One Step Ahead

Another Random Hooker ...

      Detective Whitman shook her head, wondering how people could be so cold toward their own flesh and blood. If something happened to one of her kids, she would go to the ends of the earth to bring them home, if only for she and Tim to have a place to visit them .

      "I hope this isn't too personal, but why did they feel that way?" she asked.

      Briar exhaled deeply, and responded "Sylvia had a drug problem, and a record, but they turned their backs on her long before that. Hell, my entire criminal record consists of a ticket for expired tags, and if I turned up dead tomorrow, they'd probably say the same thing about me! My lifestyle isn't exactly up to their standards. But that's not important now, all I care about is finding out if you guys are getting anywhere close to finding out who did it."

      "I'm sorry to hear that, Briar. If you'll give me a day or two, I'll pull the files and talk to whoever the case is assigned to, and I'll call you as soon as I know something." she promised.

      "If it helps any, the last time I called, they sent me to a Detective Weintraub, and I got precisely nowhere with him." 

     Repeating her promise to contact Briar shortly, Whitman ended the call, then leaned back in her chair. That clearly explained the young woman's original attitude, because Irv Weintraub was the poster child for insensitivity. His partner, Keith Harris, was a decent sort, but Irv had once been described by one of their colleagues as the bastard love child of Archie Bunker and Al Bundy. She guessed that the only reason he hadn't been fired was because he was so close to retirement that it was unlikely they'd make it through the review process before he simply aged out.

      She stood up, left her office, and walked down the hall, peeking around doors until she found Harris and Weintraub in one of the interrogation rooms. She rapped her knuckles on the door, and they both turned to face her. Weintraub hitched up his slacks  and gave her a faint nod "Marlena."

      Harris offered a slight smile and motioned for her to come in. "Something we can help you with, Lena?"

      "I hope so, Keith. I just took a call from a young lady who was curious about the status of her cousin's murder case, and she said that she spoke to Irv previously, so I assume it's one of your cases. Do either of you recall the name Sylvia Baxter?" she inquired.

      Both men paused for a moment, then Weintraub snapped his fingers. "Baxter! Yeah, I remember that one. That was the junkie hooker that got hauled up outta the lake last year."

      "Yeah, I think he's right," Harris chimed in. "A couple of teenagers on jet skis found her, she'd been worked over pretty bad, she was probably dead before she went in the water."

      "Did you ever get any leads on possible suspects?"

      "Hell no, and we're not likely to!" Weintraub growled. "Like I told her cousin, or whoever she is, last time she called, the list of possible suspects is basically the Greater Los Angeles phone book! She was a junkie whore, and my guess is that she either crossed up her dealer, or maybe pulled a sick trick. Occupational hazard. We'll never find the guy unless he does it again, or somebody eventually decides to rat him out for a lighter sentence or something."

      Whitman and Harris were both gaping at him in astonishment by the time he concluded his outburst. He looked at their expressions and furrowed his brow in confusion. "Whaddya lookin' at me like that for?"

      Harris blinked at his partner, and ran his hand over his close-cropped hair. "Irv, let me offer you a friendly word of advice: Don't let the Lieutenant hear you talking like that. He'll have you bounced out of here so fast you'll get motion sickness."