word count: 528
Bud Kramer snapped off the latex gloves and switched off the recorder. The autopsy was done.
He found it only mildly surprising she had ended up on his morgue table. Obviously, someone wanted to keep her mouth shut permanently. As he suspected all along, the girl had been pregnant and given birth recently, only a matter of days. Looks like he'd found the lady who abandoned that baby. But she was dead now, and a probable accomplice was out there. Chances were that he was within the prison gates to have had access to both her and the cans. Specifically, access to the pantry. Bud saw empty containers there after he followed this girl the other day. The pieces were slowly falling into place.
Stan ran out of the junk yard like a madman. He needed to dump the car. After scrubbing out the blood the best he could, he'd headed straight to the lot to dump it before anything happened. He didn't know if it would work, but it was worth a try.
"Hey! Mister, wait!" The grizzly faced owner chased after him on wiry legs. Stan ran faster. He didn't want to talk to anyone. What a mess! What a mess! He strangled her and panicked. He'd swerved into the nearest alley, reached over to open the passenger side, and shoved the body onto the street. It was difficult. He ended up sending her out head first, and the last few seconds involved a lot of shoving and cussing until he finally got the gusto to push the last leg out and out of the way in order to close the door again. Sprawled all askew in the alley, she looked like a rag doll tossed aside in favor of a better toy. Jessica was there because he valued his freedom more than her. If he didn't stop her, she'd have spilled the beans.
He could still see her face when he strangled her as bone and body tissue snapped and felt limp in his hands. The eyes, her beautiful blue eyes, had gone suddenly lifeless, as quick as if he'd flipped a light switch. They failed to speak. They failed to express anything. He was holding that rag doll.
He hitched a ride to a car rental place and got some new wheels and headed back to work. His heart still pounded a nervous rhythm as his hands clutched the steering wheel tighter than need be. He was sweating with nerves pumping when he arrived back at the prison. Heading straight for Vic, he grabbed him by the collar and pulled the fellow's face close to his.
"Promise me, man! Promise me your guys got rid of that damned canister!"
"Don't worry! We can count on Jorge. He's done stuff for me before."
"You better hope so, or so help me, I'll kill you!"
"Stan, calm down! What's the matter with you?"
Stan glared back. "Nothing," he said. But if you've let me down, he thought, I'll be going to jail anyway, so I may as well kill you, too.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Saturday, September 29, 2007
chapter fifteen
word count: 558
stan was in the changing room when he heard a couple of the other deputies laughing about the incident in the cafeteria.
“that skinny little kitchen wench, whats her name jennifer or something,, anyway… she nearly pissed herself,, she dropped a spoon full of mashed potatoes all over herself,, thank god she missed kramer!!! then she took off like a bat outta hell!!”
fuck.. this was forcing his hand… ok, ok, relax… think… relax…he couldn’t even bring vic in on this one.. he had to get to jessica and he had to do it now…..breathe….
as he weaved in and out of traffic,, his heart beating so loud he could feel it rattling his brain as he tried to work the whole thing out…
if he hadn’t nearly hit the that idiots shopping cart and slammed on the breaks, bringing himself back to some semblance of order, he would never have seen her,, as she stumbled out of the bus,,shaking, crying, barely able to hold her self up…
“jessica!!! honey!!! c’mere baby… i’m here its gonna be alright…” he was yelling to her thru the open car window as he veered right and stopped at a indiscreet angle to the curb.. he threw the car door open ran to her,, grabbed her and put his arms around her.. he held her close.. he comforted her.. she sobbed,, her whole body heaving and rocking with the intensity of her pain….
“c’mon baby,, it’s gonna be alright.. c’mon,, lets get in the car”….he guided her slowly and tenderly to the car,, he opened the door,, placed her in the front seat,, secured her seatbelt over her frail, convulsing, frame and ran around to the drivers side….
“lets just drive around and talk a little ok baby,, what can i do?? can you talk to me honey??”
“he knows..” was all she could bring herself to say between gut wrenching sobs… “he knows….”
as they rounded the corner at third and dennison,, stan cut quickly into the alley.. he pulled in behind the dumpster, close to the wall.. her door was within inches of the brick wall,, there was no escape… even if she fought him,, and he could see she had nothing left,, with which to fight…
he glided slowly to a stop.. removed his seatbelt.. slid closer to her.. removed hers.. all the while speaking in rich, soothing, tones…
“its ok baby.. i’ll think if something,, you can believe that.. i would never let him hurt you,, c’mere,, let me hold you,, let daddy make it all right….
he gingerly draped his right arm around her..he slid her closer to him,, “look at me,,, i’m here,, i’m gonna to fix everything…” he tenderly grasped her chin…
he stroked her hair and continued to comfort her as he spoke.. smooth,warm, calming…
she relaxed.. as her head gently touched down on his chest she could hear the maniacal beating of his heart,, she wondered about the look on his face,, was it warm and dulcet like the sound of his voice or raging and contorted like the beating of his heart….
“daddys here now,, hes gonna make it all go away….”
and with that,, he did..
he grabbed a hand full of her dirty blond hair in one hand,, firmly grasped her chin in the other and SNAP… just like that.. it was over.. he was free…
stan was in the changing room when he heard a couple of the other deputies laughing about the incident in the cafeteria.
“that skinny little kitchen wench, whats her name jennifer or something,, anyway… she nearly pissed herself,, she dropped a spoon full of mashed potatoes all over herself,, thank god she missed kramer!!! then she took off like a bat outta hell!!”
fuck.. this was forcing his hand… ok, ok, relax… think… relax…he couldn’t even bring vic in on this one.. he had to get to jessica and he had to do it now…..breathe….
as he weaved in and out of traffic,, his heart beating so loud he could feel it rattling his brain as he tried to work the whole thing out…
if he hadn’t nearly hit the that idiots shopping cart and slammed on the breaks, bringing himself back to some semblance of order, he would never have seen her,, as she stumbled out of the bus,,shaking, crying, barely able to hold her self up…
“jessica!!! honey!!! c’mere baby… i’m here its gonna be alright…” he was yelling to her thru the open car window as he veered right and stopped at a indiscreet angle to the curb.. he threw the car door open ran to her,, grabbed her and put his arms around her.. he held her close.. he comforted her.. she sobbed,, her whole body heaving and rocking with the intensity of her pain….
“c’mon baby,, it’s gonna be alright.. c’mon,, lets get in the car”….he guided her slowly and tenderly to the car,, he opened the door,, placed her in the front seat,, secured her seatbelt over her frail, convulsing, frame and ran around to the drivers side….
“lets just drive around and talk a little ok baby,, what can i do?? can you talk to me honey??”
“he knows..” was all she could bring herself to say between gut wrenching sobs… “he knows….”
as they rounded the corner at third and dennison,, stan cut quickly into the alley.. he pulled in behind the dumpster, close to the wall.. her door was within inches of the brick wall,, there was no escape… even if she fought him,, and he could see she had nothing left,, with which to fight…
he glided slowly to a stop.. removed his seatbelt.. slid closer to her.. removed hers.. all the while speaking in rich, soothing, tones…
“its ok baby.. i’ll think if something,, you can believe that.. i would never let him hurt you,, c’mere,, let me hold you,, let daddy make it all right….
he gingerly draped his right arm around her..he slid her closer to him,, “look at me,,, i’m here,, i’m gonna to fix everything…” he tenderly grasped her chin…
he stroked her hair and continued to comfort her as he spoke.. smooth,warm, calming…
she relaxed.. as her head gently touched down on his chest she could hear the maniacal beating of his heart,, she wondered about the look on his face,, was it warm and dulcet like the sound of his voice or raging and contorted like the beating of his heart….
“daddys here now,, hes gonna make it all go away….”
and with that,, he did..
he grabbed a hand full of her dirty blond hair in one hand,, firmly grasped her chin in the other and SNAP… just like that.. it was over.. he was free…
chapter fourteen
word count: 392 words
Bud sipped his coffee and laid the cup down without making any noise when the cup hit the saucer. His eyes remained glued on the waitress. She was in obvious distress. Her hair lay in a tangled mass matching the appearance of her disheveled clothes. Her eyes darted about like frightened mice running for the corners. And was her hand shaking? It could be her. He got up and headed over, empty cup in hand.
As he got more java, he watched her. She filled inmate's plates with mashed potatoes, eyes cast down, plunking the white mounds onto their waiting platters. Bud moved in for the kill. Holding the steaming cup with one hand, he reached the other into his pocket to produce his ID.
"Miss, I'm Bud Kramer, the Medical Examiner. I'd like to speak with you, please."
The potato spoon went rattling to the floor as the frightened woman gawked at him. Panic raced across her face as she stood rigid, speechless, and trembling.
"Are you okay, miss?" Bud stepped closer. He feared the woman might faint.
"You want to talk to me?" she stammered.
"Just for a few moments." He shot her an uncharacteristic smile. "I don't bite."
The little joke didn't appease her as she followed Bud's nod to a nearby table.
"I have your record here from Human Resources. I see you're single. Is that right?"
"Yes."
"Any significant other in your life?" He shot her a smile, this one phony.
The girl paused before stammering, "No."
Bud closed the folder and folded his hands on the table. "I'm not going to play games. I'm just going to get right to it. Did you recently miscarry a baby and dump the body?
The girl half stood as though ready to bolt, but then burst into tears.
Bud Kramer was used to dealing with hardened criminals. This he did not expect. He jumped and ran to her, but she pushed him away.
"No! How could you ask me such a thing?" She got up and ran...pushing past tables, knocking over a chair, rushing from the cafeteria.
Bud followed. He watched as she bolted down the hallway and ran straight to the pantry. When she'd vanished inside, he smiled. "That's where they store the canisters," he murmured.
Bud sipped his coffee and laid the cup down without making any noise when the cup hit the saucer. His eyes remained glued on the waitress. She was in obvious distress. Her hair lay in a tangled mass matching the appearance of her disheveled clothes. Her eyes darted about like frightened mice running for the corners. And was her hand shaking? It could be her. He got up and headed over, empty cup in hand.
As he got more java, he watched her. She filled inmate's plates with mashed potatoes, eyes cast down, plunking the white mounds onto their waiting platters. Bud moved in for the kill. Holding the steaming cup with one hand, he reached the other into his pocket to produce his ID.
"Miss, I'm Bud Kramer, the Medical Examiner. I'd like to speak with you, please."
The potato spoon went rattling to the floor as the frightened woman gawked at him. Panic raced across her face as she stood rigid, speechless, and trembling.
"Are you okay, miss?" Bud stepped closer. He feared the woman might faint.
"You want to talk to me?" she stammered.
"Just for a few moments." He shot her an uncharacteristic smile. "I don't bite."
The little joke didn't appease her as she followed Bud's nod to a nearby table.
"I have your record here from Human Resources. I see you're single. Is that right?"
"Yes."
"Any significant other in your life?" He shot her a smile, this one phony.
The girl paused before stammering, "No."
Bud closed the folder and folded his hands on the table. "I'm not going to play games. I'm just going to get right to it. Did you recently miscarry a baby and dump the body?
The girl half stood as though ready to bolt, but then burst into tears.
Bud Kramer was used to dealing with hardened criminals. This he did not expect. He jumped and ran to her, but she pushed him away.
"No! How could you ask me such a thing?" She got up and ran...pushing past tables, knocking over a chair, rushing from the cafeteria.
Bud followed. He watched as she bolted down the hallway and ran straight to the pantry. When she'd vanished inside, he smiled. "That's where they store the canisters," he murmured.
chapter thirteen
word count: 572
having already spent enough time trying to dig up vic dimarco, stan made a bee line for the prison kitchen. he was in panic mode.. and need to “vent”.. jessica… he had to find jessica… as he stepped into the prep area, he looked over the paperwork he had in his hand,, his signal that she was to meet him in the pantry…
“oh, god no.. ” she thought to herself.. “i can’t do this.. not now” she exhaled with such force,, it felt as if her life force had left her body with the dispelled air….
she looked down,, into the huge vat of mashed potatoes she was reconstituting,, and noticeably slumped forward.. she wanted him to go away.. just disappear…
she looked up. it wasn’t working,, he was walking right for her.. he cut a quick left at the worktable before hers and headed to the pantry… what could she do.. no telling what he was capable of if she ignored him… she followed….
“what the fuck is up with you?? you decide you are too good for me now?? i get the feeling you are trying to blow me off..” stan was pacing,, he was frustrated,, he was in between the proverbial rock and a hard place with all of this,, and there was no way he was going to let her slip out of his grasp. not now..
“come here baby… this has been hard on both of us.. this is no time to pull away… that makes us connected doesn’t it?? we belong to each other now,, don’t we??” he said mockingly as he pulled her close.. she stared blankly at the floor,, her head against his chest,, listening to his heart beat wildly,, the loud unstructured clanging of a mad man…
he grabbed her by the chin,, and forced her to look at him.. he held her head there.. he bent down and kissed her,, he crushed her to him.. he ran his hand over her hair.. took a firm grasp of the back of it and held on.. he kissed her harder and deeper… wrapped his arm around her waist.. he picked her up and laid her on the cold sterile looking work table,, and loosened the drawstring on her scrub like uniform pants.. he eased his free hand in the back and with a round about motion slid them off and her naked back onto the cold steel surface…
she looked up at him with dead eyes… parted wordless lips…
he undid his service belt, unzipped his fly, freed his manhood and prepared to slam some life into those cold,, dead eyes.. he slid her to him.. just to the end of the table,, pushed her lifeless legs out of the way and …
“who’s yer daddy.. c’mon.. tell me… who’s yer…”
“well,, now.. i’ll be right here if you need me… ah stan.. you sly dog you…”
vic dimarco stood in the doorway,, his broad shouldered stance taking up the better part of the opening… he smiled,, gave a quick wink,, and disappeared outside the heavy metal door…
the very idea of vic looking on as he violated of this tiny, lifeless girl,, spurred stan into near instant fleshly culmination…
in less than a minute he had adjusted himself,, zipped,, buckled, and walked toward the door,, as he glanced back,, he saw jessica,, still lying lifelessly on the cold steel edge of the table…
“phffft.. ” he shook his head,, opened the door,, and disappeared….
having already spent enough time trying to dig up vic dimarco, stan made a bee line for the prison kitchen. he was in panic mode.. and need to “vent”.. jessica… he had to find jessica… as he stepped into the prep area, he looked over the paperwork he had in his hand,, his signal that she was to meet him in the pantry…
“oh, god no.. ” she thought to herself.. “i can’t do this.. not now” she exhaled with such force,, it felt as if her life force had left her body with the dispelled air….
she looked down,, into the huge vat of mashed potatoes she was reconstituting,, and noticeably slumped forward.. she wanted him to go away.. just disappear…
she looked up. it wasn’t working,, he was walking right for her.. he cut a quick left at the worktable before hers and headed to the pantry… what could she do.. no telling what he was capable of if she ignored him… she followed….
“what the fuck is up with you?? you decide you are too good for me now?? i get the feeling you are trying to blow me off..” stan was pacing,, he was frustrated,, he was in between the proverbial rock and a hard place with all of this,, and there was no way he was going to let her slip out of his grasp. not now..
“come here baby… this has been hard on both of us.. this is no time to pull away… that makes us connected doesn’t it?? we belong to each other now,, don’t we??” he said mockingly as he pulled her close.. she stared blankly at the floor,, her head against his chest,, listening to his heart beat wildly,, the loud unstructured clanging of a mad man…
he grabbed her by the chin,, and forced her to look at him.. he held her head there.. he bent down and kissed her,, he crushed her to him.. he ran his hand over her hair.. took a firm grasp of the back of it and held on.. he kissed her harder and deeper… wrapped his arm around her waist.. he picked her up and laid her on the cold sterile looking work table,, and loosened the drawstring on her scrub like uniform pants.. he eased his free hand in the back and with a round about motion slid them off and her naked back onto the cold steel surface…
she looked up at him with dead eyes… parted wordless lips…
he undid his service belt, unzipped his fly, freed his manhood and prepared to slam some life into those cold,, dead eyes.. he slid her to him.. just to the end of the table,, pushed her lifeless legs out of the way and …
“who’s yer daddy.. c’mon.. tell me… who’s yer…”
“well,, now.. i’ll be right here if you need me… ah stan.. you sly dog you…”
vic dimarco stood in the doorway,, his broad shouldered stance taking up the better part of the opening… he smiled,, gave a quick wink,, and disappeared outside the heavy metal door…
the very idea of vic looking on as he violated of this tiny, lifeless girl,, spurred stan into near instant fleshly culmination…
in less than a minute he had adjusted himself,, zipped,, buckled, and walked toward the door,, as he glanced back,, he saw jessica,, still lying lifelessly on the cold steel edge of the table…
“phffft.. ” he shook his head,, opened the door,, and disappeared….
chapter twelve
word count: 488 words
Bud Kramer watched the garage door going down and got out of the car, slamming the door with an obstinate thud. Home at last. Glancing at his watch, he saw it was almost midnight. The extra time it took to drive home to the city from the prison really ate up time. And he's been at the prison until dark, even stopping by the shabby cafeteria to grab a hamburger. Only one lady was there, making preparations for tomorrow's breakfast before she closed down for the day. With a wink and a twenty-dollar bill, he got her to zap a burger for him.
He crawled up the stairs feeling his age, sixty-two. In a couple of years, if he had any other brains at all, he'd retire.
"Bud?"
At the sound of her voice, he rushed to the living room. "Jane," he said, kissing her cheek. A tall man, he had to bend low to touch her, sitting in a wheelchair like she was.
"You're late. I was worried."
"I got busy. I turned off my phone and forgot to call."
"I wish you wouldn't do that. I get frantic, especially when you're out in the field."
"We can't have that," he replied, holding her close. "You know you are the most precious part of my life." The words were murmured with such gentleness it would surprise the people he worked with. No one knew scary Bud had a soft side. Actually, no one knew he had a wife, let alone an invalid one.
"Drink?" he asked, heading for the bar.
"Just some white wine, dear."
"I was up to my neck in it today, trying to figure how that fetus in a canister at the prison got there."
"Well, it was on the news. Maybe someone will call in with a clue."
"In my dreams," Bud Kramer replied wearily. "So what's new on the home front?"
"Not much. My sister called. Sandy is pregnant again. Will that girl ever stop?"
"Again? How can those two hope to feed all those kids?" He handed her the wine while taking a long sip of Jack Daniels. He sat next to her. "Do you ever regret we never had any?"
"No, Bud, no! It would be too...complicated."
"Yep." His mind wandered. That Sandy...pretty soon Bob would have to rob a bank just to make ends meet. He'd end up in prison. Poor schmuck! Wheels turned in his head as Bud laid the glass down. Pregnant women...prison. Oh my God! Jumping up, he blurted out, "Those canisters came in from the outside. But that baby was born within hours of it being found. That baby was born inside prison walls!"
"Bud, you're right."
"I'm going to check out every woman who works at that place. It might be one of them. I'll find her."
Bud Kramer watched the garage door going down and got out of the car, slamming the door with an obstinate thud. Home at last. Glancing at his watch, he saw it was almost midnight. The extra time it took to drive home to the city from the prison really ate up time. And he's been at the prison until dark, even stopping by the shabby cafeteria to grab a hamburger. Only one lady was there, making preparations for tomorrow's breakfast before she closed down for the day. With a wink and a twenty-dollar bill, he got her to zap a burger for him.
He crawled up the stairs feeling his age, sixty-two. In a couple of years, if he had any other brains at all, he'd retire.
"Bud?"
At the sound of her voice, he rushed to the living room. "Jane," he said, kissing her cheek. A tall man, he had to bend low to touch her, sitting in a wheelchair like she was.
"You're late. I was worried."
"I got busy. I turned off my phone and forgot to call."
"I wish you wouldn't do that. I get frantic, especially when you're out in the field."
"We can't have that," he replied, holding her close. "You know you are the most precious part of my life." The words were murmured with such gentleness it would surprise the people he worked with. No one knew scary Bud had a soft side. Actually, no one knew he had a wife, let alone an invalid one.
"Drink?" he asked, heading for the bar.
"Just some white wine, dear."
"I was up to my neck in it today, trying to figure how that fetus in a canister at the prison got there."
"Well, it was on the news. Maybe someone will call in with a clue."
"In my dreams," Bud Kramer replied wearily. "So what's new on the home front?"
"Not much. My sister called. Sandy is pregnant again. Will that girl ever stop?"
"Again? How can those two hope to feed all those kids?" He handed her the wine while taking a long sip of Jack Daniels. He sat next to her. "Do you ever regret we never had any?"
"No, Bud, no! It would be too...complicated."
"Yep." His mind wandered. That Sandy...pretty soon Bob would have to rob a bank just to make ends meet. He'd end up in prison. Poor schmuck! Wheels turned in his head as Bud laid the glass down. Pregnant women...prison. Oh my God! Jumping up, he blurted out, "Those canisters came in from the outside. But that baby was born within hours of it being found. That baby was born inside prison walls!"
"Bud, you're right."
"I'm going to check out every woman who works at that place. It might be one of them. I'll find her."
chapter eleven
word count: 647
jessa rechecked to make sure she was going to make it thru intake with as little bullshit as possible as she walked towards the gunmetal gray entrance door marked "visitors".....
bra,,check
long pants,,check
no cleavage,,check
no purse,,check
id in back pocket,,check
she stepped up to the desk,, signed in,, showed her id,was visually inspected by the matron...this was so much bull shit.. this was why she quit visiting jason in the first place.....
but she had to know.. had to find out what all of this meant,, jason being on the news.. in the papers...
she had picked up bits and pieces from what she could read thru the glass caged windows of the paper boxes...
a dead baby,, in a bucket on the side of the road..then something about the buckets came up missing again..she had to find out what jason knew.. and whether or not he had anything to do with all of this...
she sat, nervously picking a piece of dead cuticle off her thumb nail.. bite,, pick,, pick,, bite some more.. she hadn't noticed the tall classically good looking deputy come into the room... nor had she noticed that he had spent quite a while,, as well as some sweet smiles and a few candid laughs over there with the matronly looking female deputy at the intake desk before she had given him the ok to personally accompany her up to the visiting block...
"... and i mean that.." vic dimarco said with a suave backward glance over his shoulder,, and a smile straight out of a romance novel to seal the deal... smoldering,, they would have called it... a smoldering smile... which disappeared as soon as his head was righted and he was walking toward the skinny little crack head girl friend he knew belonged to jason alexander... jessa... he couldn't help but wonder what her tricks called her,, cheyene,, jasmine,, deserie... he had been with enough of these little street hookers to get the drift... something exotic.. something memorable,, something that made her feel like someone else...
"miss longo,, you are here to see jason alexander??" he started talking before he had even stopped walking.. he wanted to catch her off guard,, he needed to be one step ahead... these little street bitches were sharp.. they had a sixth sense.. they could smell trouble..
"follow me." he said, turned and walked toward the door to the visitors hall,, without ever making eye contact...
jessa scrambled to her feet and followed..
when he was safely out of the viewing distance of the female deputy at the desk.. he turned, and said, "how you doin?" smoothly pulling off his best jersey accent...as he looked at her from under his brow, just enough of his too long bangs hanging down that if he angled his head just right and let them fall, just so,, he could pull off "sheepish".. he flashed her a soft smile to bring some light to his otherwise dark mediterranean features...
jessa just looked at him,, what was this asshole doing?? playing her?? he'd have to work a whole lot harder at it than that...and lose the uniform,, and the badge,, and start sprouting some serious cash... she said nothing... just continued to look at him like he was turning green before her eyes...
"follow me.." vic stated very matter-of-factly and looked away... this was not going to be as easy as he had hoped.. he was going to have to resort to plan b.. the street approach.. this one was way too tough.. she didn't look bad for someone that had evidently been around the block more than a couple of times.. who knows.. he might even have a little fun with this....
"alexander!" he called out in his deepest, darkest, most serious, deputy voice.. jason jumped off the bench by the wall and smiled like he had finally seen the light... jessa.. she made it.. thank god....
jessa rechecked to make sure she was going to make it thru intake with as little bullshit as possible as she walked towards the gunmetal gray entrance door marked "visitors".....
bra,,check
long pants,,check
no cleavage,,check
no purse,,check
id in back pocket,,check
she stepped up to the desk,, signed in,, showed her id,was visually inspected by the matron...this was so much bull shit.. this was why she quit visiting jason in the first place.....
but she had to know.. had to find out what all of this meant,, jason being on the news.. in the papers...
she had picked up bits and pieces from what she could read thru the glass caged windows of the paper boxes...
a dead baby,, in a bucket on the side of the road..then something about the buckets came up missing again..she had to find out what jason knew.. and whether or not he had anything to do with all of this...
she sat, nervously picking a piece of dead cuticle off her thumb nail.. bite,, pick,, pick,, bite some more.. she hadn't noticed the tall classically good looking deputy come into the room... nor had she noticed that he had spent quite a while,, as well as some sweet smiles and a few candid laughs over there with the matronly looking female deputy at the intake desk before she had given him the ok to personally accompany her up to the visiting block...
"... and i mean that.." vic dimarco said with a suave backward glance over his shoulder,, and a smile straight out of a romance novel to seal the deal... smoldering,, they would have called it... a smoldering smile... which disappeared as soon as his head was righted and he was walking toward the skinny little crack head girl friend he knew belonged to jason alexander... jessa... he couldn't help but wonder what her tricks called her,, cheyene,, jasmine,, deserie... he had been with enough of these little street hookers to get the drift... something exotic.. something memorable,, something that made her feel like someone else...
"miss longo,, you are here to see jason alexander??" he started talking before he had even stopped walking.. he wanted to catch her off guard,, he needed to be one step ahead... these little street bitches were sharp.. they had a sixth sense.. they could smell trouble..
"follow me." he said, turned and walked toward the door to the visitors hall,, without ever making eye contact...
jessa scrambled to her feet and followed..
when he was safely out of the viewing distance of the female deputy at the desk.. he turned, and said, "how you doin?" smoothly pulling off his best jersey accent...as he looked at her from under his brow, just enough of his too long bangs hanging down that if he angled his head just right and let them fall, just so,, he could pull off "sheepish".. he flashed her a soft smile to bring some light to his otherwise dark mediterranean features...
jessa just looked at him,, what was this asshole doing?? playing her?? he'd have to work a whole lot harder at it than that...and lose the uniform,, and the badge,, and start sprouting some serious cash... she said nothing... just continued to look at him like he was turning green before her eyes...
"follow me.." vic stated very matter-of-factly and looked away... this was not going to be as easy as he had hoped.. he was going to have to resort to plan b.. the street approach.. this one was way too tough.. she didn't look bad for someone that had evidently been around the block more than a couple of times.. who knows.. he might even have a little fun with this....
"alexander!" he called out in his deepest, darkest, most serious, deputy voice.. jason jumped off the bench by the wall and smiled like he had finally seen the light... jessa.. she made it.. thank god....
chapter ten
word count: 504 words
The office stunk like yesterday's lunch. And the chair Kramer delegated to him wobbled and squeaked. To top it off, Vic was nowhere to be found. Things weren't looking good.
"What do you know about the canisters?"
"Canisters? Oh, you mean the ones I was guarding?"
"Don't get cute with me! I know your pal Vic DiMarco had something to do with the disappearance. Nothing stays a secret for long around here."
"I don't understand the problem. They're back now." Stan tried to attach a smile to the statement. But he wasn't fooling anyone, least of all Bud Kramer.
Bud lit a cigar and blew smoke in Stan's face. "But one is missing," he stated between puffs, exhaling angry hot air at the other fellow. His breath reeked of hot peppers.
"One short? I didn't know that. I was told to guard them, not count them."
"Is that so? And I suppose you had no reason to count them--no personal reason." He hissed rather than spoke the words. When the guard sat silently, showing no reaction to the question, Kramer threw up his hands in disgust. "Get the hell outta here!" he roared.
Once Stan was gone, the Medical Examiner burst out of the office and stomped across the hall to the superintendent's tiny cubicle. That man looked up in alarm as Bud Kramer burst in.
"I want you to get me all the information you can on Stan White, the guard at block 6. Everything! Including talking to prisoners. I want to know everything anybody saw or heard on the day that fetus was found in a barrel, especially as concerns that guy. Got it?"
The startled super nodded his head.
"And don't let his buddy, Vic DiMarco, know what you're doing either."
The super murmured his obedience. Nobody in their right mind would cross Bud Kramer.
Over at her place, Jessica chugged a shot of whiskey. The booze belonged to Stan. He kept at her place for whenever he stopped by. He didn't come often; but when he did he wanted his whiskey. Their trysts in the pantry at work was the only reliable time they got together. That being said, he had been coming more often since the miscarriage. God only knows what story he thought up to tell his wife.
But she wanted to be left alone. Something very precious had been taken from her and it hurt. It burned like hell in the heart. She was draped in despair, and its blackness was calling the shots. Going to work was a nightmare. She could barely make it there, and the workday slopping grease onto inmates' plates seemed never ending. Stan had asked her to meet him in the pantry, but she refused. She wouldn't want to go through all of that again. She was done with men...forever. For that matter, Stan could consider himself lucky she didn't act out her anger toward him.
The office stunk like yesterday's lunch. And the chair Kramer delegated to him wobbled and squeaked. To top it off, Vic was nowhere to be found. Things weren't looking good.
"What do you know about the canisters?"
"Canisters? Oh, you mean the ones I was guarding?"
"Don't get cute with me! I know your pal Vic DiMarco had something to do with the disappearance. Nothing stays a secret for long around here."
"I don't understand the problem. They're back now." Stan tried to attach a smile to the statement. But he wasn't fooling anyone, least of all Bud Kramer.
Bud lit a cigar and blew smoke in Stan's face. "But one is missing," he stated between puffs, exhaling angry hot air at the other fellow. His breath reeked of hot peppers.
"One short? I didn't know that. I was told to guard them, not count them."
"Is that so? And I suppose you had no reason to count them--no personal reason." He hissed rather than spoke the words. When the guard sat silently, showing no reaction to the question, Kramer threw up his hands in disgust. "Get the hell outta here!" he roared.
Once Stan was gone, the Medical Examiner burst out of the office and stomped across the hall to the superintendent's tiny cubicle. That man looked up in alarm as Bud Kramer burst in.
"I want you to get me all the information you can on Stan White, the guard at block 6. Everything! Including talking to prisoners. I want to know everything anybody saw or heard on the day that fetus was found in a barrel, especially as concerns that guy. Got it?"
The startled super nodded his head.
"And don't let his buddy, Vic DiMarco, know what you're doing either."
The super murmured his obedience. Nobody in their right mind would cross Bud Kramer.
Over at her place, Jessica chugged a shot of whiskey. The booze belonged to Stan. He kept at her place for whenever he stopped by. He didn't come often; but when he did he wanted his whiskey. Their trysts in the pantry at work was the only reliable time they got together. That being said, he had been coming more often since the miscarriage. God only knows what story he thought up to tell his wife.
But she wanted to be left alone. Something very precious had been taken from her and it hurt. It burned like hell in the heart. She was draped in despair, and its blackness was calling the shots. Going to work was a nightmare. She could barely make it there, and the workday slopping grease onto inmates' plates seemed never ending. Stan had asked her to meet him in the pantry, but she refused. She wouldn't want to go through all of that again. She was done with men...forever. For that matter, Stan could consider himself lucky she didn't act out her anger toward him.
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cchapter nine
word count: 547
this was smooth... stan was guarding the empty canisters,, knowing full well as he did that the one that had held the remains of his unborn offspring was not among them... he and vic had seen to that,, with a little help from that martinez character and his drunken cousin...
stan pulled one of the canisters over,, wiped off the top with his hand to make sure it wouldn't leave a wet spot on his backside,, as something like that could ruin even the most feared of all jailers day,, and thought about what he was going to have for lunch....
as stan pondered lunch, jorge martinez,, sat on the commode, relieving himself of last evenings festivities,, and making room for the eggs and choritzo he smelled earlier emanating from the kitchen... not a care in the world.. nothing to be done,, his father had seen to the removal of the bucket in question,, and life was good....he would nuke a couple tortillas,, have a couple egg tacos,, and go get lupe.. it was getting hot,, it had to be close to noon.. close enough for a beer any way....
after meticulously using half a roll of toilet paper,, as he had no intention of showering just yet,, he stared down at his masterpiece in porcelain and smiled... a floater... definitely an indication of a good day.....
he flushed, waited and then flushed again... looked longingly at himself in the mirror and said,, "oye,, papi chulo..." in his most devilishly sexy voice,, slicked his hair behind his ears,, and was off....
as stan sat deciding definitely on delivery from papa guidos,, he heard footsteps,, and turned to see detective kramer and his assistant, known only as "red" coming at him fast from behind.. he jumped up and stood at what could have been interpreted as attention as they approached... neither of them looked too happy.. he really didn't want to deal with them and their bad attitudes... it was time for lunch...
" i want to see you and your deputy friend vic dimarco.. now" kramer barked as he and "red" turned the corner into the office that had been commandeered for their use while on assignment here and slammed the door closed..
this did not look good... fuck... where was vic?
as the sound of "danza del sombrero mexicano" other wise known as the mexican hat dance blared out of the silver horn on top of the battered old truck, jorge rearranged his manhood, and grabbed another beer...
lupe peeked out from behind a drawn curtain,, and signaled he would be out in a minute... punching the preset keys on the static filled fm radio in the dash he left off surfing when he felt his cell phone vibrating in his pocket..
"hola mami, que onda??" he said after looking at the caller id...
"what does he want?? you know every time you take a call from him it is costing you money right??"....."yeah well i got work to do.. just don't accept the charges if he calls you again.."
he snapped the phone shut, looked at it,, took a long pull off his beer,, belched loudly and blew the mexican hat dance again for lupe.... "para arriba pendejo!" he yelled out the window of the truck, just as lupe came walking out the door....
this was smooth... stan was guarding the empty canisters,, knowing full well as he did that the one that had held the remains of his unborn offspring was not among them... he and vic had seen to that,, with a little help from that martinez character and his drunken cousin...
stan pulled one of the canisters over,, wiped off the top with his hand to make sure it wouldn't leave a wet spot on his backside,, as something like that could ruin even the most feared of all jailers day,, and thought about what he was going to have for lunch....
as stan pondered lunch, jorge martinez,, sat on the commode, relieving himself of last evenings festivities,, and making room for the eggs and choritzo he smelled earlier emanating from the kitchen... not a care in the world.. nothing to be done,, his father had seen to the removal of the bucket in question,, and life was good....he would nuke a couple tortillas,, have a couple egg tacos,, and go get lupe.. it was getting hot,, it had to be close to noon.. close enough for a beer any way....
after meticulously using half a roll of toilet paper,, as he had no intention of showering just yet,, he stared down at his masterpiece in porcelain and smiled... a floater... definitely an indication of a good day.....
he flushed, waited and then flushed again... looked longingly at himself in the mirror and said,, "oye,, papi chulo..." in his most devilishly sexy voice,, slicked his hair behind his ears,, and was off....
as stan sat deciding definitely on delivery from papa guidos,, he heard footsteps,, and turned to see detective kramer and his assistant, known only as "red" coming at him fast from behind.. he jumped up and stood at what could have been interpreted as attention as they approached... neither of them looked too happy.. he really didn't want to deal with them and their bad attitudes... it was time for lunch...
" i want to see you and your deputy friend vic dimarco.. now" kramer barked as he and "red" turned the corner into the office that had been commandeered for their use while on assignment here and slammed the door closed..
this did not look good... fuck... where was vic?
as the sound of "danza del sombrero mexicano" other wise known as the mexican hat dance blared out of the silver horn on top of the battered old truck, jorge rearranged his manhood, and grabbed another beer...
lupe peeked out from behind a drawn curtain,, and signaled he would be out in a minute... punching the preset keys on the static filled fm radio in the dash he left off surfing when he felt his cell phone vibrating in his pocket..
"hola mami, que onda??" he said after looking at the caller id...
"what does he want?? you know every time you take a call from him it is costing you money right??"....."yeah well i got work to do.. just don't accept the charges if he calls you again.."
he snapped the phone shut, looked at it,, took a long pull off his beer,, belched loudly and blew the mexican hat dance again for lupe.... "para arriba pendejo!" he yelled out the window of the truck, just as lupe came walking out the door....
chapter eight
word count: 443 words
Bud Kramer sloshed the last dredges of scalding coffee down his throat and crushed the Styrofoam cup with one hand, flinging it to the waste can . He wished it was good Irish whiskey, but it wasn't noon yet. No matter how bad things got, it was his rule, no booze before noon. Never. How could those a-holes lose the canister that had contained that fetus? His anger roared to the surface again. Bud Kramer didn't suffer fools well.
It was like the last time, the time where a baby was found in a dumpster, a baby who had been suffocated. Before his forensics team could get the blanket the baby was wrapped in, it disappeared. They'd had nothing to go on to trace where that baby came from. It was a disgrace, almost losing him the election. But luckily, finding evidence to nail the killer of a beautiful young coed got him back in the public's good graces again. But he might not be so lucky this time. No one liked to see an innocent baby abused. And it was his job to bring the monster who did this to justice.
"Bud, you're not gonna believe this. The canisters are back!" It was the voice of his assistant, Red, so-called because of his blazing-carrot topped head of hair.
"What?"
"They found them down the road from the gate. All of them." That man smiled, knowing the implications of finding one can, in particular.
"Did you find the one we want?"
"We're going through them. Should find it soon."
"Okay, tell that warden to put guards around those canisters, and don't let anyone near them."
Stan heard the hullabaloo when the cantainers were found. Stretching to peek out into the yard from his post, he gazed through the barred window to see the canisters arriving back. His heart beat a drum solo that pounded through his head louder than thunder. How did they get back here? Vic had told him the cans were long gone. He needed to get a look, find the one with his prints on it. They'd probably put a guard detail on them since a crime was involved. He glanced at his watch. His shift was about over.
He ran for the yard, running then walking, trying to a be casual, toward the stacked-up canisters. God! Which one was it? The warden stood by, stroking his chin, lost in thought. He spied Stan and called him over.
"Stan, stand guard on these, and don't let them out of your sight."
"Yes, sir." Don't worry. I won't. When I figure out how they got back here though, someone's gonna pay.
Bud Kramer sloshed the last dredges of scalding coffee down his throat and crushed the Styrofoam cup with one hand, flinging it to the waste can . He wished it was good Irish whiskey, but it wasn't noon yet. No matter how bad things got, it was his rule, no booze before noon. Never. How could those a-holes lose the canister that had contained that fetus? His anger roared to the surface again. Bud Kramer didn't suffer fools well.
It was like the last time, the time where a baby was found in a dumpster, a baby who had been suffocated. Before his forensics team could get the blanket the baby was wrapped in, it disappeared. They'd had nothing to go on to trace where that baby came from. It was a disgrace, almost losing him the election. But luckily, finding evidence to nail the killer of a beautiful young coed got him back in the public's good graces again. But he might not be so lucky this time. No one liked to see an innocent baby abused. And it was his job to bring the monster who did this to justice.
"Bud, you're not gonna believe this. The canisters are back!" It was the voice of his assistant, Red, so-called because of his blazing-carrot topped head of hair.
"What?"
"They found them down the road from the gate. All of them." That man smiled, knowing the implications of finding one can, in particular.
"Did you find the one we want?"
"We're going through them. Should find it soon."
"Okay, tell that warden to put guards around those canisters, and don't let anyone near them."
Stan heard the hullabaloo when the cantainers were found. Stretching to peek out into the yard from his post, he gazed through the barred window to see the canisters arriving back. His heart beat a drum solo that pounded through his head louder than thunder. How did they get back here? Vic had told him the cans were long gone. He needed to get a look, find the one with his prints on it. They'd probably put a guard detail on them since a crime was involved. He glanced at his watch. His shift was about over.
He ran for the yard, running then walking, trying to a be casual, toward the stacked-up canisters. God! Which one was it? The warden stood by, stroking his chin, lost in thought. He spied Stan and called him over.
"Stan, stand guard on these, and don't let them out of your sight."
"Yes, sir." Don't worry. I won't. When I figure out how they got back here though, someone's gonna pay.
chapter seven
word count: 549
this whole thing was not sitting right with raul.. sure he was pleased that deputy “call me vic”
di tardo, had approached him to help with the hauling… having him in his pocket was definitely a good thing…
he knew his good for nothing cousin, jorge would only be too happy to catch the $150.00 the DOC would be dropping on him to haul the shit away…again… he just didn’t trust, jorge, he was a sponge… and he wasn’t sure his alcohol soaked brain would follow thru on this… and if he didn’t… surely it would be rauls own ass on the line….
he had picked up the phone several times,, wanting to call and make sure that the deed had been done… but he knew jorge,, and he knew his word was merde,, he was a seeing is believing kind of guy,, not someone that you could trust just because he said so over the phone….but he also knew,, jorge knew what keeping your mouth shut was…he was like a steel trap,, he could in any and all circumstances be relied on… to know nothing…
raul replayed the conversation he had had with jorge over and over in his brain,, “you have to destroy it bro,, it has to be gone,, don’t just dump it somewhere,, take the money and get rid of the bucket… one pinche bucket.. you can do this,, don’t let me down man,,, dont fuck this up … again….”
“si. primo… no problema, no problema,, comprendo,, comprendo….don’t worry…”
yeah,, easier said than done…..
as raul paced,, jorge slept..
“jorge,, borrachone… get up.. go get a job.. go anywhere i cannot see you!!!” his mother called from the kitchen… “i spent all morning cleaning your filth out of the yard…”
the yard,, the yard,, why did that make him feel like he was supposed to do something… the yard,, the yard,, what was it he was supposed to do in the yard???
the yard,, fuck,, the bucket… they had taken it off the truck when martin showed up and they needed an extra seat… the bucket,, was in the yard,, he had to go make sure it made it back on the truck.. he really had to do this right this time,, he had to take care of that pinche bucket once and for all… today,, this morning,, right now….
he righted himself, found his sea legs and stumbled out the front door, avoiding his mothers judgmental eyes…
he scanned the yard,, the chairs were still all sitting where they had left them,, in a semi circle surrounding the fire pit… but the bucket wasn’t there… where was the damn thing??? it had been right there… at least he thought it had been right there,, it had got kind of hazy there in the end of the evening…
“mami,, what did you do with the bucket,, the one that was right here??” he yelled into the house…
“now you care.. now you care where things are,, last night you didn’t care.. you left the yard a mess,, beer cans everywhere,, fire burning,, cigarettes all over the grass,,, now you care about this bucket???
“mami.. where is the bucket??”
“your father took it… what the hell was in that thing anyway,,, the stink!! a whole bottle of bleach he used to clean the stink from it……”
this whole thing was not sitting right with raul.. sure he was pleased that deputy “call me vic”
di tardo, had approached him to help with the hauling… having him in his pocket was definitely a good thing…
he knew his good for nothing cousin, jorge would only be too happy to catch the $150.00 the DOC would be dropping on him to haul the shit away…again… he just didn’t trust, jorge, he was a sponge… and he wasn’t sure his alcohol soaked brain would follow thru on this… and if he didn’t… surely it would be rauls own ass on the line….
he had picked up the phone several times,, wanting to call and make sure that the deed had been done… but he knew jorge,, and he knew his word was merde,, he was a seeing is believing kind of guy,, not someone that you could trust just because he said so over the phone….but he also knew,, jorge knew what keeping your mouth shut was…he was like a steel trap,, he could in any and all circumstances be relied on… to know nothing…
raul replayed the conversation he had had with jorge over and over in his brain,, “you have to destroy it bro,, it has to be gone,, don’t just dump it somewhere,, take the money and get rid of the bucket… one pinche bucket.. you can do this,, don’t let me down man,,, dont fuck this up … again….”
“si. primo… no problema, no problema,, comprendo,, comprendo….don’t worry…”
yeah,, easier said than done…..
as raul paced,, jorge slept..
“jorge,, borrachone… get up.. go get a job.. go anywhere i cannot see you!!!” his mother called from the kitchen… “i spent all morning cleaning your filth out of the yard…”
the yard,, the yard,, why did that make him feel like he was supposed to do something… the yard,, the yard,, what was it he was supposed to do in the yard???
the yard,, fuck,, the bucket… they had taken it off the truck when martin showed up and they needed an extra seat… the bucket,, was in the yard,, he had to go make sure it made it back on the truck.. he really had to do this right this time,, he had to take care of that pinche bucket once and for all… today,, this morning,, right now….
he righted himself, found his sea legs and stumbled out the front door, avoiding his mothers judgmental eyes…
he scanned the yard,, the chairs were still all sitting where they had left them,, in a semi circle surrounding the fire pit… but the bucket wasn’t there… where was the damn thing??? it had been right there… at least he thought it had been right there,, it had got kind of hazy there in the end of the evening…
“mami,, what did you do with the bucket,, the one that was right here??” he yelled into the house…
“now you care.. now you care where things are,, last night you didn’t care.. you left the yard a mess,, beer cans everywhere,, fire burning,, cigarettes all over the grass,,, now you care about this bucket???
“mami.. where is the bucket??”
“your father took it… what the hell was in that thing anyway,,, the stink!! a whole bottle of bleach he used to clean the stink from it……”
chapter six
word count: 433
"You mean the can is missing?" Bud Kramer's shrill scream echoed through the jail yard. "How could you lose an important piece of evidence? You want to tell me that?"
"Well, we took the body out and then called your office. We kinda forgot the canister, until now. Someone hauled them all away." Droplets of sweat dribbled down the super's brow.
"How am I supposed to figure out who handled that baby?" Bud Kramer stepped forward, pushing his face up close to the other man's. "What the hell do you expect me to do now? HUH?"
"I dunno, sir."
"You don't know. Get outta my face! Go on. GIT!" He watched the man scurry off. "Damned incompetence," Bud Kramer muttered. Now what to do. They had the corpse of an abandoned stillborn and very little else to go on. Who had mistreated that body?
Stan observed from a distance, crouched low around a corner, eyes wide. Maybe things would be all right. He watched as Bud Kramer kicked up dust angrily and stormed off. That was smart thinking of Vic to help get those canisters out of here in a hurry. He'd have to slip some extra smokes to that Raul guy, too. Maybe things are going our way, he thought.
Later, Jessica woke up to a pounding on the door. Her head hurt. And the residue of a bad dream lingered as she struggled to get across the room. She felt empty, a vast echoing cavern inside, like she'd lost something. What had she lost? Oh, that's right...her baby.
"What took you so long?" Stan stood in the doorway glaring at her.
"I was sleeping."
"Do you feel better? What did they say at the hospital?"
"I didn't go." She shot him a glance. "I feel okay."
"You're gonna feel better when I tell you what happened after you left." Stan helped himself to a beer out of the fridge and plopped down in the best easy chair. He kicked his feet up on the coffee table. Dirt from the yard still clung to the soles of his big black boots. "I was able to pull in a few favors and get someone to haul away the cans before the Medical Examiner could get to them. Something held him up in the office so there was time."
"They took the baby away?"
"Nah, they pulled the baby out before that. But everything else is gone, dumped over a hill or in the river or something probably." He leaned over and clutched her hands in his. "Babe, they've got no evidence against us."
"You mean the can is missing?" Bud Kramer's shrill scream echoed through the jail yard. "How could you lose an important piece of evidence? You want to tell me that?"
"Well, we took the body out and then called your office. We kinda forgot the canister, until now. Someone hauled them all away." Droplets of sweat dribbled down the super's brow.
"How am I supposed to figure out who handled that baby?" Bud Kramer stepped forward, pushing his face up close to the other man's. "What the hell do you expect me to do now? HUH?"
"I dunno, sir."
"You don't know. Get outta my face! Go on. GIT!" He watched the man scurry off. "Damned incompetence," Bud Kramer muttered. Now what to do. They had the corpse of an abandoned stillborn and very little else to go on. Who had mistreated that body?
Stan observed from a distance, crouched low around a corner, eyes wide. Maybe things would be all right. He watched as Bud Kramer kicked up dust angrily and stormed off. That was smart thinking of Vic to help get those canisters out of here in a hurry. He'd have to slip some extra smokes to that Raul guy, too. Maybe things are going our way, he thought.
Later, Jessica woke up to a pounding on the door. Her head hurt. And the residue of a bad dream lingered as she struggled to get across the room. She felt empty, a vast echoing cavern inside, like she'd lost something. What had she lost? Oh, that's right...her baby.
"What took you so long?" Stan stood in the doorway glaring at her.
"I was sleeping."
"Do you feel better? What did they say at the hospital?"
"I didn't go." She shot him a glance. "I feel okay."
"You're gonna feel better when I tell you what happened after you left." Stan helped himself to a beer out of the fridge and plopped down in the best easy chair. He kicked his feet up on the coffee table. Dirt from the yard still clung to the soles of his big black boots. "I was able to pull in a few favors and get someone to haul away the cans before the Medical Examiner could get to them. Something held him up in the office so there was time."
"They took the baby away?"
"Nah, they pulled the baby out before that. But everything else is gone, dumped over a hill or in the river or something probably." He leaned over and clutched her hands in his. "Babe, they've got no evidence against us."
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chapter five
word count: 565
“este cabrón dice que no podemos dejar esto aquí, que no aceptan grasa. ¿no se supone que esto es un maldito basurero?”
jorge martinez told to his,, cousin,, lupe,, that the foreman at the dump said they had to load the five gallon buckets full of grease back on the truck.. they could not leave them here.. they had to take it somewhere else.. and pay again… this was bullshit.. they had already paid the $50.00 to dump this truckload here….
“pinche fuckin’ pendjos” he murmured as he and lupe hoisted the drums back into the bed of the truck…. he would think of something.. they couldn’t afford to pay again,,, they had only made $150.00, to haul the whole load,, and they were not paying any more of it out to get rid of it… this is what he gets for taking a job lined up by his jailbird cousin raul.. everything that guy touched was “salado”,, cursed….
in the mean time,, they could get some cerveza and think about where… after all,, no matter where they ended up leaving it,, they had to wait till it got dark….
they pulled up in front of la tienda and lupe went in for las cervezas… jorge leaned out the window of the truck… “oye mamacita!”
estella turned,, she saw jorge,, and glared at him..” oh so now your talkin’ to me… you disappear for days,, and now you think you can just call me over like some puta??? ”
“no, no ,, baby,,, i been busy,, i been workin’”… see i am workin’ right now… me and lupe,, we’re hauling for the department of corrections… you know.. i was gonna call you,, tonight… no really…”
estella flipped him the bird.. “pinche pendjo… if you weren’t so damn guapo,,” she leaned in the window of the truck and gave him a peck on the cheek…
lupe was approaching th truck with the 12 pack of ice cold modelo.. he did not look pleased that jorge had happened upon estella…
“mira, muchcacho… esta muy linda, no??” jorge turned and looked directly at lupe,, he winked,, play along amigo,, play along…
“si, cabron… “eso es mucho para ti solo. ¿vas a compartir?” lupe said with a laugh….to much beauty for one man…you gonna share??
with that,, they both burst into laughter,, and jorge shifted into drive,,, “Me tengo que ir, mi amor. Tenemos mucho trabajo que hacer. Yo te llamo más tarde.” “gotta go baby.. we have a lot of work to do… i’ll call you later…”
“fuck you jorge.. don’t bother,, i wont be…” her voice trailed off as jorge leaned hard on the accelerator and the truck squealed back onto the street…
ten hours and 24 cervesas later,, they backed up to the fence in the unlit, back parking lot of manpower, the day labor site that had kicked them both out a few weeks before for coming in drunk… pendejos.. they had asked for it.. let them pay to have it hauled away…
together they heaved the six five gallon buckets full of grease over the fence and into the trees behind the building..
it was late,, there was no sound of traffic on the highway.. it never occurred to either of them,, that they had actually dumped the buckets of grease on the side of the highway,, and essentially right back into the lap of the department of corrections…. but they would have enjoyed the irony,, if it had…
“este cabrón dice que no podemos dejar esto aquí, que no aceptan grasa. ¿no se supone que esto es un maldito basurero?”
jorge martinez told to his,, cousin,, lupe,, that the foreman at the dump said they had to load the five gallon buckets full of grease back on the truck.. they could not leave them here.. they had to take it somewhere else.. and pay again… this was bullshit.. they had already paid the $50.00 to dump this truckload here….
“pinche fuckin’ pendjos” he murmured as he and lupe hoisted the drums back into the bed of the truck…. he would think of something.. they couldn’t afford to pay again,,, they had only made $150.00, to haul the whole load,, and they were not paying any more of it out to get rid of it… this is what he gets for taking a job lined up by his jailbird cousin raul.. everything that guy touched was “salado”,, cursed….
in the mean time,, they could get some cerveza and think about where… after all,, no matter where they ended up leaving it,, they had to wait till it got dark….
they pulled up in front of la tienda and lupe went in for las cervezas… jorge leaned out the window of the truck… “oye mamacita!”
estella turned,, she saw jorge,, and glared at him..” oh so now your talkin’ to me… you disappear for days,, and now you think you can just call me over like some puta??? ”
“no, no ,, baby,,, i been busy,, i been workin’”… see i am workin’ right now… me and lupe,, we’re hauling for the department of corrections… you know.. i was gonna call you,, tonight… no really…”
estella flipped him the bird.. “pinche pendjo… if you weren’t so damn guapo,,” she leaned in the window of the truck and gave him a peck on the cheek…
lupe was approaching th truck with the 12 pack of ice cold modelo.. he did not look pleased that jorge had happened upon estella…
“mira, muchcacho… esta muy linda, no??” jorge turned and looked directly at lupe,, he winked,, play along amigo,, play along…
“si, cabron… “eso es mucho para ti solo. ¿vas a compartir?” lupe said with a laugh….to much beauty for one man…you gonna share??
with that,, they both burst into laughter,, and jorge shifted into drive,,, “Me tengo que ir, mi amor. Tenemos mucho trabajo que hacer. Yo te llamo más tarde.” “gotta go baby.. we have a lot of work to do… i’ll call you later…”
“fuck you jorge.. don’t bother,, i wont be…” her voice trailed off as jorge leaned hard on the accelerator and the truck squealed back onto the street…
ten hours and 24 cervesas later,, they backed up to the fence in the unlit, back parking lot of manpower, the day labor site that had kicked them both out a few weeks before for coming in drunk… pendejos.. they had asked for it.. let them pay to have it hauled away…
together they heaved the six five gallon buckets full of grease over the fence and into the trees behind the building..
it was late,, there was no sound of traffic on the highway.. it never occurred to either of them,, that they had actually dumped the buckets of grease on the side of the highway,, and essentially right back into the lap of the department of corrections…. but they would have enjoyed the irony,, if it had…
chapter four
word count: 527 Words
Jessica made her way home through the bustling hoards of office workers walking as fast as she could. Stan had told her to go to the hospital and get checked out, but she didn't bother. She just wanted to get home, home where she could be alone and sort her thoughts. My Gawd! The baby! She'd delivered a dead baby, and they'd stuffed it in a canister of grease and stuck it out in the garbage. The baby she'd been carrying in her belly all these months...gone now...
".... look man… no panties…"
Jessica maneuvered into a quick two-step to keep from colliding with the hooker. That ragged lady didn't even see her and went on about her unseemly business unfazed by the encounter. Another junkie wandering the streets, Jessica didn't live in the best part of town. Finally she reached home. By the time she'd crawled up the vomit and semen-stained staircase, she felt faint. The corridor pulsed like a living entity in itself, crawling with the murmurs of its inhabitant hidden behind shabby doors, punctuated by occasional screams or huffy pants of sexual exhaustion, ominous sounds creeping through cracks and crevices riding on the backs of cold drafts and bad odors. Once behind her own door, she fell into an exhausted sleep.
Stan paced. Up and down, up and down the hallway where he stood guard. He didn't tell Jessica the implications of their act. Charges for abuse of a corpse? Was a stillborn a corpse? Would they they think he or Jessica killed it? He didn't know. When he'd seen the Medical Examiner's black van pull into the yard, his heart missed beats. That was when the reality hit. They could be brought up on charges. Why had he panicked? He shouldn't have stuffed that baby into the canister.
"Stan, is something wrong?" It was the other guard, Vic.
"Nah, I'm just restless."
"You been pacing up and down this hallway like crazy. You can stay in one place for a while, you know. You're squirrelly today."
"Do you have any idea what the Medical Examiner said?"
"Huh? I dunno. I didn't get to go near him. It's Kramer, remember. I don't want anything to do with that guy."
Bud Kramer! That guy had an international reputation for deciphering even the most mysterious murders. Nothing got past his prying eyes and intellect. And of equal fame was his irascible temperament. The terminator, once he found his murderer, he beat the poor sap to a pulp, pulling together a body of evidence a saint couldn't disprove. A genius! By the time his report went to the DA, if the finger pointed your way, you might as well pack a bag for jail right there. Obviously, the DA loved this guy. He made the attorney's job easy. Stan didn't know how the hell he kept getting reelected, gathering the support of the people, with such a caustic personality. Apparently even they could see the man got the job done despite his mean streak. But they didn't have to put up with him every day.
"And I sure don't want to put up with him either," he murmured.
Jessica made her way home through the bustling hoards of office workers walking as fast as she could. Stan had told her to go to the hospital and get checked out, but she didn't bother. She just wanted to get home, home where she could be alone and sort her thoughts. My Gawd! The baby! She'd delivered a dead baby, and they'd stuffed it in a canister of grease and stuck it out in the garbage. The baby she'd been carrying in her belly all these months...gone now...
".... look man… no panties…"
Jessica maneuvered into a quick two-step to keep from colliding with the hooker. That ragged lady didn't even see her and went on about her unseemly business unfazed by the encounter. Another junkie wandering the streets, Jessica didn't live in the best part of town. Finally she reached home. By the time she'd crawled up the vomit and semen-stained staircase, she felt faint. The corridor pulsed like a living entity in itself, crawling with the murmurs of its inhabitant hidden behind shabby doors, punctuated by occasional screams or huffy pants of sexual exhaustion, ominous sounds creeping through cracks and crevices riding on the backs of cold drafts and bad odors. Once behind her own door, she fell into an exhausted sleep.
Stan paced. Up and down, up and down the hallway where he stood guard. He didn't tell Jessica the implications of their act. Charges for abuse of a corpse? Was a stillborn a corpse? Would they they think he or Jessica killed it? He didn't know. When he'd seen the Medical Examiner's black van pull into the yard, his heart missed beats. That was when the reality hit. They could be brought up on charges. Why had he panicked? He shouldn't have stuffed that baby into the canister.
"Stan, is something wrong?" It was the other guard, Vic.
"Nah, I'm just restless."
"You been pacing up and down this hallway like crazy. You can stay in one place for a while, you know. You're squirrelly today."
"Do you have any idea what the Medical Examiner said?"
"Huh? I dunno. I didn't get to go near him. It's Kramer, remember. I don't want anything to do with that guy."
Bud Kramer! That guy had an international reputation for deciphering even the most mysterious murders. Nothing got past his prying eyes and intellect. And of equal fame was his irascible temperament. The terminator, once he found his murderer, he beat the poor sap to a pulp, pulling together a body of evidence a saint couldn't disprove. A genius! By the time his report went to the DA, if the finger pointed your way, you might as well pack a bag for jail right there. Obviously, the DA loved this guy. He made the attorney's job easy. Stan didn't know how the hell he kept getting reelected, gathering the support of the people, with such a caustic personality. Apparently even they could see the man got the job done despite his mean streak. But they didn't have to put up with him every day.
"And I sure don't want to put up with him either," he murmured.
chapter three
word count: 542
jessa rummaged thru her purse… “a lighter.. a frickin’ lighter,, is that so much to ask?? i have to have a frickin’ lighter in this purse….” she dialogged with herself as she squatted down right in the middle of the sidewalk,, in her miniskirt, torn black fishnets and stilettos… panti-less,, and caring less,, as she dumped the remaining contents of her black pleather bag onto the cement….
“aha.. i knew it… ” she said out loud to herself,, as she snapped it up, shoveled the remains of her life off the sidewalk, and scampered behind the overflowing dumpster closest to the alley….
she spit out the little white piece of dope she had under her tongue,, and slipped it into the glass shooter… she fired it up…. aaaagggghhhh….. the drugs hit her lungs,, her heart jumped,, her face got hot, her heart beat loud and hard in her ears.. boom.. boom.. boom… oh yeah,, this is what it was all about … this was all that mattered right now…. and all she really had left…..
the sun was beginning to set… the traffic was increasing… if she wanted to keep it going.. she had to get going… her heart sank… three tricks… if she could just do three tricks.. she could get smokes,, dope,, and a room for the night… she could do this….
she took a deep breath,,, exhaled… lit a cigarette,,, and walked out into the middle of the street… there was a car coming,, one person in it .. cool cool…
“hey baby,,, what chu doin’… hey baby… you looking for a date??? c’mon man,, you know you wanna…. look man… no panties… ” she smiled her best attempt at childlike innocence just as the car got next to her.. it wasn’t slowing … “c’mon baby what else you doin’ down here… your momma don’t live on this block… ” she yelled at the driver as he rolled past her…
“yeah,, fuck you too,,,” she muttered under her breath,,, whatever…
an hour and a half later,, with what was left of her her three trick minimum under her belt,,, well actually in her bra,, she walked the final block to the roadside paradise inn… she was a frequent flier,, they would surely have a place for her to crash…
she settled into the hole in the middle of the no tell motel bed,, scrabble game for company,, tv on ,, no sound,, just picture,, lit a smoke,, took a long pull off her boons farm,, and cut a piece off her rock… finally… it felt good to sit down…
she laid out the game,, and picked her first seven letters… m-j-c-k-e-e-l… they sucked ,, she threw them back in the box,, and stared blankly at the tv screen as she shook them…
the devo headed news caster was talking a mile a minute,, and no sound was coming out his mouth… blah blah blah…
then she saw it… holy shit,,, that was jason!!! she grabbed the remote and mashed the mute button…
“….. was found today just off the highway in glen ellen,, the work crew from the hunter valley correctional facility was doing a routine roadside clean up when two trustee inmates, pictured here,, jason alexander and raul martinez…” she allowed his voice to trail off…
jessa rummaged thru her purse… “a lighter.. a frickin’ lighter,, is that so much to ask?? i have to have a frickin’ lighter in this purse….” she dialogged with herself as she squatted down right in the middle of the sidewalk,, in her miniskirt, torn black fishnets and stilettos… panti-less,, and caring less,, as she dumped the remaining contents of her black pleather bag onto the cement….
“aha.. i knew it… ” she said out loud to herself,, as she snapped it up, shoveled the remains of her life off the sidewalk, and scampered behind the overflowing dumpster closest to the alley….
she spit out the little white piece of dope she had under her tongue,, and slipped it into the glass shooter… she fired it up…. aaaagggghhhh….. the drugs hit her lungs,, her heart jumped,, her face got hot, her heart beat loud and hard in her ears.. boom.. boom.. boom… oh yeah,, this is what it was all about … this was all that mattered right now…. and all she really had left…..
the sun was beginning to set… the traffic was increasing… if she wanted to keep it going.. she had to get going… her heart sank… three tricks… if she could just do three tricks.. she could get smokes,, dope,, and a room for the night… she could do this….
she took a deep breath,,, exhaled… lit a cigarette,,, and walked out into the middle of the street… there was a car coming,, one person in it .. cool cool…
“hey baby,,, what chu doin’… hey baby… you looking for a date??? c’mon man,, you know you wanna…. look man… no panties… ” she smiled her best attempt at childlike innocence just as the car got next to her.. it wasn’t slowing … “c’mon baby what else you doin’ down here… your momma don’t live on this block… ” she yelled at the driver as he rolled past her…
“yeah,, fuck you too,,,” she muttered under her breath,,, whatever…
an hour and a half later,, with what was left of her her three trick minimum under her belt,,, well actually in her bra,, she walked the final block to the roadside paradise inn… she was a frequent flier,, they would surely have a place for her to crash…
she settled into the hole in the middle of the no tell motel bed,, scrabble game for company,, tv on ,, no sound,, just picture,, lit a smoke,, took a long pull off her boons farm,, and cut a piece off her rock… finally… it felt good to sit down…
she laid out the game,, and picked her first seven letters… m-j-c-k-e-e-l… they sucked ,, she threw them back in the box,, and stared blankly at the tv screen as she shook them…
the devo headed news caster was talking a mile a minute,, and no sound was coming out his mouth… blah blah blah…
then she saw it… holy shit,,, that was jason!!! she grabbed the remote and mashed the mute button…
“….. was found today just off the highway in glen ellen,, the work crew from the hunter valley correctional facility was doing a routine roadside clean up when two trustee inmates, pictured here,, jason alexander and raul martinez…” she allowed his voice to trail off…
chapter two
word count : 534
Jessica's hand trembled as she scooped slop onto the inmate's plate. He sneered back, his fat, grisly face fixed in a permanent scowl. He wasn't happy to be getting creamed corn again, and she wasn't thrilled to serve it to him. She nodded to send the animal moving along in line to get his chuck steak from the next worker.
The security guard at the left corridor entrance slipped a smile in her direction. Stan! His grin meant the deed was done.
Jessica's heart took off, zooming her to become another person in a world where nothing looked familiar. What had they done? They were criminals now, just like these filthy inmates she served every day.
First, screwing around with a co-worker was a bad idea. Then she'd gotten knocked up. Oh God! She was skinny so the baby didn't show until she got closer to the end. Then the little bulge began to fill out her uniform in front. She'd tried throwing on baggy sweaters, whatever it took, to hide the bump in her belly. But that couldn't hide the worried lines across her brow. What a mess! She needed this job, and she and Stan were bound to see each other every day at supper time for the inmate's evening meal. If the super found out about their affair, they'd both be fired.
Stan had been in denial. He wanted no parts of the baby, but it wasn't going to go away.
Eventually, he came to reality about it. They were making plans to get married when the accident happened. She slipped rushing to the pantry for their daily tryst. The fall slammed her to the floor, jarring her insides with a violent pounding. It triggered a miscarriage, with Stan finding her in a pool of her own blood, dazed but conscious. She remembered the pain as the baby pushed its way out without mercy. Her lip was still bleeding where she bit it to keep from screaming. Right there in the darkened pantry she gave birth to a tiny premature baby, stillborn.
"Oh my God! Oh my God!" were the only words Stan could utter, all while sopping up fluids with an old towel one minute and staring at the dead fetus the next. He'd severed the afterbirth with a pocket knife.
"What will we do?" Jessica asked between gasps.
He returned her gaze with shrunken unenlightened eyes. Then he spied the cans of used grease. With shaking hands, he fumbled a lid off one and poured out a few inches of the slimy stuff. It made a sticky puddle on the floor.
Hot acrid fluid crept up Jessica's throat as she spied particles of yesterday's chicken suspended in the muck.
Stan grabbed up the innocent babe and eased it into the thick slime. The child disappeared into its murky dredges with a dollop as the grease swallowed it up to sink the baby to the bottom, displacing more of the used grease, sending it oozing down the sides of the can. He swiped it off with his sleeve and pushed the lid back on, hiding their shameful act.
Stan turned to her, tears running down his cheeks.
"Once the truck takes these cans away, we're home free," he said.
Jessica's hand trembled as she scooped slop onto the inmate's plate. He sneered back, his fat, grisly face fixed in a permanent scowl. He wasn't happy to be getting creamed corn again, and she wasn't thrilled to serve it to him. She nodded to send the animal moving along in line to get his chuck steak from the next worker.
The security guard at the left corridor entrance slipped a smile in her direction. Stan! His grin meant the deed was done.
Jessica's heart took off, zooming her to become another person in a world where nothing looked familiar. What had they done? They were criminals now, just like these filthy inmates she served every day.
First, screwing around with a co-worker was a bad idea. Then she'd gotten knocked up. Oh God! She was skinny so the baby didn't show until she got closer to the end. Then the little bulge began to fill out her uniform in front. She'd tried throwing on baggy sweaters, whatever it took, to hide the bump in her belly. But that couldn't hide the worried lines across her brow. What a mess! She needed this job, and she and Stan were bound to see each other every day at supper time for the inmate's evening meal. If the super found out about their affair, they'd both be fired.
Stan had been in denial. He wanted no parts of the baby, but it wasn't going to go away.
Eventually, he came to reality about it. They were making plans to get married when the accident happened. She slipped rushing to the pantry for their daily tryst. The fall slammed her to the floor, jarring her insides with a violent pounding. It triggered a miscarriage, with Stan finding her in a pool of her own blood, dazed but conscious. She remembered the pain as the baby pushed its way out without mercy. Her lip was still bleeding where she bit it to keep from screaming. Right there in the darkened pantry she gave birth to a tiny premature baby, stillborn.
"Oh my God! Oh my God!" were the only words Stan could utter, all while sopping up fluids with an old towel one minute and staring at the dead fetus the next. He'd severed the afterbirth with a pocket knife.
"What will we do?" Jessica asked between gasps.
He returned her gaze with shrunken unenlightened eyes. Then he spied the cans of used grease. With shaking hands, he fumbled a lid off one and poured out a few inches of the slimy stuff. It made a sticky puddle on the floor.
Hot acrid fluid crept up Jessica's throat as she spied particles of yesterday's chicken suspended in the muck.
Stan grabbed up the innocent babe and eased it into the thick slime. The child disappeared into its murky dredges with a dollop as the grease swallowed it up to sink the baby to the bottom, displacing more of the used grease, sending it oozing down the sides of the can. He swiped it off with his sleeve and pushed the lid back on, hiding their shameful act.
Stan turned to her, tears running down his cheeks.
"Once the truck takes these cans away, we're home free," he said.
chapter one
word count: 503
with just four months to go on his year and a day sentence... jason was psyched when the trustees had suggested him for the open position on the road crew... shit.. it was summer... he wanted to be outside....
he had no intention of running,, or getting in any trouble... he just wanted to breathe the clean, fresh, non institutionalized, air for more than an hour a day... he wanted to feel the sun on his back,, the breeze in his hair... he wanted to have the freedom to leave this place five days a week... even if it was only to board the county department of corrections bus.. and drive to whatever section of the highway they were scheduled to clean up that day....
other than being the tuesday after a holiday weekend,, which meant there would be a shit load more trash on the side of the road,, and they would have to work harder than usual to cover the same amount of ground,, today had begun just like any other day... talking shit with the guys... eating cold stale cereal.. picking up his sack lunch,, if you could call warm sweaty bologna stuck between two pieces of day old white bread,, and grainy apple lunch...
whatever... he only had three and a half more months of this... and then he was back on the street... back in the street was more like it... as he had really screwed up this time,, and had pretty much no home to go to when he got out....
jessa hadn't accepted a single one of his calls.. she hadn't written. put any money in his commissary... nothing.. for all he knew she had moved on,, found some other guy,, and was long gone by now...
just as that thought was evaporating into the rush of hot air coming off that westbound eighteen wheeler,, he spied every road crews dream... six white plastic five gallon buckets,, laying in the gully just before the fence... yes... that would mean,, he and another crew member would be able to grab the buckets, and carry them to the berm... and wait for the truck to come pick them up... sweet...hanging on the side of the highway, leisurely like,, takin' a sit down for a smoke... watchin' the pretty girls go by... oh yeah... this day was looking up....
"martinez,, check it out,, man,,, looks like we are gonna have to mule all these buckets up here and wait for the truck,, bummer.... " jason said in his sing songy best imitation of bill and teds great adventure voice... "dude..."
as martinez was walking toward him,, he caught a whiff of whatever was in the buckets,,, man... the fun was fast going out of this haul... as he righted the buckets one by one,, he noticed one of the lids wasn't all the way tamped down... something smelled funky,, he grabbed the lid, and yanked it the rest of the way off...
"what the fu... martinez!! get over here man,, theres a freakin' baby in this bucket!!!!!"
with just four months to go on his year and a day sentence... jason was psyched when the trustees had suggested him for the open position on the road crew... shit.. it was summer... he wanted to be outside....
he had no intention of running,, or getting in any trouble... he just wanted to breathe the clean, fresh, non institutionalized, air for more than an hour a day... he wanted to feel the sun on his back,, the breeze in his hair... he wanted to have the freedom to leave this place five days a week... even if it was only to board the county department of corrections bus.. and drive to whatever section of the highway they were scheduled to clean up that day....
other than being the tuesday after a holiday weekend,, which meant there would be a shit load more trash on the side of the road,, and they would have to work harder than usual to cover the same amount of ground,, today had begun just like any other day... talking shit with the guys... eating cold stale cereal.. picking up his sack lunch,, if you could call warm sweaty bologna stuck between two pieces of day old white bread,, and grainy apple lunch...
whatever... he only had three and a half more months of this... and then he was back on the street... back in the street was more like it... as he had really screwed up this time,, and had pretty much no home to go to when he got out....
jessa hadn't accepted a single one of his calls.. she hadn't written. put any money in his commissary... nothing.. for all he knew she had moved on,, found some other guy,, and was long gone by now...
just as that thought was evaporating into the rush of hot air coming off that westbound eighteen wheeler,, he spied every road crews dream... six white plastic five gallon buckets,, laying in the gully just before the fence... yes... that would mean,, he and another crew member would be able to grab the buckets, and carry them to the berm... and wait for the truck to come pick them up... sweet...hanging on the side of the highway, leisurely like,, takin' a sit down for a smoke... watchin' the pretty girls go by... oh yeah... this day was looking up....
"martinez,, check it out,, man,,, looks like we are gonna have to mule all these buckets up here and wait for the truck,, bummer.... " jason said in his sing songy best imitation of bill and teds great adventure voice... "dude..."
as martinez was walking toward him,, he caught a whiff of whatever was in the buckets,,, man... the fun was fast going out of this haul... as he righted the buckets one by one,, he noticed one of the lids wasn't all the way tamped down... something smelled funky,, he grabbed the lid, and yanked it the rest of the way off...
"what the fu... martinez!! get over here man,, theres a freakin' baby in this bucket!!!!!"
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