Fight Like A Girl: Carla Larsen Mystery

By charles fisher

Army veteran and West Point Instructor Flannery Quinn is not happy about all the anti-American protests in the country, nor is she happy with corrupt politicians who have a disaster scenario version of America ready to implement. One of seven trained combat snipers, Flannery sets out to change things. Carla hires a new Detective to help her unravel the mystery. Part 1 of 3 novels.

• Language: English
• Publisher: charles fisher
• Release date: Jan 30, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393531012

Book preview

Fight Like A Girl

Kill With No Conscience

Stratford Police Department

900 Longbrook Ave.

Stratford, Connecticut

January, 2008

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Rotten, no good stink-ass rat faced bitch, Harper grumbled as Carla grinned at her.

Now what did she do? Carole sighed. I just know it has to be something disgusting.

Creepo farted in the Fairlane, Harper glowered. Then she locked my door and window. And that wasn’t the worst part; she opened my window an inch before she locked it, so the air flow would carry the stench from her rotten sauerkraut juice sucking ass right past my face. It was awful. I think I have black lung disease now.

Y’all disrespected me, Carla said. Callin’ me a fat sow like you done.

Looked in the mirror lately, lardbag? Harper grinned.

You are gonna be lookin’ for your teeth if you do not stop callin’ me names, Carla said.

The Macaroni Meat Mountain has spoken, Harper said. Fupa, she grinned.

What did you call me, you sawed off little bastard? Carla exclaimed.

Fupa. Fat Upper Pubic Area.

You sayin’ I got a fat pussy? Carla shrieked. You take that back.

Make me, Harper said. Everything else on your roly-poly body is twice as big as it should be; why should your moneymaker be any different, Fatzilla? 

I do not have to take shit from you, Carla huffed. I outrank your scroungy flea bitten ass.

You outweigh me, too, ham smuggler, Harper said.

Butter hog, Carole snorted. How the hell are you going to wrestle Miss Stick Figure over there hauling all that fat around?

I am goin’ on a diet, Carla said. When that pay-per-view comes up I will be my old slender self again.

Unless the whaling crews get you first, Harper muttered. Don’t worry; I’ll have Gooley reinforce the ring, and we can hang a pork roast overhead.

Vito came in and shook his head when he saw Carla.

Cripes, I must be seeing double, he grinned. It’s the Lord of the Onion Rings. Youse is piggified. We gotta butter the friggin’ doors so’s you can get in the building.

I ain’t fat, Carla snapped. I am medium portly.

Your shadow weighs more than me, Harper grinned. When we fight, I’ll have the referee lure you into the ring with a Moon Pie.

Them are good eatin’, Carla grinned. I could go for one of them.

Looks like youse went for about forty of the  things, Vito said. And thirty  nine of ‘em is still on your ass.

That’s it, Carla snapped. I ain’t eatin’ nothin’ again, she said as she filled her dog bowl with spaghetti and meatballs. I will start my diet right after this here snack, she grinned.

Two pounds of spaghetti isn’t a snack, Carole said. It’s dinner for an average family.

Well, I am not average, Carla mumbled as she stuffed her face. We got anything goin’ on in town?

Some Chief of Detectives you are, Carole said. Don’t you ever read the wire?

She would if she could read, Harper grinned. You all.

I kin read your horse-piddle report when I put your ass in the I.U.D after we fight, Carla nodded.

That’s I.C.U, Carole said.

I see you too, you old bastard, Carla said. And you ain’t got no better lookin’ since the last look I had.

There are some people who aren’t too happy about the Kennedy case, Carole said. There have been some minor riots in Texas.

Fuck Texas, Carla said. I do not live there, and I ain’t going back there. Neither is ugly assed Audrey.

You’re just jealous of me, Harper said, looking up. I look like a famous movie actress; Audrey Hepburn. You look like the main attraction at Sea World.

Do not, Carla said as she let out a roaring belch. I am beautiful. I got manners, edgy-cation, and class, too, she grinned.

Spell your last name, Harper said.

I ain’t got time for tricks, Harpo. Just remember who got the smarts in this here outfit.

Check out the riots, Carole sighed. It’s spreading around the country.

So is Carla, Harper giggled. At a hundred bucks a shot.

Shit on you, Humper. Talk about jealous; last thing you had in your snapper were a cotton pony.

Last thing you had in yours was the 82nd Airborne, Harper grinned.

That is because I am a patriot, Carla huffed. I did not even charge the boys.

Quinn Residence

280 Canyonwood Court

Brentwood, California

March, 1988

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Get up! Erin Quinn yelled. You’ll be late for school!

I can’t move, seventeen year old Flannery Quinn mumbled. I’m in too much pain.

Well now, Missy; ya thought it was such a good idea to go out for the track team; now you can pay the price. I told ya what the trainin’ is like but no; accordin’ to you, your Ma don’t know shit. Now you get your ass out of that bed or I will make you do so. Move it, girl.

I’m dying, Flannery muttered as she managed to get out of bed. I can’t feel my legs.

You’re gonna feel me fist across your face, Erin said as she lit a Marlboro and poured herself a shot of Jameson’s Irish Whiskey.

Smoking is bad for you, Flannery said. So is whiskey.

Ain’t as bad as what’s gonna happen to you if you don’t catch that school bus, Erin said. You will walk two miles to school.

You can give me a ride in your fancy assed Jaguar, Flannery said.

Aye, I could, but I will not. Time you learned some responsibility. Now get dressed.

Why me, Flannery grumbled as she put on her uniform. I hate Catholic School. I look like a porno fantasy in this stupid schoolgirl  outfit; all the girls have to duck having everybody stick their hands up your skirt.

What? Erin exclaimed. You never said that before. Them boys touch you, I want their names. I will fix them real good.

This isn’t the Irish Republican Army, Flannery said as she put on her plaid necktie. What are you going to do, blow up the school?

I might, Erin grinned. Wouldn’t be the first time I done that. They English?

No, they are not English, Wilma Wallace. They’re Irish. What, you didn’t think Irish priests could be corrupt? Wake up and smell the dirty panties they steal from the girls’ laundry.

You mind your Ps and Qs, girl. Do not be making accusations against the clergy.

And if I can prove them? Flannery said.

Then we got a problem, Erin said. Now get off to school, and do not quit track. Quinns never quit anything.

Sisters of the Poor Catholic School

1100 Empire Avenue

Brentwood, California

March, 1988

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Thought it would be easy, didn’t you, Brother Sheamus McGuire sneered as he peered down the front of Lynn O’Malley’s blouse. She was in the front leaning rest pushup position.  You little tramps and whores have no place on a man’s track team, and I am going to teach you that. You will quit, and I will make you.

I’m going to kill that cocksucker when this school year is over, Debbie O’Reilly said to Flannery, who was next to her.

I’ll help you, Flannery said.

Stop talking! McGuire yelled. You two .... fifty extra pushups. If you can’t  do them, too bad for you; you’ll be  off the team. As if we need you to distract  the boys with your curvy asses and big tits.

I bet he’s more distracted by the boys than he is by us, Debbie said as she pushed away. Fucking faggot asshole.

You there, McGuire smiled as they finished. Quinn, isn’t it?

Yes, Brother, Flannery said.

I don’t like your form. You are a slacker. Fifty more pushups, and keep your back straight.

Yes, Brother, Flannery said as the pain rocketed through her body. God bless you, Brother.

Now you’re learning, McGuire said. I am a man of God, and you are an ignorant female who serves no purpose in this world other than to marry a Catholic man and bear his male children. God is a man, and so was Jesus. The only women in the Bible were whores and pigs who had no value other than their ability to bear children. Did you know that in ancient times they drowned female children? McGuire smiled. Too bad they didn’t drown you and your friend. Keep pushing, he said. Pretend your boyfriend is under you.

Oh boy, he’s going to pay big time for that bullshit, Debbie said.

Just take it, Flannery said. Don’t quit. Don’t give him the satisfaction.

I wouldn’t dream of quitting, Debbie said. No fucking way. I ran track three years. I am staying on  this team, and we are going to kill that son of a bitch. After we graduate, I’m joining the Army. You wanna go with me?

Flannery thought for  a long minute. I’ll do it, she said. It can’t be any worse than this horse shit.

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Sisters of the Poor Catholic School

1100 Empire Avenue

Brentwood, California

April, 1988

First outside practice, Billy Williams grinned at Debbie as they warmed up. You douche bags actually made it through the first month. Now let’s see how you stack up against men. You stack up pretty good otherwise, he leered. After you come in last in time trials, I might let you blow me. Do you swallow?

Let’s go behind the equipment shed, Debbie smiled, and I’ll show you. I bet you have a big one.

I do, Billy nodded. Okay, let’s go. We have ten minutes before time trials start. That’s all you’re worth anyway, but I’ll give you a chance to show me what you can do. If I like the way you suck, I’ll take you to the drive-in Friday night and fuck you in the ass. You pay, of course.

Of course, Debbie smiled. It would be my honor.

They went behind the equipment shed at the end of the field and Billy dropped his shorts, revealing a less than stellar member.

Is that it? Debbie giggled, pointing at Billy’s groin. I thought I was the girl. Looks like I was wrong.

What did you say, you cheap tramp? Billy exclaimed.

I said you’re a no dick, ugly, freckled redheaded asshole, Debbie smiled. Can you actually pee standing up with that thing? Our Chihuahua has more than you.

Billy grabbed Debbie by the hair and shoved her face into his crotch. Suck it, he growled. And do a good job if you want to live.

Okay, Debbie cried. Don’t hurt me.

Now you’re talking, Billy said.

One minute later, Billy was staring at horror at his own bloody severed penis, which was being shoved in his face by Debbie. She had a bloody razor in her other hand.

How do you like that, you stupid douche bag? Debbie grinned as blood squirted everywhere.

Billy started to scream, but Debbie clamped her hand over his mouth and choked it off. She slashed Billy’s throat and jumped back as the arterial spray missed her by inches. Billy spun around in circles, clutching his throat.

Come on, she grinned, beckoning to him with her hand as he stumbled around. You’re no Daisy. Bet you wish you never fucked with me, huh? Don’t worry; you won’t be alone in Hell. I’m going to kill your stupid fucking brother next so you can have some company.

Where’s Billy? Flannery grinned when Debbie snuck back to practice.

Right where he belongs, Debbie nodded. His brother is next. I’m serious about the Army; we can kick ass and take names legally.

Sisters of the Poor Catholic School

1100 Empire Avenue

Brentwood, California

April, 1988

I know those fucking girls had something to do with Billy getting chopped up like that, Connor Williams said to his friend Carl as they left math class. They didn’t see Debbie walking up behind them.

I’m gonna investigate this myself, Connor nodded. I seen L.A. Law.

You can do it, Carl said. You got brains. I got Chemistry class now, he grinned. See you later. We’ll go out for burgers.

Debbie looked around as they all rounded a corner; for one brief instant, there was nobody behind her. Thirty seconds later, Connor was bouncing off the walls, two inches of an ice pick sticking out of his forehead. He collapsed and died in the hallway. Debbie disappeared into the girls’ bathroom.

The next day, the Chemistry genius asked Debbie to go out with him.

Sure, she smiled. I’d love to go out with you. We’re going to have sex, right?

Yeah, he grinned. Of course. See you at seven.

Yes you will, Debbie smiled to herself. And about sex ... somebody is going to get fucked for sure.

They found Carl’s car in a remote area two days later. They never found Carl.

You better cut the shit, Flannery said to Debbie after she saw a police car in front of the high school. This is bringing the heat. That’s two dead kids and one missing.

Three dead kids, Debbie grinned. They just didn’t look in the right septic tank.

During first period, they called Flannery to the office. Brother McGuire was standing next to a big state cop.

Okay, Miss Track Star; do you know anything about the murder of the Williams brothers?

No, Brother, I do not. I was in Algebra class when Connor was killed, and I was taking practice on the field when Billy was killed. I’m sure you saw me there.

I did, McGuire said. What about Carl Tenney? He’s missing. They found his car in the woods ten miles from his house.

I don’t know anything about him, Flannery said. I’ve never even spoken to him.

All right; send that little tramp O’Reilly in here.

Yes, Brother. God bless you, Brother. Flannery curtsied slightly and left.

Doesn’t look like a killer to me, the big cop smiled.

Maybe not, but all these pigs talk to each other. One of them did this; you can bet on it. Cutting off a man’s penis is a girl’s way of getting revenge for something. Men don’t do that to each other.

Ouch, the cop grinned, his hand instinctively going to the front of his pants. Don’t tell my wife about this.

Debbie came in a few minutes later. What do you want, McGuire? she said.

You will address  me as Brother, McGuire snapped.

Ooooooh, Brother; whip me, Daddy, Debbie grinned. How’s that?

That’s worth a week’s suspension, McGuire smirked. Which means you won’t be able to take track, which means you’re off the team. Do you have anything else to say?

Yeah, Debbie grinned. My old man is going to donate another million dollars to the endowment fund next month. You suspend me and you can kiss that check good-bye.

Considering your lack of civility and respect, you may have another chance. Perhaps the nuns can beat some sense into you.

Don’t bet your last nickel of my father’s money on that, Debbie said. Hey, Deputy Dawg; is it legal for staff to beat the shit out of students?

Uh, no, that would be assault.

So if one of McGuire’s penguins tries to kick my ass, I can legally defend myself then, right?

I would say so, the Trooper said. You don’t authorize beatings here, do you, McGuire?

No. A rap on the knuckles with a ruler is hardly a beating.

What about Jack Marchetti? Debbie smiled. One of the penguins yanked him out of his seat by his necktie, and the thing tightened up so much they couldn’t get it undone. The janitor cut it off with a jackknife, along with a hunk of the kid’s skin, after he started to turn blue.

That was an accident, McGuire snapped. Marchetti is a miscreant, just like you. If you little bastards would behave like normal humans, there wouldn’t be any need for discipline.

Just be advised, McGuire, I’m not taking any shit from you or anybody else in here.

Why are you even here? McGuire said. You should be in some public school, with the rest of the riff raff.

Daddy wouldn’t let me go to public school, Debbie smirked. He’s like you; he thinks he’s better than everybody else. He went to school here, so I have to go to school here.

Lucky us, McGuire said. What do you know about these murders and disappearances?

Nothing, Debbie grinned. Nothing at all. Is there anything else? It’s almost lunch time.

That’s about what I’d expect from you. Somebody in this place is going to talk; girls are natural born gossips.

What makes you think it was a girl? Maybe you did it to cover up your homosexual tendencies.

Get out, McGuire hissed. That remark will cost you a week in detention.

I refuse, Debbie said. You want me in detention? Come get me in person and make me go.

Just leave, McGuire sighed. I’ve had all I can take of you.

There’s more, Debbie smiled. Lots more.

Sisters of the Poor Catholic School

Class Graduation

1100 Empire Avenue

Brentwood, California

June, 1988

Flannery Elizabeth Quinn, the nun intoned. Class Valedictorian, and high letter in track.

Flannery came up to the stage and accepted her diploma from the snooty nun.

Would you like to make a speech? the nun smirked.

No thank you, Sister, Flannery smiled. God bless you, Sister. She took her diploma and sat down.

What an ass kisser you are, Debbie whispered as Flannery sat down.

Maybe, but I never had three nuns drag me into the girls’ bathroom and whip my ass, she smiled.

You seem to forget that two of those nuns had some non-scheduled dental work performed on them during that beat down, and the third one will never use her left arm again. All three of them retired that week.

You’re too in their face, Flannery said. If somebody farts in this place, they suspect you.

And nobody has the balls to do anything about it, Debbie said as the nun called her name.

Deborah Jane O’Reilly, she said with disdain. Debbie went up and took the diploma.

What are you looking at, Twisted Sister? Debbie said. Want a shot at the title like Sister No Teeth had?

Take your diploma and leave, the nun snapped. The school will be much better off without you.

You were behind that assault on me, weren’t you, Debbie nodded. This is for you. She hawked up a mouthful and spat it into the nun’s face. I’ll be here for a while if you want to do something about that. She went back to her seat. The nun left the stage and was replaced by another one.

We have to go to the recruiting center tomorrow, Debbie whispered. Then we take care of McGuire.

What are we going to do in the Army? Flannery said. I don’t know shit about the military.

Infantry, Debbie whispered. The Infantry gets to kill people.

I never killed anybody, Flannery said.

You will; I have, and it’s a lot of fun to stare into the face of somebody who hates you and watch their lights go out. You need to get blooded, kiddo. You do McGuire. You got a problem with that? If you do, go join the fucking Girl Scouts.

I’ll do it, Flannery nodded. I hate that cocksucker. He’s going to suffer, too.

Now you’re talking, Debbie said. Spoken like a true psycho.

Sisters of the Poor Catholic School

Staff Rectory / Residence

1100 Empire Avenue

Brentwood, California

June, 1988

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His window is open, Debbie whispered. You know what to do?

Yes, Flannery said. The two girls were dressed in black fatigues, and had camouflage  smeared on their faces. Just watch my back.

Always, Debbie said. Go get him. Make it fast. Speed counts in combat.

Flannery picked up the aluminum ladder, which they had painted black, and ran for the rectory. She put the ladder up against the wall just below the second floor window and quickly climbed up. McGuire was sitting on the edge of his bed, watching a gay porn movie. She slipped through the window and put him in a choke lock before he could react.

Hi, she whispered. Guess who. She spun McGuire around and karate chopped him hard across the throat; she then grabbed him by the hair and threw him out the window. He landed in a heap, breaking his jaw and one of his legs. Debbie grabbed him and dragged him over to the parking lot.

Leave the ladder; let’s get the hell out of here.

McGuire regained consciousness tied to a chair in an old  barn in West Hartley. He looked around in terror. You’ll never get away with this, he mumbled through his shattered jaw.

Wrong again, Debbie said. So we’re pigs and whores, are we? We’re only fit to bear children for assholes like you? Welcome to our world, pal. You just graduated to the head of the class. She handed Flannery a military bayonet. Do it, she said. Make him pay.

McGuire looked at Flannery in utter terror as she stared into his eyes. That would be the last thing he saw in this world.

Basic Combat Training Reception Station

United States Army

Fort Benning, Georgia

July, 1988

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You will toe that chalk line and stand at attention! Sergeant First Class Mabel Pollard yelled. You will keep your dirty mouths shut, and you will only speak when spoken to! She strolled up and down in front of the new trainees, who had just gotten off the bus. You will call me Drill Sergeant, she nodded. Anybody who calls me Sarge, Sergeant, or Nigger will get an ass kicking.

How about Superspade? somebody called out.

Who said that! Pollard roared.

Me, Debbie grinned. Just kidding, Drill Sergeant.

You’re a fucking wiseass, ain’t you, Pollard smiled as she confronted Debbie. That asshole remark will cost you fifty pushups. Get down in the front leaning rest position and push Georgia away.

Which hand, Drill Sergeant? Debbie said.

What? Pollard exclaimed. What you mean, which hand?

Left hand or right? Debbie said. Both hands is too easy.

Right hand, Pollard smiled. For every one you can’t do, you owe me a day in K.P. Get to it, big mouth. Count ‘em off, too. One, Drill Sergeant, two Drill Sergeant; like that. Sergeant Wallings will watch you.

A skinny young black female Staff Sergeant came over and stared at Debbie.

Somethin’ wrong with you, White Bread? she said. You flunk your hearing test at the AFEES Station? Get your ass on that tarmac.

Palm or knuckles, Drill Sergeant? Debbie grinned.

Knuckles what? I will put five knuckles across yo lips, she nodded. What you mean?

Do you want me to do them on the palm of my hand, or the knuckles? Knuckle pushups are  harder, Drill Sergeant.

You can do ‘em on your fuckin’ face for all I care, Wallings nodded. Just do ‘em some fuckin’ time this week. We got shit to do here.

Debbie knocked out the fifty on the knuckles of her right hand, stood up, and assumed her position in the squad.

What the fuck do you think you are doing? Pollard yelled. Did somebody tell you to stand your dumb white ass up, girl?

Uh, no, Drill Sergeant. I thought ....

You do not think here! Pollard yelled. If Uncle Sam wanted you to think he would have issued you a fuckin’ brain! Now give me another fifty, and this time ask permission to get back up!

Debbie did the fifty and asked for permission to get up.

No! Wallings snapped. You say it like this; permission to recover, Drill Sergeant.

Come on, Debbie laughed. Are you people for real? How the hell am I supposed to know what to say? I never been in the Army before.

Wallings then did something that the other girls couldn’t believe; she hauled Debbie to her feet and sucker punched her in the stomach as hard as she could.

You think we’re for real now, you smart mouthed motherfucker? she yelled as Debbie fought to stay standing.

That’s enough, Sergeant! Pollard yelled. Everybody inside and stand at the tables.

Debbie rubbed her stomach and glared at Wallings as she headed inside.

You bad eye me, bitch? Wallings yelled. You do not want to do that, girl. That is real bad for your health.

A male Captain came out and faced the platoon.

I am Captain Collier. I am the Reception Station Commanding Officer. He walked past Debbie and stopped. Are you sick, Private?" he said when he saw the green look on her face.

No Sir, Debbie said. Only her karate training had prevented her from really getting hurt when Wallings punched her. Just nervous.

Oh. That’s normal for your first day. You’ll get used to it. Everybody empty your bags and pockets onto the table.

Pollard and Wallings walked up and down, grabbing items off the tables. They threw most of them in the garbage. Wallings held up a pack of condoms in front of one girl’s face.

You planning on gettin’ laid tonight, Honky? she sneered.

No, Drill Sergeant, the girl muttered.

I can’t hear you! Sound off like you got a pair! Wallings yelled.

No, Drill Sergeant! the girl yelled.

Wallings continued on until she came to Debbie. Where’s your shit? she said.

I’m looking at it, Debbie smirked.

You want some more? Wallings said, holding up her fist. Next time you sass me, you gonna spend time in the infirmary.

Pretty brave when your opponent isn’t looking, huh, Drill Sergeant, Debbie said. You get a medal for that?

I am going to make you wish you joined the fuckin’ Navy, asshole, Wallings nodded. We go with you to basic training after you leave here; you ain’t gonna get new Drill Sergeants. You gonna get me, and you ain’t gonna like it.

Do we get to study hand to hand combat, Drill Sergeant? Debbie grinned.

Yeah, and guess who teaches it, Wallings said. What you smiling at? I say something funny?

No, Drill Sergeant. How does it work? We get to fight you?

You get to have your white ass beat half to death is what you gonna get, Wallings nodded. Now where’s your stuff?

I didn’t bring anything, Drill Sergeant, Debbie said. The recruiter said not to bother because they’ll just take it away from you.

You listen to me, jerkoff, and you listen good, Wallings said, putting her nose against Debbie’s. I do not like you. I seen a lot of assholes come through here, and you are one of  the worst. You got a bad fuckin’ attitude; next time you smile at me, you are gonna get to meet the Post Dentist. You hear me, girl?

Yes, Drill Sergeant.

Good. Now we understand each other. Go get your gear.

They went to Quartermaster, where they were issued uniforms, boots, and some other items.

You better cut the shit, Flannery whispered to Debbie. That Sergeant is going to make you wish you were never born.

We’ll see about that, Debbie said. That fucking monkey is going to get hers. Wait until we have hand to hand; I’m going to be the first one to volunteer, and she is going to the fucking hospital.

How do you know what she can do? You watched too many movies.

I’m a sixth degree black belt, Debbie said. I don’t care what she knows. I’m going to kick her nigger ass.

They have guns, Flannery grinned. We don’t.

They got shit. Nobody is armed on an Army base except the M.P.s.

They spent the next three days learning basic crap like how to salute, the code of conduct,