Whoops!
Ray Kowalski grunted. He’d been given a pissy assignment - one usually reserved for vice. ‘What a pain in the ass!’ he thought.
A prostitute had been killed and some freak wanting to run for office promised to protect the public by getting the killer off the streets. That meant a task force and a dozen ways of penetrating the field. Instead of
searching for the killer, Ray had been giving the oh-so-pleasant job of asking the hookers on the street for help identifying either the dead prostitute or suspects.
The first six had shown him that flashing a badge or asking too many questions got him nowhere. The last two, however, showed him that the only way to get answers was to act like a john, then slip the questions into casual
conversation. ‘Yeah, like "have you seen this dead chick and do you know her name?" can be slipped into casual conversation.’ He grunted again and looked at the woman in the short, tight
skirt, the short, tight hair and, not surprisingly, short, tightly curled hair.
Stepping from the car, he walked around it and looked at the woman. "Hi," he began.
"Hey, baby," she said, smiling seductively.
He cleared his throat. Something about her was much better than the first 8 girls he’d talked to tonight. He smiled back. "How’re things?" he asked.
"Just fine, baby. Can I help you with something?"
"Yeah," Ray said, then cleared his throat. "Uh, you want to get in my car?"
"Get in your car?" She paused. "Why would I want to get in your car?"
Ray frowned. "Uh, just to talk."
"I’m not much of a talker," she responded.
"Uh,"
"You going to waste my night, baby?" she pushed.
Ray chuckled. "No, I just wanted to, uh… what’s your name?"
"Just call me Helene," she responded. "Now, what’s this all about?"
"I just, er…"
"Come on, baby, spit it out," she said.
Ray frowned. What a tough customer. "I’ll give you ten bucks."
"Ten bucks? For what?" Helene asked, offended.
‘Or is that astounded?’ Ray found himself asking. "To sit in the car."
"To sit in the car and what?" she pressed.
"Talk to me," he said.
"I told you, I’m not much of a talker."
Ray let out a sigh of exasperation. "Fine. Sit in the car and we’ll do whatever you want," he found himself blurting out, hoping that getting her off the street was all he needed to get the answers to
a few questions out of her.
"For ten bucks?"
"For however much I have in my wallet," he growled.
She took a step closer to him, grabbed his wrist, and spoke into his ear. "Up against the car," she said, then flipped him. "You’re under arrest," she added aloud.
"Oh great!" Ray yelled. "Just hold on!" He felt the cold metal on his wrists and tried to break away. "I’m a cop!"
"Sure you are," she said. "Like I haven’t heard that before."
Suddenly, Ray found himself laughing at the insanity of the situation. She started to frisk him and when she hit his gun, she pulled her own. Holding it on him, she signaled her backup.
"I really am a cop!" he insisted. "That’s a standard issue…"
As her partner held his gun on Ray, she moved back over to him and pulled him upright. "Then where’s your badge?" she asked.
He smiled. She sure was a looker - especially now that he knew she wasn’t a hooker. "Left front pocket of my jeans," he replied.
She looked skeptical a moment, then reached into the front pocket and moved her fingers around a little. He grinned wider. "Did I say left? I meant right."
Glaring, Helene reached into his other pocket, pulled out his badge, and studied it. She nodded to her partner who lowered his gun. As she uncuffed him, she handed him his ID. "Then what the hell are you
doing out here picking up hookers?"
Ray turned and rubbed his wrists. "Uh, we’re just looking for some suspects in a case."
"That dead hooker thing?" her partner asked. Ray nodded. "Yeah, we just heard on the radio that they picked the guy up," he continued.
Ray shook his head. "Fabulous. This isn’t my night."
The End