Length: 1800 words
Tense: past
POV: 3rd
I guess I knew, coming into this, that some of the stories were going to suck. The one I'm talking about is so bad I forget the name - let's only call it, from now on, Epic Comedy Fail. Anyway, it was awful, but I hope this story is somewhat more redeeming. It's a parody in the mystery/cop genre. If it's too over-the-top let me know, because I basically went wild. But I definitely think it's much better than that --other-- one...
I’ve never been a fan of whodunits. So I’ll tell you now. It was the maid.
Police sirens wailed as the two black cars sped down Main. Two AM, and the town was deserted. Everyone asleep, some in comfortable beds beneath wide painted ceilings edged with crown molding, others on moth ridden sofas frequented by rats, at least one curled up in a blocked drainage pipe off by the hills. Two were asleep in the middle of the road, face-down on the cold asphalt. These were the ones who would never wake.
The first of the cop cars ran them over. Nick, the driver, didn’t see the legs. “Not again!” came Buck’s voice through the receiver. “Nick, you gone and fudged the evidence.”
“Evidence nothing’,” Nick shouted back. “They dead, I see it, you see it. Murder, it was.” Nick made a face at the other cop in his car, somewhere between grotesque and fascinated. “Eh, Dan? Murder.”
Dan had nothing to say. The two cars pulled over, switched off their sirens, but kept the lights on. Nick liked to flash her lights.
Buck and Sal got out of the car, and started to put up yellow tape. The lights kept flashing.
“We oughtta stay low,” Nick told Dan. “She might still be here. The murrrrrderer.” At this last word Nick made an exaggerated face, and Dan looked away.
“Let’s go help,” she said, but softly.
Of course Nick ignored her. There was still the perimeter to secure. Nick wasn’t sure she remembered exactly what “secure the perimeter” meant, but it seemed to involve guns. She popped her own out of the glove compartment, cocked it, and gave it a blow though the roof. Company policy, all Nick’s brainchild. No cop should put herself in danger by getting out of the car when there might be criminals outside, she had argued. A car-pop guaranteed the cop’s safety, while simultaneously verifying the functionality of the gun and alerting the criminals outside that the cops were armed, if they somehow hadn’t realized. Nick and Dan’s car had the markings of many car-pops, “character,” Nick called it.
Then there was the “secure the perimeter.” Nick bounded out, her gun swinging. “Police, everyone back up and putchoor arms up!” Buck and Sal stepped away from the bodies in alarm, and Dan sighed heavily. “Arms up,” Nick yelled. “All of ya!”
Buck was crying – he didn’t seem to realize it was only Nick. Sal punched him, and he only started crying louder.
“Sky pop!” Nick cried, blasting one, two, three, four, five, and out of bullets. Everyone was silent. Nick smiled. A job well done.
“Perimeter secured!” she said. “You free to getchoor asses movin’.”
They were almost ready. Nick swapped guns with Buck, it wouldn’t hurt the team – he’d never learned how to use one. She cocked the new gun, got into the car to verify functionality, and got back out. They were ready.
“Gurl, what we got’ere?” Nick said, making a scrunched face.
“Bodies,” Dan said in a bored tone.
“What kinda bodies?”
“Dead ones.”
“Death pop,” Nick called, blasting each in the heart. Company policy. Last thing any elf-respecting cop wanted was a murderer who didn’t actually finish her job. Imagine the embarrassment – police spent two weeks chasing this gurl, and guess what, she ain’t even done it right. Imagine how long they done take to catch a real killer! No, best to make sure it was done right, one way or another. Save face.
“’Kay,” Nick said, ignoring Buck’s “Nick, you fudgin’ the evidence!” “Now, who the s’pects?”
Sal swept his arm around the circle. He was mute, but they all understood him fine. Us.
“Hmmm,” Buck said. You could see the gears churning in his mind, it was clear he hadn’t considered this angle before. He was hesitant to come to conclusions.
But Nick saw the logic. “I guess we is the only ones alive in this’ere crime scene. It could of done been one o’ us.”
“Or maybe it was the maid,” Dan said sarcastically. But Nick loved it.
“Gurl, you done geniused me out. ’Course it’s the maid! Darn, those maids, always gettin’ jealous. What the motive?”
“Wrath,” Buck said.
“Fear,” replied Nick.
Sal made a gesture that represented, quite clearly, Envy.
“No,” said Dan, “She’s an anarchist ex-Russian mafia disguised as a Mexican peasant. She killed them cause they had were secretly CIA.”
Nick did an oops-pop (common side effect of excitement, noted under section 17., part f. of the code). “Mafia?!” She’d never been on so intense a case.
“Yes,” droned Dan. “Top secret.”
“Gurl, gather you clues. We gonna find her!”
They did an autopsy in the lab. Besides the death-pop, there was no evidence of harm to either body. “Damn,” said Nick. “The maid good. ’Lectricity, that be it. Won’t leave no mark, no ma’am.”
“I think it was a super-secret death ray laser from Mars,” Dan said.
Nick was wide-eyed. “The Russians done got those?”
“They were working on it.”
Meanwhile Buck was hiding under the operating table. Maybe it’d protect him, when the blast came.
Nick was mindblown. “This gone be bigger than anything that ever beed big,” she said in awe.
“Indeed,” said Dan, and Sal made a gesture that meant something along the lines of this you chance, gurl. It was on.
They started interviews later that week. Not a lot of evidence to go on. A maid. Mexican, or pretending to be. Super invisible Mars-laser. Very dangerous.
Nick made the rounds. Dan was making smalltalk with her suspect – a good trick that loosened the tension before the strike. Buck was cowering in the dumpster of his suspect – another good trick, show vulnerability so that the suspects drops her guard. Sal was conversing rabidly with his in sign language – now that wouldn’t do. Nick pushed him aside, and flashed her badge – the print-out replacement, as she’d lost the real one chasing the thief-rat who’d stolen her dinner the night before.
“Where you at at 12:34:56 AM, PST, 01/02/03?” Nick demanded.
She looked confused until Sal signed. The maid signed back.
Sal made a gesture that meant, more or less, N 33° 3’ 14.9076”, W 117° 9’ 42.6132”
“Hey, Sal, you let her talk! Woman, who you think you foolin’. I not so dumb as I look!”
Sal signed something that was certainly not yes, she is. Meanwhile, the woman stayed mute. Nick did a roof-pop behind her head (Company policy, scare an obstreperous suspect into submission) but the woman hardly flinched. She had nerves of steel, like a Mexican maid who was really a Mars-laser bearing Russian ex-mafia spy pretending to be a Mexican maid.
“G’job, Sal,” Nick said, slapping his back. “We done got ourselves a culprit.”
They came the next night with handcuffs. Nick parked the car outside the maid’s house, did a car-pop, and proceeded to the door. She knocked, rang, and did a couple door-pops, before finally bashing the window and crawling inside.
The house was inconspicuous, at best. The Russian spy had every detail of the poor Mexican maid down, from the Spanish magazines in a rack in the corner, to the Spanish-subtitled soap opera playing in the living room, and the mop bucket in the corner of the kitchen. “She done good,” Nick said, somewhat in awe.
“Only the best,” said Dan.
The two of them swept out, Nick whipping her gun around, Dan unarmed. “Gurl, where your gun?”
“Left it at home. Oh, well.”
“Gurl, you gonna get hosed.”
Dan flexed what little muscle she had. “Oh, I think I’m fine. I stole the controls to the Mars-ray last night. I’ll zap her if it gets nasty.
Nick was impressed. “You done stole it, just like that?”
“Like that,” Dan confirmed.
The woman was in the main room, watching TV without the volume. She looked about eighty – another clever trick. Nick did a roof-pop to announce their presence, but the Russian Mexican old maid with Mars-laser ignored them. “Damn, she got guts. She gonna be a hard nut to crack, Dan.”
“Those Russians, they don’t ever talk.”
Nick nodded, almost in awe. “Guts, I say, that what she got.” She lowered her gun for a head-pop, ought to get the Russian’s attention, but Dan tilted it toward the TV. The tube blew in sparks, the image snapping away. The woman turned.
“Police. Putchoor arms on you head. Now. Damn, she done not gonna listen, are you, gurl. Arm pop comin’, I warn you. Arms up, now!”
The Mexican maid who was really a Russian spy pretending to be a Mexican maid finally raised her arms, wide eyes on Nick’s gun.
“Aww, gotcha now, ain’t I? Dan, who the best?”
“You the best,” came the soft reply.
Nick advanced, frisked the suspect, and confiscated the cane, for good measure. Company policy, safety over courtesy. She flicked out the handcuffs. “You got the rights to remain silent, ha, what a joke. You ain’t said nothin’ all day. C’mon, how you fancy sleepin’ in a jail cell, eh? You got one call for bail or a lawyer. You gonna make you call, gurl? Ha, gotcha there, ain’t I, Dan.”
“Har har,” Dan said.
Nick smiled.
The trial was pretty short. Nick gave the woman the right to phone a lawyer, but she didn’t employ it. Nick called her up in court, but she didn’t defend herself. “Do you deny that you killed them there.” Exhibit A. Still nothing. Nick herself testified, and Buck too, once they assured him witness protection. The woman stayed in city jail until she was convicted, and armed guards patrolled Buck’s house and Nick’s. Dan said she’d be fine – the Mars laser and all. Nick didn’t see Sal around after the conviction.
After a few weeks and some paperwork, the woman was convicted and sentenced two back-to-back life terms. She was carted under maximum security to a facility in Los Angeles. Never once did she say anything in protest.
Nick was delighted – it couldn’t have gone cleaner. “What you say, gurl? A damn good job, what?”
“A damn good job,” Dan said.
“You still got that Mars laser?”
“Why?”
Nick shrugged. “It’d make a more epic car-pop.”
“’Fraid I lost the instructions.”
“Darn.”
“Buck was scared stiff of it.”
“Bet he was. Hey, you wanna get some ice cream.”
“I’m vegan.”
“Ice cream’s vegan. C’mon, gurl, every self-respectin’ cop done get ice cream when a case is closed. C’mon, celebrate! Was you that figured it out. The maid, eh? You got me there. The maid, eh? I never would of thunk it.”
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