City Of Sin_A Mafia & MC Romance Collection

by K. J. Dahlen

  “I think we should get some womanly advice on that, heh,” John responded, and he would have no problem getting volunteers. John was a very attractive blue eyed beauty. Being secretly voted most sexy, unavailable man by the precinct, women definitely hinted at this attractiveness. Also, he was true to his friends and always stuck up for his people at work no matter who he pissed off. He was not afraid of questioning authority when needed, which seemed to be often. John’s attitude issues aside, he was a very caring, standup guy. The sensitive “bad boy” type was always appealing to the ladies.

  “How about asking Lindsey?” Craig suggested. “She said Bryan just pissed her off about something. Why don’t you ask her what the going rate is for hard time.”

  John just shook his head laughing at the thought of approaching their friend Lindsey, whom Craig secretly had a crush on. He didn’t know if she was the best person to ask, fearing a continuous joshing from yet another friend. “I think we’ll put that on hold, we need to get to the morning meeting I’m supposed to be in charge of. We do have some important shit to address with these ongoing cases. Let’s head on out,” John said, and the two of them headed down the hallway to their meeting room and began the day’s adventures.

  The detectives gathered around the old grey, faded table inspired surely by the memories of experience it held, distracted however by their female counterparts now entering the room in enticing fashion. As the ladies took their seats, a whistle or two were discretely snuck into the ongoing conversations.

  Detective Lindsey Winters blew the boys a kiss as Tara gave them a bow. Lindsey and Detective Tara Nelson, being the only two women in John’s Homicide unit, had had to learn the boys’ style of play on and off the field so to speak. They let the boys think they were in charge, though the girls always seemed to be the winning team.

  On the field, in the precinct, it helped that John always seemed to help them out, him having a weakness to women’s weakness for him. Once again, he was very much loved by many of the women he worked with, and he was polite to most of his female groupies. Lindsey was a friend to him and Craig; she’d gone through the academy at the same time they did. Tara had become a friend of Lindsey’s when she was transferred to John’s unit about three years ago.

  “Alright, who wants to fess up to the whistles?” John questioned. With no response, he issued serious reprimands. “Fine then, all you assholes can buy the ladies a beer tonight, eight PM sharp at the Coroner’s Café. And now on to less important business, police business, of course. As you know the Willis and Price murder cases are um, taking a spin towards confusion since they appear to include aspects of those cases that were high jacked by the Federal Discovery Command (FDC) one district over not long ago. We were told that those cases had later been classified as being solved on the Federal Level and had then been locked down. The murders in these cases that were taken over by the FDC one district over were actually pretty much identical to our Willis and Price Cases and considering that they were only one district away seemed a little too coincidental for me. I requested evidence information from those high jacked FDC cases thinking it might be helpful, and we just received a response late yesterday afternoon. According to said government findings, they assure us that there is no evidence that anyone else was involved in the previous serial murders that occurred in District 4, AKA high jacked FDC cases….” He paused and gazed around.

  The detectives were listening and waiting for the rest.

  “Even if this were true, our murders of Mr. Willis and Mr. Price could still be copycat murders as we discussed, and there could possibly be more murders coming. Mr. Willis and Mr. Price were both killed in the same way as the victims of the serial killer in District 4, blunt force trauma to the head from a piece of metal piping. This being a unique way to plug someone would seem reason enough to raise a red flag. More interestingly is the fact that we actually found a piece of piping at the Price scene, and that it came from the same abandoned factory as the piping found in one of the three cases the FDC took over. The only reason we know that is because I was assisting District 4 detectives up until the FDC took charge. Right now, we need to look more in depth at the similarities our two cases have with each other. This can help us draw a more firm association between our cases and the previous cases as evidence is hopefully shared with us.”

  Some of the detectives nodded in agreement to this.

  “The problem I’m expecting however, as always, is that our federal friends will continue to be less than cooperative in assisting us with our “small time, shit crime” cases, which is how our asses are viewed sometimes out their rearview mirror. They can snatch up any cases they want, and then don’t have to share a damn thing with us if they don’t want to about why. However, they encourage us to request their assistance at any time, heh. Well, I’ll work on trying to get more of the basic crime fighting essentials from the “gods” for our petty case assistance, while you guys can work with what we have so far on our own cases. I hope that sounds simple enough, but really we need to look into this as upwards on the to do list. I have a bad feeling that this could turn into one of those damn patterns on an IQ test that stares you in the face until you wake up with a hangover.”

  After some additional words added to his crime fighting pep talk, John dismissed his team of eight to carry out their deductive think tank sessions of the day. His detectives, working in their two teams of three followed by John’s lead team of Craig and Lindsey began their day looking more in depth into the two local cases in question, as well as other cases of importance building up on Homicide’s To-Do list.

  John then returned to his office. He closed his eyes and began to process the information his team had collected thus far, and the information he was keeping from them. He had had an informant introduce an interesting theory to him. The District 4 cases were not solved as officially marked, they were simply, locked down. And if the feds were covering up those cases, then who was there to keep them in check, no one.

  This thought raised a hair or two on John’s neck. What would be the motive to do so in the first place? His informant had not indicated knowledge of the motive, only that the true conclusion of the three FDC murder cases barring similarities to John’s had received an informal, highly classified pass. This of course worried John to a point. If that were true then the feds were probably feeding him bullshit, and he should perhaps just play along until he could answer enough of his own questions. He’d wait and see if any further case information would voluntarily be sent under the distress signal of his so called “copycat theory.” He would welcome a copycat over a cover-up any day, however just as a picture is, a warning from a good informant can be worth a thousand words. This was especially true for informants on the inside, whom John knew, and up to now anyway, he had no reason to distrust.

  2

  Finally, with the frustrating, seemingly repetitive day behind him, John took his scheduled field trip to one of the neighborhood hotspots. He pulled into his destination with a sigh of annoyance and a thirst for relief. As he entered the Café, he turned to see the flyers on the sidewall that were attempting to grab the attention of fans of many genres of music ranging from the lighter side of heavy metal to the classic throwbacks of country. It painted a picture of well, a beer, and whatever else was paired with the beer in the song. They had some really good bands here at the Coroner’s Café, and John enjoyed coming here to spend time with his buddies from work. Sometimes Caroline would come with him, but most of the time he’d just meet some of the guys from work for a few beers and some music or to watch a game. John loved football and the Café, which of course was really a bar, had a huge separate wing away from the bands that was used just for game time. The big screen TV’s were sweet and there were lots of sports-themed memorabilia that decorated the “man cave” in style.

  There were also many beautiful women patrons that decorated the Café with style. John of course had a better chance to enjoy those decorations when he
left Caroline at home. He was not a player. However, he enjoyed viewing fine art just like any other hot blooded man, especially a drunk one. Although he did have many offers for a “romantic getaway,” he limited his viewing to bar room enjoyment only. He loved Caroline very much and would never have a one night stand, even for some of those hot, tempting women whom sometimes approached his group of friends. John grabbed a couple of flyers. One was a heavy metal band he enjoyed coming to see, and the other, a new country group that someone had recommended he check out. As he headed through the crowds, the music lit up the room and echoed like a festival of sound deep into the soul.

  “So what’s the score?” John yelled out as he entered “The Cave,” as it was called. The TV’s were lighting up the darkened bar that reflected a melting pot of old tavern and sports theme. The wooden tables and chairs, barstools, and background walls were actually brought to life from the combination.

  “I’m not sure!” Lindsey called out. “I’ve been drinking free beer for an hour now!” She smiled loudly as she held up her beer with a freshly popped top.

  “These bitches dun broke me!” Trent laughed out loud. “I can whistle at their hot asses now though can’t I?” Trent downed his watered down scotch and gave Lindsey a wink.

  John came back, “I’ll tell you what Trent, if you get one of these other hot asses here to whistle at you, I’ll buy you a drink. And slipping whores a pocket of change to pucker their lips don’t count I’m afraid.”

  This brought a crowd of laughter from John’s audience, and Craig weighed in from his suggestion box as well, “I think he’s going to have to whore himself out to get some woman to buy him another scotch. How’s your average on the one night stands, Trent? Maybe you need some advice from a pro to get that ‘Why don’t you buy me a drink?’ line driving these women wet and wild.”

  Lindsey rolled her eyes at Craig’s egotistical chauvinism. “You boys are all the same, a whore in men’s clothing, with your one night stand pursuits.”

  Tara laughed as she wondered who was the whore tonight, her or Seth; this being since she asked him over tonight, yet he had used Craig’s drink buying line on her. ‘I guess we can take turns, ha.’ She laughed to herself.

  Seth smiled at Tara and privately gave her a wink of humor. He knew he had laughingly given her that line tonight and that they would be enjoying each other’s company late into the morning hours once again. The two did flirt with the occasional stands that somehow, oddly led to the laid position.

  Fortunately, after several beers and far into the third quarter, John’s team had pulled ahead. He looked over to see Seth and Tara deep into um, well each other, and Craig attempting lousily to console Lindsey about her problems with her boyfriend Bryan. Of course, Craig was pushing a breakup as her solution. He wanted Lindsey for himself, but was too scared to come right out and say it. It seemed to John that after this conversation it would however be less of a secret.

  From behind John, Trent arrived with a shiny new glass of scotch.

  “Well, well what lucky lady got to spend coin on your ass?” John razzed Trent.

  “The bartender, she’s new and all I had to do was throw a few compliments her way. Course, I had to pull my badge when her extra-large boyfriend waltzed up behind me. I guess this is my parting gift.”

  “And they say lost love leaves one empty inside. You have a chance to warm yourself up with that glass of faded memories my friend. Take hold of your life before it is watered down with too much emotion.”

  “Shut the hell up with your drunk ass poetic bullshit,” Trent replied trying not to break down into tears of laughter. “You shoulda’ seen that dude, big as a grizzly bear, three times the size of one of us.”

  “Aw, you could have taken him,” John said. “Bet I could have taken him down.”

  “Yeah, well not all of us have spent all our free time in the damn gym trainin’. I ain’t seen many people fight as well as you, but I dunno John, this dude was huge!”

  “Alright, quit your damn whining. Here’s a ten. Get yourself a double, man.”

  “Thanks, I can’t believe I left my extra ‘roll-o-dough’ at home. It’s still sittin’ on my damn nightstand.”

  “Oh, really, guess I’ll go steal it on the way home,” John stated humorously.

  Trent and John laughed as they turned their attention back to the game. As John’s team struggled to stay on top, he struggled to keep his mind from drifting to other thoughts. He had so much on his mind from work, and at home, he still had to make things right with Caroline. Thinking about it, he knew he was very rude to her this morning, and he was putting off getting home. He had just been so stressed out that his mind was not cooperating with keeping his mood swings down. He could feel the different moods coming on, feel them changing, rotating. His agitated calmness would turn to anger, to sadness and depression, or sometimes to a rush of thoughts, emotions, and actions all at once it seemed. He could feel the turning wheel of all these moods, but felt he could not control them as well as he wanted to.

  John thought about Dave, his adoptive father. Captain Dave Goldman had pretty much saved John’s life. He’d made life better for John and his brothers James and Jason, yet there was still so much pain and anger inside of John. The life of physical and emotional abuse growing up had come from within his home, from his parents who had serious drug and alcohol addictions. This abuse had predominately of course, come from his father. Those difficult early years of John’s life had molded him in many ways, and although Dave had come along in his early adolescence, the emotional damage from the many years before could never be simply erased. This damage seemed to have led to his current emotional issues of mood swings, and difficulty building trust in others. Sometimes this unfairly hurt those around him, especially those closest to him. This morning his lack of control over his anger had unfairly targeted Caroline, and he knew he had to make it up to her.

  Disgusted by a last minute interception ending the sure win of his team, John headed to the men’s room to take out his anger on a vacant urinal. ‘Damned quarter back.’ John thought. ‘Who throws a pass like that unless its sabotage? That guy better keep a low profile tonight, giving away the game like that.’

  Turning past the last set of tables, John headed down the hallway to the bathroom. He noticed that there were more flyers lining the walls. They all seemed to blur together however in the dimmed lighting of the hall, the effect probably accented by the lite beer on his tongue. He’d have to remember to look at his flyers again later. Maybe he could offer to bring Caroline to see his favorite heavy metal band as a truce gift, hmm, might work.

  As John entered the bathroom there were only three other guys inside, and they were all talking about the game. It seemed to be a two to one ratio in favor of the winning team. After pissing off the urinal, John approached the sinks, and somehow the men’s friendly discussion had turned into an angry argument, sadly lacking good sportsmanship. Two of the men began shouting after the lone fan had had enough bullshit come his way. The third man soon raised his voice and began threatening the sore loser, who happened to be a fan of John’s losing squad.

  John however, liked to limit himself from bar room brawls, especially when he’d been drinking, um, too much. He decided that he should probably head back out the door and let any interested bouncers deal with it. He had to cross to the other side of the room to reach the exit, which seemed doable. He began slowly walking around the trio, which put him sliding behind his fellow fan. John tried to keep an eye on the men while looking towards the door as well, which seemed a little blurry at this point. While approaching the doorway, he was startled by a fourth man entering the restroom.

  “What’s going on?” the man asked, as he entered to hear the commotion that had been difficult for anyone to hear outside of the immediate hallway area.

  John looked directly toward the entering long haired man, who seemed like he was dressed for a business meeting or possibly had come from one earlier in
the day’s hours. “I’m a…I’m really not sure.” As he turned to slide past the incoming man, he soon however discovered a different view of the men’s restroom as his legs were swept out from under him after receiving a strong leg sweep from behind. As John’s head hit the floor, he looked up to see that all three football fans seemed to have formed a new team of their own, and they evidently were no fan of his. He cringed as the team’s walk-on player, the long haired man who’d just entered, then kicked him in the ribs. The three gentlemen that were behind him then grabbed John and pulled him up as the mixture of alcohol and oncoming concussion left him at a disadvantage.

  Just as John felt the punches landing upon his abdomen, he heard the apparent message.

  “This is a warning Lieutenant; it’s not good to pry. And I suggest your friends hear a creative version of this event. Football fans can be quite violent you know, especially when you’re on the losing side, John. I hope that we don’t have to play this game again.”

  John then found himself shoved hard to the floor, and he covered himself as he was surrounded from above. The cold, hard steel of the gun pointed at him deterred him from advancing as they exited. The fact that they had pulled his gun off of him left John even more helpless and out of options. All he could do was stay down close to the ground as he was told to do by the men and by his own pounding head and aching body.

  John slipped out of consciousness as the last of the men disappeared out the door to anonymity.

  John raised his head to find the eyes of a disappointed onlooker. Her soft eyes grimaced a wave of disapproval that John knew was actually concerned sincerity for his aching body, well at least he hoped it was. Her hand gently caressed his face as she ran her fingertips down his leg and let out a sigh of concern. Her lips gave gradual thought, and then reluctantly revealed her inner feelings on the current situation.