Dutch Chocolate6: Shutdown or Shutout, the Pirellis’ Story

By B.L Wilson

In the sixth novel of the Dutch Chocolate action series, the Pirelli brothers, Tony and Angelo, don’t know it, but they are about to be targeted for death. Former law enforcement officials, now in a gang, that the brothers testified against, have been released. The gang has vowed to kill the Pirellis.
Meanwhile, love is in the air as each Pirelli brother meets the woman of his dreams, and each relationship is as tumultuous as their lives are about to become.
Will the brothers be able to outrun and outgun the gang members? Or will they end up in trouble again, with their hopes and dreams destroyed?
Find out in Dutch Chocolate6: Shutdown or Shutout? The Pirellis’ story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: B.L Wilson
• Release date: Sep 2, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215998458

B.L Wilson

B.L. has always been in love with books and the words in them. She never thought she could create something with the words she knew. When she read ‘To Kill A Mocking Bird,’ she realized everyday experiences could be written about in a powerful, memorable way. She wasn’t quite sure what to do with that knowledge so she kept on reading.Walter Mosley’s short stories about Easy Rawlins and his friends encouraged BL to start writing in earnest. She felt she had a story to tell...maybe several of them. She’d always kept a diary of some sort, scraps of paper, pocketsize, notepads, blank backs of agency forms, or in the margins of books. It was her habit to make these little notes to herself. She thought someday she’d make them into a book.She wrote a workplace memoir based on the people she met during her 20 years as a property manager of city-owned buildings. Writing the memoir, led her to consider writing books that were not job-related. Once again, she did...producing romance novels with African American lesbians as main characters. She wrote the novels because she couldn’t find stories that matched who she wanted to read about ...over forty, African American and female.

Book preview

Prelude: Trials, liars and promises of death.

Twelve years ago, in a courtroom in downtown Manhattan, a criminal trial proceeded against six murderous street cops. It was part one of three trials. The next two trials also consisted of six more dirty cops per trial. The key witnesses were also dirty cops. According to the DA’s office, it took a dirty cop to catch a dirty cop. His two dirty cops caught eighteen other dirty cops. He decided it was a pretty good catch that should get him reelected.

"Let’s see if I can sum up your actions for the jury. Patrolman Pirelli, you and your brother witnessed the killing of a CI. You did nothing, right? You and your brother witnessed drugs being mixed in a series of secret underground warehouses. Your brother and you witnessed those same drugs being packaged. You and your brother did nothing, right? You and your brother were there for discussions of where to hide the drugs for transport. Neither you nor your brother, the sergeant, made any calls to report what you saw or heard, did you?

With your helpful suggestions, drugs were hidden in car parts, works of art, children’s toys, women’s perfumes, bubble baths, body powder, women’s makeup, men colognes, shaving powders, talcum powders, body oils, and deodorants. You and you brother helped count and then transport the drugs. Neither you nor your brother reported any of it as it was happening, did you?

The female defense attorney managed to look disgusted as she summed up the key witness’s actions or lack of them. It was a matter of playacting for the jury. You’re a police officer witnessing a series of crimes, from murder to drug distribution. Neither you nor your brother did anything to prevent any of it until you were caught. Isn’t that right, ex-Patrolman Pirelli?

I object, Your Honor. Is that a question or is she just riffing? ADA Jake Ross popped up from his chair at the prosecutor’s table to inquire.

This is a court of law, not a poetry jam. You will treat it as such. Watch your language, Counselor. Criminal Court’s Judge Roy McKay interrupted the defense attorney’s flow to warn the ADA.

Yes, Your Honor. I apologize, Your Honor, ADA Jake Ross remarked. He sat down, waiting to see how the judge would rule.

Objection sustained. Rephrase it, Counselor.

Yes, Your Honor, the female defense attorney remarked. She stepped away from the witness box and strolled over to the jury seats as she thought about how to rephrase the question.

Witness Patrolman Anthony Pirelli stared at the defense attorney with narrowed, ice-blue eyes. His ham-sized fists balled in his lap. He was a large man, built like a Sumo wrestler, without the folds of fat. He was dressed in a suit and tie to make him look less intimidating. It didn’t help. While he was a handsome man, on the witness stand, he was frightening, large and mean-looking. Just now, he looked as if he was ready to break the sturdy chair that he occupied over the female defense counselor’s head.

The female defense attorney decided to try a different tack. How long have you been on the force, Patrolman Pirelli?

Tony Pirelli sighed. Almost seven years.

That’s interesting. Many patrol officers with a brother, a sergeant on the force, would be anxious to move up the career ladder. Why didn’t you apply for the sergeant’s test, Patrolman Pirelli?

Tony Pirelli shrugged. I did.

What happened when you applied?

It’s a civil service test, Ma’am. Thousands … I mean hundreds of my fellow officers applied too.

You don’t have any fellow officers! one of the men sitting at the defense table shouted. As if on cue, the rest of the defendants rose to scream their abusive, threatening two cents as well.

Order in the court! Order! Judge McKay vigorously banged the gavel and kept banging. Order in the court!

You’re an effing rat. NYPD doesn’t hire rats that live long, another defendant yelled.

Snitches get effing stitches, Pirelli.

You gotta sleep sometimes, you effing snitch!

Order in the court! We will have order in my court! Judge McKay raised his voice as he banged his gavel for a long moment until the men at the defense table sat back down. Counselors, get control of your clients or I will control them for you! Bailiff, court officers, if the defendants can’t keep quiet and stay seated, we will remove them and televise the proceedings to holding.

Five court officers hustled over and then spread out to surround the defense table. Arms folded, they remained planted near the defense table to make sure the defendants understood, brother officers or not, court decorum was going to be maintained today.

Angelo Pirelli, Tony’s older brother, sat at the DA’s table, looking worried and angry. He exchanged dirty looks with the men at the defense table who used to be his friends and drinking buddies. He knew how quick shit could happen. He knew how his brother liked to fuck with people. He rose to defend his brother if necessary, until ADA Jake Ross hissed.

Stay seated, Mr. Pirelli. Nothing will happen in here today. There’s too many witnesses. Let the judge and the court officers handle them. With any luck, they’ll be gagged, chained and carted out.

Judge McKay gave the defense attorneys and clients a hard, stern look before he spoke. Let’s see, where were we? Court Reporter?

Court Reporter looked at her transcription. Your Honor, the defense counselor was questioning the current witness.

Judge McKay nodded. Thank you. Counselor for the defense, you may continue.

The female defense attorney walked over to witness box. Let’s see. You said you took the civil service test, Mr. Pirelli. How did you do?

I passed it.

The defense attorney nodded. Don’t be so modest, Mr. Pirelli. You did more than pass it. You scored 100.9% once your army credits were added. How did your interview go, Patrolman Pirelli?

It went okay.

It went better than okay, Mr. Pirelli, didn’t it?

Tony Pirelli shrugged.

Isn’t it true the powers-that-be called you in for a second interview?

Yes.

Why did they call you in for a second interview, Patrolman Pirelli?

Objection, Your Honor. How would he know why his bosses called him for a second interview? He’s not a mind reader. The police department is notorious for saying one thing off the record and the opposite on the record, ADA Jake Ross remarked.

Objection sustained. Rephrase the question, Counselor.

Did the folks… The defense attorney sighed and rephrased the question in her head. Did the police department ever tell you why you weren’t appointed to the position of sergeant, Mr. Pirelli?

Yes, Ma’am, they did.

What did they tell you, Mr. Pirelli?

Tony sighed and rubbed his chin. Shit! Why tell the entire world I’m unfit to serve the public? I plead the 5th.

I object.

Judge McKay held up a hand to the defense, then he covered the microphone in front of him and leaned over to speak with the witness. Mr. Pirelli, your agreement with the DA’s office doesn’t allow you to do that. Unless you want to throw out the entire agreement, answer the defense’s question.

Tony frowned and rubbed his neck. The department thought I wouldn’t make a good sergeant.

Why is that, Mr. Pirelli?

They thought I had trouble following rules.

I believe they said this. I’m reading from a copy of your personnel file. You have it already, Your Honor. It’s exhibit 20. Candidate has difficulty with authority. Does not like to obey rules and regs. Has dated officers above his rank. Has fought with officers above his rank. In two incidents, said candidate had physical altercations with two different sergeants and a lieutenant. The department does not believe the candidate has overcome his difficulties with authority at this time. It is suggested said candidate attend anger management courses and a refresher course in the rules and regs governing NYPD.

The ex-officers at the defense table hooted and hollered.

Hey, Pirelli, you dumb Wop, you’re supposed to do it and not get caught.

Who else did you screw besides your mama, Pirelli?

Order! The court will come to order! The judge banged the gavel and continued to bang it, which the men on both sides of the table ignored. I will have order in my courtroom! Officers, get them out of my courtroom. Take them back to holding, now!

Tony Pirelli stood up, shouting and pointing to his crotch. Eat me, you dumb Mick. Your mama loved it.

Fuck you, mother fucker! One of the defendants tried leap around the court officer to get to Tony Pirelli or his brother.

In all the confusion, one of the other defendants managed to grab a court officer’s gun. He fired several shots at both Pirellis. He missed them but shot a member of the jury in the arm and their own female defense attorney in the shoulder. All hell broke loose after that. The bailiff called for reinforcements as he quickly propelled the judge into his chambers and locked him inside. When he returned, his officers had locked down the courtroom. They finally gained control of the gun and the shooter. The defendants were handcuffed and chained. The gunman had a battered face, black eye, a swollen lip and a broken bloody nose.

Hey, Angelo, you and your piece of shit brother are walking dead men. You’re a dead man. You hear me. You’re fucking dead! the shooter screamed as he was yanked out the rear door. Wherever they fucking put you, you’re dead!

Two EMS techs were waiting outside the rear courtroom door. One of them looked at the wounded, handcuffed defendant. Is it him?

Nope. He’s the shooter. He got that when we subdued him. You got two gunshot victims inside. He shot one of his attorneys in the shoulder. Nicked a juror in the arm.

Jesus! What happens if he loses the case?

I kill the fucking judge and all the fucking jurors, the shooter threatened.

Come on, asshole, before you get beat again. The first court officer yanked the shooter along.

You heard that, EMS. That’s police brutality, the shooter said as if EMS would do something for him.

You are the effing police, asshole, the first court officer reminded his prisoner.

Go on inside, EMS. My guys have it all under control, the second court officer remarked.

Angelo Pirelli stopped the bleeding in the defense attorney’s shoulder by creating a bandage from two hankies and had her apply pressure to her wound. It’s okay, Ma’am. Keep applying pressure ‘til help gets here.

Grimacing with pain, the defense attorney was frightened and in shock. Am I going to die? she whimpered.

Angelo shrugged then sighed softly. Someday, yeah. Just not today, Ma’am.

While his brother Tony was wrapping the juror’s arm in the same necktie he hated wearing today, EMS entered, took over and began to examine the two gunshot victims.

Once the bailiff determined the courtroom was under control again and the victims removed, he escorted Judge McKay back inside. The judge took to his bench and studied the faces of frightened people on both sides of the aisle. The defense attorneys looked as frightened as ADA Jake Ross and his assistants. The remaining jurors looked ready to jump out of the box and head for the nearest subway train. Some jurors were crying. Others were clearly in shock, too stunned to say anything.

Judge McKay eyed both sets of attorneys and then the jury. He grabbed his gavel. In light of the events that occurred here today, I’m declaring a mistrial. Jurors, I thank you for your service. You are dismissed. He sighed as he studied the jurors and thought what a mess this case was. Jurors, I will see how we can compensate you for service above and beyond the call of duty. My office will stay in touch with all of you to see how you are doing. Once again, jurors, you are dismissed. Attorneys, in my office soon as the jurors leave and the court empties. He banged the gavel then rose and left the courtroom. He wished he could do more for the jurors. Nobody should witness an attempted murder in a courtroom, especially in his courtroom.

One: This case from Jake Ross is a doozy.

"Whew! Just a little further," Dutch told herself, gasping for breath in the early morning air. She refused to stop jogging. She jogged around the small park at the bottom of the 145th Street Bridge leading to the South Bronx. At the first traffic light on Malcolm X Blvd, she kept jogging in place until the light turned green. She shook her hands and wound her arms up like a professional pitcher to chase the stiffness from them. Soon as she saw green, she took off like a rocket. Gotta keep going, she chanted in her head. Come on, feet. Keep running. Let’s go, legs. Chest, keep sucking in air. You can do it, she murmured as she set an even pace back to her townhouse and kept jogging along.

Her townhouse was in sight, just a block away. She groaned. One lousy block. Come on, feet, get to moving, she muttered, feeling the sweat dripping down her back to her hips. The wetness tickled when it reached the crack that separated her hip cheeks. She wanted nothing more than to scratch and pat. She decided publicly digging in her ass would look nasty. She’d just have to suffer through it for another block. She could run another block before she collapsed and happily scratched her itchy ass, couldn’t she?

She decided the answer was yes. She waved to a few neighborhood folks as she jogged the last few yards to her townhouse. She kept wiping at the sweat dripping down her forehead to her neck and below. She flopped down on the front stoop of the tiny porch, wiping her forehead on the sleeve of her sweatshirt. She was sweating so much, that wasn’t enough to catch all the perspiration. Then she lifted the hem of her sweatshirt to wipe her neck and face. She rested her head against the cold, wrought-iron banister. Ahh, nice, she muttered with her eyes closed. A few minutes later, she dragged her tired butt inside. She’d shower after she rested in her recliner for a few minutes.

Dutch answered the doorbell of her townhouse wearing sweats, sneakers and a towel around her neck. She was still dripping with sweat. She’d flipped on the spy cameras before she left on her daily run, so she knew who was on her doorstep. She studied the tall, lean Black man in an expensive custom suit carrying a large shopping bag. The suit was charcoal gray. The unbuttoned topcoat matched the suit, as did his gloves and shoes. The contrast was the bright purple, red, and a golden silk scarf around his neck.

Same old Jake; still likes his snappy, color-coordinated clothes, she thought, opening the door. She grinned broadly at former ADA Jake Ross, offering a hand. Jake Ross! How are you? It’s been a long time.

Yes, it has. Jake refused the hand and pulled Dutch into a hug instead. He frowned and held Dutch away from him. You’re soaking wet. You stink too.

Gee, thanks for being so honest, Jake, Dutch remarked, wiping at her sweat with a towel. You try jogging around that park under the bridge and then running back here without breaking a sweat. She paused to give him a hard look. I’m beginning to remember why us cops called you Jackass Jake the Flake.

Jake chuckled then kissed her cheek. I couldn’t resist. Go shower. I’ll make us breakfast.

Oh, please! Unless your wife is hiding in your back pocket, you can’t cook worth a shit, Jake. Dutch noted how he quickly stopped laughing and turned serious. She’d sensed something wrong. She wasn’t sure what.

She took the kids and left me when I was still in the DA’s office, Yoyo.

Nobody calls me that anymore. I go by Dutch now. Dutch sighed. Sorry for what I said. I didn’t know about your wife, Jake.

It’s why I quit the DA’s office. I thought she’d come back if I did that. Jake sighed with regret. It was my last case that scared her so badly. The Pirellis weren’t the only ones those assholes threatened. He shook the shopping bag at Dutch. I got eats in here.

The kitchen is that way, down the hallway and to the right, Dutch remarked. She stuck her head outside, looking both ways before she closed the front door. There was nothing to see. She sighed. She’d been feeling something odd for the past few days she’d spent here reviewing old records and inputting them on flash drives and in the cloud. She passed it off as missing the farmland, Linda, G-Ma and the baby.

Twenty minutes later, Dutch finished showering and walked downstairs from the bedroom into the large, bright kitchen to see what breakfast treats Jake brought with him. She inhaled and then licked her lips. It smelled like cream cheese and bagels with spice coffee. Hopefully, he brought extra jelly and scrambled eggs too from that downtown deli by the courthouse.

She sat down and took a bite of bagel with cream cheese then waved it at Jake. Hmm, this yummy. It’s from the deli by the courthouse, right? She closed her eyes in delight and managed to get cream cheese on her nose and lips. This is so-o-o good. Delicious. Brings back good memories.

Jake sighed and rubbed his neck then fiddled with his napkin. He took several sips of his spice coffee. He studied Dutch, who was ignoring him to enjoy her bagels and eggs. He cleared his throat to get her attention. Yoyo, you’re probably wondering why I’m here today.

Not really. You have a case you want me to take. Tell me about it while I eat.

Yeah, that’s part of it.

Dutch stopped stuffing her face to swallow and wipe her mouth, then speak. And what else, Jake? She studied his face, reading the guilty look suddenly appearing on it. You realize if I took the case, you’d have the Pirellis working for you too. Can you handle that?

That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Can they handle seeing me periodically? Can they handle me hiring you and them to work for me? Jake sighed. I wanted to apologize for what happened years ago with their mother. I was. He paused to think of a good explanation. Oh hell, what happened to them was fucked up. No excuses. It was fucked up! I tried to get the warden to agree to compassionate leave. I wanted them to see their mother before she died and to attend her funeral. He said it was too dangerous because of their testimonies against other cops. He said he couldn’t guarantee their safety. I felt that I could protect them. I’d gotten a crew of officers together who were willing to escort them to and from the hospital and the funeral home.

Dutch finished eating, and licked the cream and jelly from her fingers. I’d heard rumors about your crew. I wasn’t sure it was true ‘til now, Jake.

Six guys and I volunteered to serve as protective escorts for Tony and Angelo. Jake sighed. That crazy case was the main reason my wife took the kids and got the hell out of dodge. I got my share of threats for using the Pirellis as key witnesses. The kicker was when they started calling my wife when I was in court or at the office. They made threats against my wife and my kids. Twice, guys pretended to be me and tried to pick up my kids from school. That’s when my wife decided enough was enough. She left me that night when I wouldn’t quit the goddamn case.

Dutch wiped her hands. Why didn’t your wife come back after the case was over?

She said she couldn’t trust that I wouldn’t take another big case to make my career move upward. She knew how ambitious I was. She was right. At the time, I probably would have taken another career-making case.

I thought you said you quit because of the Pirelli case.

I did, but my wife had already left by the time I finally got smart and quit. Jake sighed with regret. Sometimes, it just ‘be like’ that. You don’t miss ‘em ‘til they’re gone.

Ain’t that the truth, Ruth!

I heard rumors about you too. Finding the VP, that was you and your crew, wasn’t it? And McKay’s faked murder too, right, Yoyo? Jake studied Dutch, who gave a slight shrug.

Rumors are just that, Jake, rumors. Stories that may or may not be true. If any of it were true, I couldn’t violate client privilege to confirm or deny it anyway.

Jake nodded. This case is nothing earth-shattering as those two or the Pirellis’ case. It’s a simple divorce case. My client, a wealthy woman, is divorcing an even wealthier man. She swears he’s hiding something. She thinks it’s a mistress or several of them or money in offshore accounts. She wants our help to find out what he’s hiding so I can make use of it in her divorce case.

It’s sounds easy peasy. What do you need us to do?

Shadow the husband. Do a run on properties, businesses, bank accounts, social media and anything else you and your folks want to check out. My client, the wife, is certain you’ll find something we can use in the divorce to make him settle decently.

Do we meet her or go through you only?

Oh, she wants to meet you and your crew if you take the case. Jake pulled out a flash drive and pushed it toward Dutch. It’s all on here. Read it and let me know if you want the case.

Why us?

I recommended you. Jake rubbed his chin. She seemed to already know about you.

Oh?

She didn’t say how she knew about you. Just that she did.

Hmm. That’s interesting and a bit mysterious. Dutch rose from the table to wash her hands at the kitchen sink. Now, she was curious about the wife. Had they ever met? Did she know her from some other case or maybe in her other life on the police force or overseas in the military intel? She wondered the same thing about the husband. She dried her hands as she considered her options. She wanted to know more about the couple. Maybe with more information, she’d know who the woman was and whether she’d take the case.

If you take the case, you can ask her when you meet her.

Dutch returned to her seat at the kitchen table. She picked up the flash drive and played with it. Come back in an hour or so, Jake. If I decide it’s a go, how soon could I meet her?

How soon can you get your folks together?

Why?

Jake exhaled then studied Dutch’s face when he told her of his client’s conditions. If you take the case, she wants to meet your team ... all of them.

Why?

She didn’t explain. She made that a condition for hire. Jake shrugged. I didn’t press for an explanation.

You know her better than I do. Any ideas on why she’d make meeting my crew a condition? I mean, she is legit, right, Jake?

Yep. She’s legit and so is her husband far as I know. I figured you all would fill in the blanks during the investigation.

Dutch rose and took the flash drive. You can wait here if you want. Or in my living room. I’ve got cable, video games, books, magazines, movies, another desktop.

How about a comfortable couch or a recliner?

Yep. I got both. Follow me.

Dutch started to reflect on the case while she plugged the flash drive into her desktop. She left Jake comfortably ensconced on her long couch. He’d picked a magazine to read while she went her office in the rear of the townhouse. The main reason she agreed to see Jake was Viola. She called on the way to the airport to explain her out-of-town police brutality case was taking longer than she thought. Viola said she couldn’t handle both cases. Viola asked Jake to replace her and he agreed to do so.

Dutch also loved the Robin Hood aspect of the work Viola and Jake did. They both took on wealthy clients so they could do pro bono work for abused wives and domestic partners who couldn’t otherwise pay for their services.

She clicked on the file and watched it open. The file contained a form the wife filled out with basic contact information, such as addresses and phone numbers. It listed her married name, her maiden name, any names she used in business or in her personal life, such as nicknames. It listed the wife’s mother’s maiden name and her grandmother’s maiden name. The form asked for the same information on her husband’s family. There was a spot for children’s full names, dates of birth and addresses if they didn’t live with either parent.

The rest of the forms asked for financial information, bank accounts, credit and debit cards, properties, meaning both business and residential, business entities, current or old investments and projects, and current or old debts. Dutch noticed how the financial information went back twenty-five to thirty years. It was good that the wife knew that much about her husband’s businesses. The forms gave them enough to start checking and verifying all of it.

She continued to read the file. The rest of the file contained the wife’s interview and story as an audio file and a readable transcript. It told why she decided to divorce her husband. The couple had been married for almost seventeen years. The wife claimed it had been a loving fifteen years. The last two years had been holy hell. Her husband moved out of their master bedroom. She now slept alone in their king-size bed. They hadn’t had sex in two years.

Her attempts to seduce her husband had been met with typical responses. I’m too tired. Let’s do this when I’m not tired. Can’t you wait until tomorrow? Let’s talk about this in the morning. The morning talk never happened because the husband left early the next morning and stayed out until she was asleep the next night.

When she approached him to ask, What’s going on? the husband complained she was being overly sensitive. Or she was imagining things. When she suggested they attend marriage counseling sessions, he agreed. Then he showed up late for the sessions with business appointment excuses; or he forgot; or he simply didn’t show up, never offering any excuse. Or he was sullen and didn’t participate when he attended the sessions. The wife claimed he did all of it with no clear explanation.

The one thing the wife said was unforgiveable was her husband’s dishonesty. They had always been honest with each other no matter how it hurt. They told the truth to each other. Her gut said he was hiding something. His actions confirmed it. She wanted to know what it was. She understood his job as a developer and architect called for irregular hours for meeting with and schmoozing wealthy friends, relatives, investors, construction trade folks, his various developmental partners and others related to his projects, but this was more than job-related. She claimed she could handle whatever it was because it had been going on for two long years. She was sick of whatever it was, and her husband. She wanted to make sure she received her due justice. She sat back in her desk chair, rocking as she thought about what she read. She bounced one of the kids’ balls off the wall and caught it repeatedly.

You make me curious, Mrs. Clayton. I’d like to meet you before I firmly commit. You have my attention, Dutch remarked. She stopped reading to rise from her chair to find Jake and almost bumped into him at the door.

Jake studied her face and grinned. You’re taking the case, huh?

Nope. I want to meet her first before I say yes. If she wants to meet my staff, that’s okay too.

How soon are we talking about?

I’ll put in the call to get them here tonight. We’ll set up the meeting for tomorrow in the late morning or early afternoon.

Jake grinned. I’ll tell her. He studied Dutch’s face. Why did you decide to meet her?

Dutch shrugged. I’m not sure. It felt like the right thing to do. I guess I’m curious to meet her too.

Jake gave her a hug as they walked to the front door. I’ll bring her. How’s two o’clock sound?

Dutch nodded. Great. See you then. She watched as Jake walked down the porch stairs and over to the rear parking lot for visitors. Curious to see what he drove, she left the door unlocked and stepped outside to see. She whistled when he slipped into a silver-gray Mercedes S-Class sedan. Nice jump from a used Prius to a hundred-thousand-dollar Merc, Jake. I hope the job change was worth it.

Two: What happened to the years in between now and then?

ER nurse Dora Day woke up to rain splattering against the bedroom windows. She sat up quickly. Did she remember to close the windows in the living room and dining room? Aw shit! She always left the kitchen windows open for the fresh, sweet air after the rain but not during the storm. She glanced at the spot were Viola should be sleeping. The baby’s crib was empty too. Last night, she picked her wife up at the small private airfield one county over. This last case had taken her out of town for six weeks. Viola almost missed the baby’s first birthday. And Viola still hadn’t finished the case. She climbed out of the bed to see where her wife and her son were this rainy morning.

She strode to the baby’s pale green bedroom with all the circus and sea animals on the walls. She, Bonita and Dutch got wasted one night. Afraid they were too drunk to use a ladder properly, they stood on each other’s shoulders to paint stars and planets on the ceiling. She stood grinning at the whimsical nature of the room. This was the result. Neither Viola, Linda nor Lottie believed they didn’t hire a local artist to do it. She noted the windows were closed, but the room was empty. The brightly colored rocking