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Sunday, March 24, 2013

("Love me two times girl, one for tomorrow, one just for today. Love two times babe, I'm goin away…")…The Doors

For Tuyet, Katrina, KaSandra, and Luc
my inspiration

Chapter Twenty-nine

Union Plaza Hotel…Room 3023...Tuesday, Feb 24, 2009…5:00pm

Wally had left Judy in the Hotel security holding cell with half a dozen uniformed officers, all of whom he knew personally. He wasn't taking any chances, this was some serious shit. He looked around the room which had been closed off with yellow barrier tape and shook his head slowly. What a fucking mess! The poor thing put up quite a fight he thought before whoever did this went to work on her, or him, whatever, that didn't matter much at this point. Suffice to say that whatever services the family plans will have to include a closed casket, that's for damn sure! A uniformed officer appeared in the doorway gesturing for him to join her. Wally figured she was here to tell him that Whitey and Iggie were downstairs. He glanced at his watch and noted that they were late. There must have been more traffic then he'd allowed for. Iggie was sure to mention that the little weasel.

"What is it Shaw," he asked the uniform.

"There's a couple of LAPD shields and a Joe citizen in the lobby asking for you," answered the tall blonde officer.

"Alright, go back and tell em I'll be down in a minute," Wally instructed using the handkerchief from his coat pocket to mop some perspiration from his brow.

The room was air-conditioned well enough but this much gore brought on the stress sweats. Wally had only met Rhonda once. It was at one of Whitey's poker games way before their divorce, back when 'he' was a 'she'. Under these grizzly circumstances he couldn't swear that what he was looking at was the former Mrs. Roode. He was pretty sure, but not positive. What was left of the poor soul was scattered around the bloody room in pieces. Breaking the news to Whitey would be rough but breaking the news to Dr. Looney would be rougher. Wally was relieved that that task would fall to his old pal. The big detective walked over to the nightstand nearest and took noted the time on the face of the digital clock. It was frozen at 1:15pm, busted by something very heavy.

Wally looked down at a thick terrycloth bath towel sprawled on the floor beside the table. It was still damp and was one of the few items in the room that wasn't soiled with blood. The victim had been attacked here after showering, that seemed obvious. There was a struggle and the clock got busted in the process. Likely the perp tossed the victim into the center of the room and went to work on him/her. There were no other signs of struggle…why? Was the vic drugged or just terrified? Neither was a pleasant thought. Wally hated these kinds of slaughterhouse scenes. He'd seen similar scenes overseas back in the shit, entire villages exterminated by the evil men do. Helpless human beings preyed upon by other human beings, for what, a cause? "Thou shalt not kill" wasn't that a commandment in the Christian world he'd been raised in? It was, but he'd ignored it like a good soldier is conditioned to. Maybe this career path is his penance for forgetting that? Maybe…

Wally took out his cell phone and snapped a picture of an open wallet on the floor. There was a California driver's license halfway exposed showing him half of a photo. That would have to do for now, at least until the coroner could make a positive ID of John/Jane Doe. He returned the phone to his pocket and left the room, time to see what was what with Whitey and the LAPD.

LVMPD Motor Pool...Tuesday, Feb 24, 2009…5:30pm

Shift changes are always chaotic at police precincts, what with patrol cars coming and going, off duty officers rushing home to the family or out to the casinos for a chance to win the lottery Vegas-style and escape the law enforcement racket. It made for a good place to hide out in plain sight, not that I needed any such distraction, but chaos always makes it easier for one to blend in, especially when one is dressed for the part. Queer how humans think there is safety in numbers. There isn't you know, not if someone is committed and determined to make something bad happen. Hasn't that fact been proven time and time again in places like Columbine, Beirut, or the World Trade Center? Anyway, it has been my experience that human beings tend to mind their own business while going about their business, especially if one gives them no cause to do otherwise. On the few occasions where I have run into a Good Samaritan or Nosey-Nellie I just used them as a wet stone for my blade, the fools!

Enough pontificating, I am boring myself. What I seek should be in the evidence room or possibly within a computer lab of some sort, depending on the level of sophistication in this berg. Granted it's not Scotland Yard, that's for certain, but that would be an unfair expectation. No Constables here, just Cowboys. I expect there is an equal amount of chaos inside so I anticipate no problems maneuvering at will once I enter the building. Still, a good soldier is a prepared soldier, so my weapon will remain unstrapped in the bulky leather 'holster' part of my costume. Why are Americans so enamored with firepower? No wonder the world sees the USA as a warrior nation. Well you know what they say; "brains trump brawn 99 times out of 100." Curious thought but no concern of mine, I have work to do now.

Eliminating the Turk had cost me precious moments, but it had been necessary. I had arrived on that scene just in time to intervene; otherwise Dr. Looney would be as dead as her unholy mate right now. Fortunately I knew better than to trust the good doctor's safety to this rube friend of Roode's. The man may be a thirty year veteran but he's still an amateur! She would be safe for now, at least until I recover the flash drive that she deciphered. I must say I am quite embarrassed for assuming her incompetent. She surprised me. I think I gasped audibly when I overheard Roode explaining everything to his policeman friend. Thank goodness telephony has always been a hobby of mine. Those skills have come in handy on more than one occasion, like this one. Still I must be slipping. I should have expected technology to advance beyond my ability to keep up. No matter, I know what I am looking for and once I have it I will erase all links to it. There will be nothing to worry about. Once again, a good soldier is a prepared soldier and all that rubbish.

Ahhh, Mei Li, my little butterfly. You were more clever than I gave you credit for. That will be the last time I allow anyone close enough to do me real harm. I taught you well little flower, apparently too well. I allowed you to think yourself my equal as if that were possible, silly child. The Turk, Hassan, saved me the task of dealing with your foolish ambitions. That should have been my pleasure. Still, I wish you had not given him cause to do so. I do so miss your company my dear, in spite of your betrayal. You were the only thing that I ever loved more than my work and myself. I look forward to personally explaining that to Whitey Roode right after I answer his twenty questions, shortly before his inevitable demise. Satisfying his curiosity is an uncharacteristic gesture on my part to be sure, but strangely I feel that he's owed something after what Hassan's done to the abomination that was his ex-wife. Is that a sign of weakness? Yes, it is. Belay that gesture then, he will just die, but not right away…

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