are down near Mushrooms on the evolutionary scale.

Y’all best order some more Eye-talian food, Carla said. I am in the mood for spaghetti and meatballs. And pizza.

Your wish is my command, Carole said as she grabbed the phone and called Salerno’s.

See? Clare exclaimed. Spendin’ the town’s money with a bunch of damn Wop-a-Ho crooks.

I went to high school with the Salernos, Carole snapped. They never got so much as a parking ticket.

Assistant Chief of Detectives Tracy O’Neil came in and shook her head in dismay. Lookit this shit, she sighed. Looks like a meetin’ of the United Nations on crack. Two dumb Swedes, a Dago, and whatever the hell you call this, she grinned, elbowing Clare. Mighty Joe Young in a copper’s uniform.

Carole began singing Beautiful Dreamer. She got you there, Chimp, she grinned.

And what do we have here, Clare smiled, pointing at Tracy. A six foot tall Irish genetic mistake. I bet she got her a big old penis, too.

Aye, Tracy grinned. Had me one last night, and it were white; not no this won’t get hard hang to my knee piece of meat like you black boys got.

Once you go black, you’ll never go back, Clare grinned.

Once you go white, it stays up all night, Tracy grinned. There a point to this meeting I don’t know about?

Yeah, Carole said. It’s for people who have an IQ above sixty. That lets you out.

I’d let you out, but your ass won’t fit through the doggy door, Tracy smiled.

What? Carole shrieked. I have a trim coolie! Scum face was about to update us on how she’s going to clean up Stratford.

I know how’s she’s gonna do it, Tracy said. She’s gonna eat up all the food in town so the crooks will starve to death.

That is a good idea, Carla mused. I can do it, too. And I ain’t overlooked that scum face remark, Quasimoto.

You wait, Carole nodded. I’m going to make you eat my mother’s cooking.

I quit, Carla grinned. And I am moving back to Kansas.

Residence of Dennis O’Leary

Greenfield Avenue

Stratford, Connecticut

June, 2003

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The Christians killed Dennis, Sally O’Leary said as she  smeared dog shit on the Bible. I just know it.

Then we have to take over where his magnificent teaching left off, Lorene Barstead nodded as she fingered the upside down cross at her neck. We must carry on for him. When is the last time you saw him?

Last month. I went out to do a gangbang with some of our young followers. When I came home, he wasn’t here. I smelled something like gunpowder, and the windows were open. Somebody took him away.

We will find out what happened and the guilty will pay, Lorene said. We will kill them all. Then we will continue to educate the young people in the ways of Satan, not Jesus Christ, who is a fake prophet Jew bastard.

I hate Jews, Sally leered. I love to kill them. They are shit people.

Satan is the only god! Lorene shouted, throwing her hands in the air.

We have to be careful, Sally said. There are......never mind.

You must tell me, Lorene said.

There are two police Detectives here who are very crafty and vicious, Sally smirked. They believe in this deceptive prevaricator they call Jesus. I think they took Dennis.

Do you fear them? Lorene smiled.

No. I know that our Lord Satan is the true god. But these people use the...........again, I hesitate to say.

You must. I am the Master’s disciple. I must know all.

They burn people at the stake, Sally said, looking away. Purification by fire.

Then we shall do that to them, Lorene said. Let them suffer their own method.

We have to avoid them, Sally said. We must avoid being found out. If they come here, I will deal with them.

By doing what? Lorene said.

By being one of them, Sally smirked. I will pretend to be a Christian, as repulsive as that may sound. It has to be done. Satan will forgive me, as it is part of the deception. If we do not do this, we cannot continue the Master’s teachings.

Then do it, Lorene said. Wear a nun’s outfit, she giggled.

Don’t get carried away, Sally said. They aren’t that stupid.

Residence of Dennis O’Leary

Greenfield Avenue

Stratford, Connecticut

June, 2003

––––––––

Stratford Police, Carla said in a bored tone when Sally came to the door. Captain Carla Larsen and Detective First Grade Tara Al-Shaziri. Y’all Mrs. O’Leary?

Yes, I am. Got a cow? Carla grinned. Always wanted to ask somebody that.

She’s a Muslim, Sally said, eyeing Tara. She does not believe in Jesus Christ.

We ain’t here for a Sunday revival meetin’, Carla smiled. We want to ask you some questions about your husband.

Of course, Sally said. Come in. I filed a missing persons report about Dennis. Do you have any information? I don’t know what happened to him.

We just caught the case, Carla said. We don’t know anything yet. What did he do for a living?

He managed Sterling House.

He have any bad habits? You know.....gambling, drugs, whores, homosexual encounters, anything like that?

No he did not, Sally snapped.

Just standard questions, Carla sighed. We got no idea why he would be missing. Lots of times a boy runs off with a teenage drug addict with a pair of 38 D’s, she grinned.

Dennis would never do that, Sally said. He loved me, and he loved his god.

Which one? Carla smiled.

There is only one, Sally said, fidgeting in her chair.

Well, that is true, Carla sighed, but the case got nothing to do with religion. We got nobody with a  motive to hurt the boy, so we do not know where to look for him. You got to give us some idea of why he would up and vanish.

Somebody kidnapped him out of the house, Sally said. I came home, and the place smelled of gunpowder. All the windows were open. There were bullet holes all over the place. Wasn’t that in the report?

It was, Carla said as she looked through the report. Says here they was fired from inside the house; .223 caliber. Your husband own a M-16?

No, he did not. He owned no guns. The criminals who kidnapped him probably fired those bullets.

Well, without no gun to match them bullets to, we got nothing to go on. Men do not just up and leave home after a shootout. Somebody did not like your husband, from the looks of things. You got no idea who that would be?

No, I do not. I already told you that.

Just then, Sally’s German Shepherd stuck his head around the corner. He spotted Carla, bared his fangs, and started growling.

Best call off that doggie, Carla grinned, taking out her Colt.

King! Sally yelled. Go lay down! The dog retreated from view. He’s very protective.

Where were the doggie when hubby disappeared? Carla smiled.

At the vet’s, getting his shots.

Got a receipt?

They haven’t mailed me the bill yet. What does that have to do with anything? The dog obviously wasn’t here. If he was, he would have fought for Dennis, and the intruders would have killed him.

Why husband no fight for himself? Tara said. We find no blood, no nothing.

I don’t know; I wasn’t home, Sally said. They probably jumped him from behind. They obviously had guns; he didn’t.

I been jumped from behind, Carla grinned. It were good, too. But that is another story. Y’all got a good book?

I do, Sally said, her eyes darting to a coffee table.

Y’all wanna pray with me for your husband?

No, I do not, Sally snapped. I pray in my own way. You can’t even do your job, and you don’t know my husband. I don’t believe you would be sincere.

Give me your Bible and I will pray alone, Carla nodded.

Sally took the Bible out and threw it at Carla. Knock yourself out.

Y’all got a bad attitude, Carla said as she held the Bible up to her face, then threw it back to Sally. You don’t deserve no prayers. We are leaving. We’ll call you if we find out anything.

I won’t hold my breath, Sally said.

You can hold big camel penis, Tara smiled.

What did you say? Sally shrieked.

Never mind the Ayatollah, Carla smiled. In Eye-ran, that be a term of endearment.

Why we no kill this woman? Tara said as they drove away. This bad person. Tara can tell.

Y’all see the way she handled the Bible? Could barely stand to touch it. Smelled of dog shit, too. She thinks we are a couple of dummies. Let her think so. Then one day, she gets the Home Depot Surprise.

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Residence of Dennis O’Leary

Greenfield Avenue

Stratford, Connecticut

June, 2003

––––––––

Were the police here? Lorene said. I can smell them.

They were; a teeny bopper Captain and a Muslim. They didn’t seem too interested in finding Dennis, Sally  said.

Do you think they are the religious ones who work there?

Could be, Sally said. The younger one asked me to pray for Dennis with her. She didn’t seem very sincere, but cops don’t usually do that.

Then we have to assume the worst," Lorene nodded.

And? Sally said.

We must kill them. In the name of the Master everlasting.

You won’t be everlasting if you kill a cop, Sally said. They don’t know  a thing about us, or Dennis. He’s a missing person, and I’m the distraught wife. So what if they are Jesus believers? It won’t help them at all against us.

Then what shall we do? They will be watching us. I think they may know about what we do.

Then we will continue what we do. If we do not, it will draw even more attention. It is not illegal to speak about alternative religions. We will just have to make sure no cops come into our meetings.

Kirisawa’s Japanese-American Diner

Stratford Avenue

Stratford, Connecticut

June,  2003

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Hello, Round Eye Whore, waitress Betty Lou said,  bowing at Carla. You want eat, or suck dick?

Depends on the price, Carla grinned. And who gets paid. What do y’all got in mind? Servin’ breakfast or bombing another American Navy base?

Me no do this, Betty Lou huffed. Me no born when  Japan do this. Me American, she grinned. Me born in Georgia, you all, she said  as Vito, Harper, and Tracy joined Carla.

You bring Guinea here again? Betty Lou exclaimed, eyeing Vito. Smell bad, and no want to pay to see Tokyo titties.

Shaddup, you Jap bastard, Vito laughed. Youse ain’t got anything I ain’t seen before, or better. Guinea girls have tits, too.

Like this? Betty Lou grinned, yanking open her kimono.

Good Lord Almighty, Carla sighed. You done screwed the pooch on that one, Vito. Onliest gal I ever seen what got titties like that be Licky Lynn, back at my ho-tel in Kansas. Them is some fine titties; and I am an expert on that subject.

Who cares, Vito said. I don’t care what this slant got. My grandfather killed her grandfather on Iwo Jima, he grinned.

My grandfather no that old, Betty Lou snapped. Him born 1938.

Just give us the menus, Tokyo Rose, Vito sighed. And keep your clothes on or I’ll bust you for indecent expository.

You no bust me for shit, Dago, Betty Lou nodded. Need witness. No have.

That be right, Vito, Carla smiled. Nobody here seen a thing. You see anything, Shifty?

Nope, Harper said.

How about you, Chiefy? You see anything?

Nothing, Tracy shrugged. Of course my mem’ry could improve if I don’t get me a free breakfast.

Cheap coppers, Betty Lou huffed. Always on the take.

Consider it a plea bargain ahead of time, Tracy smiled. You broke the law by flashing them big jugs you got. Better you give up some pancakes instead of havin’ to hire some shyster to defend you in court.

This my home, Betty Lou grinned. I live in apartment upstairs. This no public place where Betty Lou is concerned. I can show titties to anybody I want. You want to take on Tommy Tanaka Tajanami? He very good lawyer; he defend me for free. He like big Tokyo titties.

Gal got a good legal point, Carla grinned. And two other good points. It will cost the state  a shit load of money to persecute this case; then she is gonna show up in court and show the evy-dence. No judge on Earth will convict her when he sees them titties.

All right, damn it, Tracy snapped. Just bring me my breakfast. I’ll pay; but it ain’t gonna be in yen, she leered. All you girls care about is your big bazooms. What about this? Tracy smiled as she pulled up her skirt, revealing her long, nylon clad legs. "This is what a boy likes; he can stick his face between