Oranges & Roses

Stories Of Where I've Been

Chapter Twelve

“Recognize him?”

Houston had pulled the sheet back just moments before and I was literally unable to do anything more than stare down at the body on the metal slab. This was not how I saw this playing out and it was starting to feel the only time Houston wanted to see me was to reveal dead things.

He wasn’t exactly thrilled to see me, in fact he was practically livid when I stepped out of the supply closet. Everyone was mad at me tonight.

“Every visit with you is a surprise,” I whispered.

“I try to keep it interesting.” Houston moved around to the other side of the table. “So, my question…”

“Yes. I know him.” I looked up at him. “But you knew that because you know him too.”

“We were about to nail him for murdering a police officer,” his voice was cold and heavy on the sarcasm. “Imagine my surprise when it was his corpse I was called in to investigate.”

I looked back down at the body of Victor Ball, my eyes darting from the perfectly round hole in his head to the one dead left of the center of his chest. My brother did this. And it was then that I connected the dots. The gun shots I heard that night was this. He murdered the bane of my existence while I was upstairs sleeping.

“Have any information you would like to share, Ms. De Sota?”

“Where did you find him?”

“You tell me.” His head tipped to the side. “Where do you think I found him?”

“Don’t be hostel.”

“Someone shot the man who should’ve gotten the electric chair for murdering my partner.” He slammed his palms down on the table and I flinched on the inside. “This was too painless, too easy. So you tell me, right now, if you know how this happened.”

“How am I supposed to know? I’m in the fucking middle, Houston. No one tells me anything anymore. Do you honestly think this is what I wanted?”

“You wanted him to pay just as much as I did if not more. Now he’s dead and I have to investigate his fucking murder as if it matters! There will be no justice for my partner because someone decided to take vigilante justice. For you.” He jabbed his pointer finger at the metal table. “If I can’t fry this fucker than I’ll do it to the person who shot him. Now. WHO THE FUCK WAS IT?”

“I DON’T KNOW!” I yelled right back at him. “I DON’T FUCKING KNOW!”

I stared at him, hard. Warring emotions raging on the inside of me. It didn’t help that I was basically wearing nothing underneath the black knee high black trench I was wearing. I didn’t get the chance to change since Rey hauled me out of the dressing room as soon as Gary called final drinks. The girls were startled when he came barging in, several of them started yelling for the muscle that stood outside the door. But the muscle just stood there like what Rey was doing was allowed and apparently it was because Rey hauled me up by the arm from my chair and dragged me along behind him as he left. He didn’t hurt me but it was all rather abrupt. I’d only managed to grab my purse when that happened and the drive over to the bar gave me the opportunity to check my messages. The first one I came upon telling me what was going on, sorta.

Apparently, I was being “escorted” home. That was from my brother and even though we weren’t face to face, I knew he was pissed. There was no way he was cooling down about this one. The next was from Marco and simply read, “Strike Three. You’re out”.

So as I stood opposite Houston still dressed in my uniform for the night, the black stripe still on my face, and only the trench hiding what I’d been reduced to, I wasn’t too afraid of what the detective across from me might do if I didn’t answer his question correctly. The worst was yet to come not standing in front of me.