Dick, Part III
My friend the detective called me at about 8 AM the following morning.
One of the reasons I quit the force all those years ago is because
the hours just killed me.
"Found the girl's body. Pretty ugly, looks like someone dumped her
off the pier, but she got tangled up in some rope or tackle or
something. She was caught on the dock when we found her. Neighbors
came down and identified her. Stop by the jazz club last night?"
"Yeah."
"See the ex-boyfriend?"
"No comment."
"Come on now, Dick, lying to a cop is a crime. Think he did it?"
"Not sure."
"Well, we're out looking for him now."
"What do you know about the girl?" I asked.
"Not much. She's here legally on a work visa. We know where she came
from, some stuff about her life in New York, but that's it as of now."
"Anyone else in her life? Family, friends?"
"Not sure. We're checking up on that now."
We talked a bit longer, then hung up.
Billy had told a good story the other night, but rotting corpses speak
louder than words. Still, I wanted to believe him. The only missing
piece to it all was the sister. I was still kicking myself for not
asking Billy for her address, though I assume her apartment was his
first stop after running out of the club.
After getting myself out of bed and through a cup of coffee, I noticed
the envelope of picture shreddings I had taken from Angelina's
apartment, and a thought occurred to me. It was a long shot, but if
there was any validity to Billy's story, it would probably mean two
things: 1) that Angelina had been tearing up any photos that had to do
with her relationship, and 2) that would include not only pictures of
Billy, but also of her sister. Maybe a picture of the sister would
jog someone's memory--the band, Angelina's neighbors, whoever. Get
people talking.
I took out the envelope and dumped the photo scraps on my desk. Like
I said, most of the pictures looked as if they had been taken in
Central Park near Belvedere Castle, and looking over the pieces, there
seemed to only be pictures of Billy and Angelina. In fact, something
looked out of sorts --" there were more Angelina heads than there were
Billy heads --"
I started to put together one of the pictures. A few minutes later, I
had assembled enough to know the answer to everything.
The picture showed Billy leaning against a wall of the castle, showing
off his teeth. In his left arm was Angelina. In his right arm was
also Angelina.
Angelina's sister Tina was her twin. Billy had ditched Angelina for
her twin sister.
I had to catch Angelina before she disappeared forever, and there was
a chance I knew where she might go.
---
The police had long since finished their investigation of Angelina's
apartment. A few lines of police tape were still draped over the door
knob, and I left them in place as I picked the lock. Once inside, I
fed the cat, then took a seat in her bedroom and waited.
Two hours later, the door slowly opened. A woman dressed in black,
with glasses and a large hat entered the room. She shut the door
behind her, then glanced around the kitchen and living room. Seeing
no one, she burst into action and began searching both rooms for
something. Amused at her stupidity, I watched her for a few minutes,
then came out of the bedroom.
"You know," I said loudly, startling her. "I hate being used."
Angelina started for her purse but I pulled out my .45 before she
could get the zipper undone.
"What the fuck are you doing?" she shrieked. "You work for me!"
"There's one clause that renders my contract void, and that's when I
find out I'm being used." She shrank back against the couch. The cat
came over to me, and I hefted him onto my lap.
"So let me just make sure I understand everything clearly," I said.
"Billy dumps you for your twin sister. You are furious. You try to
get him back, but they both ignore you. You plot your revenge. You
kill your sister, make it look like it's you that's been murdered,
then implicate Billy as the killer. Your plan is to run back to Italy
while the cops are trying to figure out what happened. Once out of
the country, it'll be a while before they figure out a twin exists
somewhere. In the meantime, Billy is the perfect guy to take the rap.
I won't go into the added benefit you'd have with a jury when they
have to judge a black guy for killing a sweet, beautiful white girl.
Then, you hire me to put all the pieces together and tell the cops
that my client was killed by her ex-boyfriend. Did I miss anything?"
She stared at me, shaking with rage but keeping absolutely silent.
"Didn't think so. Two mistakes. First, if you leave your plane
ticket at the crime scene, just buy a new one. Don't come back for
it." I held up the plane ticket for her to see, and the look of shock
that crossed her face was priceless. "Two, don't hire a private dick
who's as smart as he is handsome." No reply to that one. None
needed.
With my gun still trained on her, I called the cops.
---
No happy ending to the story. Turns out, Billy was going to marry
Tina before Angelina killed her and tied her body to the pier (yes,
that was intentional). As of now, there's no way to reverse what
doctor's refer to as rotting corpse syndrome, so Billy is going to
have to cry, write some great jazz numbers about what happened, then
ultimately get over it. Angelina got punished pretty damn severely.
There was always enough evidence to link her to the case. However, if
she had got back to Italy, there's a very good chance no one would
have ever seen her again, and Billy might be in jail now.
As for me, the greatest tragedy of all: I didn't get paid, as my
client turned out to be a murderer. It happens, though a lot less
since this case. I'm much less willing to take on a case for any
reason these days other than the payoff (pretty face or not). I
realize that a lot of people think I have no morals or ethics, and am
only in this for the money. These two statements are both true and
false. I have morals and ethics, but when it comes to my work, they
have no place save for helping me look out for my own welfare. As for
the financial side, the money is good, but there are other reasons.
I'll explain them sometime, but it requires telling at least one case,
maybe more.
However, that's not to say it was a total net loss. In lieu of
payment, I decided to take her kitten, who is named Sammy (that is the
one true name I will ever give in any of my stories; at least, until
Sammy verbally complains). My secretary acted annoyed, as it meant a
new host of chores that went beyond her job description, but I think
she's just as happy to have someone new around the office. Sammy has
been with us ever since.
Posted by captainhoof
at 10:29 AM CDT
