Chapter Four: The Job Part Two

“At least I think it is,” said Stone not too reassuringly.   

“Listen I know there is method to your madness, and those unorthodox methods have a high success rate, but you cannot be serious. The only reason I brought you here is because of recent activity before her death. It seemed a little suspicious and I wanted you to investigate it a little bit. That is all, no more making murders up,” groaned Klein, not caring about Stone’s unconventional style.

“Well, I was just examining the writing style of one Miss. Dominguez, and it most certainly is her handwriting. It’s definitely not forged. However, I can tell you that it wasn’t written by a manically depressed person, but by one forced against her will-““Shut u-“”No Chief, let me finish. You see, when a depressed and suicidal person writes a suicide note, they tend to write in a downward slant, use a lethargic vocabulary and tend to be mentally fatigued. For her, it’s almost the opposite. It’s almost as if she’s amped up because someone put a gun to her head, or more likely her daughter’s. Also, if she was this depressed to take her life, she would be exhibiting the characteristics I was talking about earlier with fatigue and lethargic vocabulary, but she doesn’t. It’s not the robotic writing of a depressed person, but the manic expression of one who is being forced to do an unimaginable task against her will.”

“This was a bad idea from the start. Listen here Stone, you’ve been a decent contributor over the years as a consultant, but your shenanigans cannot be tolerated so can you please bring something legitimate to the table instead of these crackpot theories?”

“I can tell someone is a little unappreciative. Tell me then if I am only a decent contributor, when was the last time I was wrong?” Klein opened his mouth, but stammered, chewed and digested the question over and seethed when he realized he could not definitely answer it. Stone always had a knack of doing that, of somehow always being unerring, to the point of infallibility. “Exactly. Now if you want to risk the chance of a murderer roaming the streets of your beloved city, then go ahead and brush my crackpot theory aside. But if you want to consider all the options before hastily marking this suspicious case as suicide without at least further examination, just give me a chance to find something, just one thing that could perhaps change your mind?”

“Fine, you are right. It is our duty to at least make sure this is just a suicide. I’ll give you 24 hours to examine the crime scene, but if you come up empty my hands are tied.”

“That’s all I need,” quipped Stone, halfway out the door, with a healthy jaunt in his step.

(Chapter Five)

Chapter Four: The Job

                “Stone, you are once again late. I almost decided to retract my offer before, but you got here in the nick of time.” remarked a man lounging on a cushy office chair, the typical fat cat in Stone's opinion. 

                “Save your breath and my time Chief, you’re the one that’s wasting my business.”

                “How dare you? If it wasn’t for the Minneapolis Police Department your little shitshack of a company would never get off the ground! Besides, where do half of your cases come from?”

                “Typically from paranoid rich guys that want us to follow their whore wives.”

                “Okay, where does the other half come from?” Stone breathes out a sigh, annoyed by the Chief’s response.

                “You guys.”

                “Yup, so you better make sure that you follow the rules. Anyway, back to the case.” Klein slides a plain vanilla file with the name Emilia Dominguez printed on it. Stone carefully dissects the file, scanning through old pictures of a twenty something mother posing pictures with an assortment of friends and family, including a daughter around the tender age of five. He notices some scraps of poetry that Klein explained the police insisted to obtain to examine psychologically for depression symptoms. He then sees the image of Dominguez’s head scattered across an apartment wall, along with her daughter."Looks to be a standard murder-suicide. I just wanted to call you over to make sure you haven't gone too rusty over the last couple of months. Just need some extra verification that this is a suicide, you know, to extradite the process." casually opined Klein, apathetic and callous to the gruesome scene, accustomed to even the sickest of affairs.

“Well I am flattered that you checked on me to see if I was still sharp, but you told Marceau that this was a biggie, not some boring suicide. When did this happen?” Klein merely pointed towards the date, 12/25/17. Stone then finds the suicide note, written messily and shakily with the stains of tears haphazardly strewn into the blood-smeared paper, and gulped a little when he imagined the same nerve racked fingers that hastily scribbled across the very same page slowly wrapping and squeezing the trigger while clutching the mangled remains of her daughter, imagining her doe-like eyes widen as the grave realization hits her. But as he further glanced at the handwriting on the paper itself and looking at the scraps of poetry, he reverted back to his unflappable smirk. “This might surprise you, but this is not a suicide. It was murder.”
(Part Two)

Chapter 3: That Heartless Bitch

         “That heartless bitch!” yelled Stone after kicking open Marceau’s door, while tossing his trench coat towards a chair.

                “What the hell is the matter with you?” asked Marceau, slightly puzzled but mostly apathetic.

                “I am so glad you didn’t pick my profession. Who do you think that was?” asked Stone, a maverick look across his face. Marceau leaned onto the wall and took a gulp from his precious Wild mug.

“Let me guess, a hooker that doesn't accept checks?” quipped Marceau.

“Ha, very funny. See, this is why I don't share any secrets with you anymore. What is it that you want anyway?” Stone asked.

“Oh yeah, that’s right. Captain Klein wanted to see you. He said it was a big case that he wants you to take a look at. I guess you are a hot commodity as a consultant?”

“Why are you surprised? They always call me up for big cases. Anyway, it beats the hell out of the shitty cases we’ve gotten lately.” Stone replied. Marceau just shrugged, while Stone got up and grabbed his ruffled up coat, but as he left for the door, he got pushed into the custodian closet.

“Well, I usually express company policy during work hours but I am willing to make an exception or two.”

“No, not that you sicko. I am here to help out with your son’s birthday slash make sure that you don’t fuck it up!” said Sterling cheeringly.

“Well that’s sweet, but I’d prefer if it would be just me and my son to be honest." Stone had to think of a lie quick, he didn't want to bear the bad news to Sterling. "Besides, I am pretty sure that he hates you… a lot,” said Stone sternly.

“What?”

"Um," Stone mustered as much imagination as he could, which turned out to be more vicious and biting than what he had planned. “Yeah, he affectionately referred to you as that easy bitch on the side that mommy says is trying to take Daddy away from him. And before you ask, I am not kidding.”

“That heartless bitch! Not the kid, your ex." Stone nods in agreement, subtly thinking in retrospect that a little too harsh for Sterling, clearly pained that Stone's son apparently "hates" her. "Okay, fine. So what are you planning to do?”

“Well, I am a millionaire with plenty of dinero for my son to blow it on whatever he fancies for his damn birthday, and he better damn like it!” Stone shouted proudly.

“Ugh, I really feel sorry for that kid.”

“I’m sure he feels the same about you too.”

“I don’t get it, we’ve been together for eight years, but your son still refers me as the bitch on the side.”

“Whoa, sorry but we haven’t been ‘together’ for anytime at all.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot. You want a strictly sexual connection because you’re not a man enough to love again.”

“Well, sure when you put it that way it makes me look like a jackass. But I’ll say it again, I don’t give a fuck! No need to be doing another debate on this topic. Shit, I’m already late!” As Stone burst open the door, all of the people in the office wore looks of shock and horror as the two stagger out of the utility closet—with the lone exception being Marceau laughing behind his mask of a hand—and Stone casually waves goodbye to Sterling and hustles out as fast as he can, keys in his hand.
(Chapter Four Right Here)

Chapter One: A Rude Awakening

A noise, irritating, nasally, almost shriek-like, distresses a man who merely writhes in his bed. He slams his fist hard on the alarm clock, killing off the noise. Then he hears a somewhat similar whiney tone across the room, which forces him to scramble to it, and he clumsily flails at the phone in a hurried fashion, before the ringer expired. As he finally reaches, he is lambasted by an outraged voice.

                “Stone, where the fuck are you?”

                “Oh, it’s just the Lawyer. I thought I told you that you should only call this damn phone in a life or death situation. Since you clearly sound nice and safe, I’ll continue to take my extended break,” said Stone nonchalantly.

                “It’s noon Stone. Get your ass out of bed, get dressed and get here quick because we’ve got a case that I’m sure you’ll be really interested in.”

                “Five hundred bucks says I’ll be able to solve it in ten minutes.”

A sigh penetrates the silence. “Yeah sure, whatever. If you want to give me free money then that’s your problem. Come by quick, alright?”

                “Ah, don’t worry. I’ll be right over.”

                A man finely attired in a three piece suit, dress shoes and an aura of fine taste is impertinently tapping his shoes, staring at his watch while consoling a crying huddle of grieving family members. A run down, beaten up car pulls up, with Mr. Stone wrapped in a ruffled up and stained trench coat, topped off by a 1950s era fedora. The family members flash a puzzled look, while the Lawyer reluctantly acknowledges him as a colleague.

                “Hello, the name is Detective Jacoby Stone. So what appears to be the issue here?” in a voice as sincere as he could muster. The mourning family turns from flabbergasted to enraged, with the Lawyer face-palming on the side.

                “What is the issue here? My son just fucking died! How the hell is that just an ‘issue’?”

                “Okay, I take it you’re the mom then, right? Well, can somebody please explain to me the full situation here, perchance even get a look at the crime scene or the body? Where’s Sterling anyway? I’d at least want some witness testimonial and some decent pictures of the body.”

                “Time’s a ticking Stone. You better hurry up, or you’ll be down half a grand,” mocked the Lawyer, transfixed on his watch.

                “Why, you wanna double it? I’ve still got like six minutes left.” Before the Lawyer could utter a word, Stone replied,” On second thought, I’ll just do my damn job.” A couple of police officers approach Stone, one scrawny, nervous and twitching, the other portly, callous, and clammy. “So what do we have here?”

                “Yeah Stone, we were the two officers that were pursuing the victim at the time. Me and my buddy heard a complaint from the neighbors about suspicious activity around the area, saw this kid and a few buds messing around and ordered them to vacate the premises. They then withdrew weapons on us and we were forced to use lethal force as self-defense.” Stone scans the two, and is impelled by the agitation of the other officer.

                “So I’m taking that you were the one to kill the kid then right?” implied Stone, pointing at the intimidated policeman.

                “No, I was. I told you, it was for the safety of not only me, but my partner and those around us,” responded the portly officer.

                “Okay, so can I at least see the body and the supposed weapon that he had, then?”

                “No because the guys from the morgue already grabbed and bagged him. But, the medical examiner Ms. Sterling gave us some pictures, and attested that he died the way we are trained to kill, a couple of shots to the head killing him instantly. Textbook. Also, here is the weapon in question found on the person himself.” The officer hands him a bag with a gun, and some grotesque pictures of the young man’s body.

                “I’m sorry, but the way you described the medical cause of death you almost seemed to relish it, as if you enjoyed killing this kid-”

                “Hey, what kind of bullshit are you trying to pull?”

                “Let me finish. Also, this weapon that you claim was found on this person. Are you sure that it is one hundred percent, without a doubt anyone else’s?”

                “Hell’s yeah I am!”

                “Just wondering because this is a police issued Glock 22, in fact I have the very same type. Now it could be possible that he somehow got this needlessly rare piece of weaponry or you shot him in cold blood and you planted this gun to cover your ass!”

                “How would you ever prove that obvious lie?” asked the cop in a quivered, nervous, voice, his eyes shifting, his skin drenched. Stone prowled over to him, a shark sensing the blood of his prey, anticipating the kill. The cop shuddered when Stone sniffed out his scheme so quickly, so effortlessly. How could he have known, was it that obvious?

                “Well, even if you used gloves and made sure that the kid’s fingerprints were on the gun, I am sure you had a bone to pick with this kid that we will find. Also-“ He turns to the scrawny officer, carefully examines him, and a reassuring smirk draws across his face. The same one that doomed his fellow comrade. “Hey, I know this guy probably threatened you really badly, but trust me when he is found out, I am going to personally gun for you and press charges for conspiring to kill and accessory to murder which will mean spending a good chunk of your life in jail. Or if you ‘fess up, I’ll let you go scot free, hell not even a slap in the wrist.” The cop eagerly obliged with a goofy nod, and soon, carrying his former partner into the back of a cruiser.

                “Time’s up and now it’s time to cough up… Oh bloody hell Stone!” remarked the Lawyer, seeing that he was once again defeated.

                “Don’t worry, we still have to get proof and evidence that will be accepted to court and all of that other bullshit, which I am going to let you take over. So, I guess then it is a push. Anyway, I have to go to a special meeting, and when I come back Marceau, you better have all that shit together.” Stone runs off, leaving Marceau to fully explain the situation to a still infuriated mother that only slightly calmed down.

                “Sorry, I am late. Did not mean it in the slightest. The traffic was busy and I had a hard case and”

                “You are not late at all, in fact you actually might be early,” replied Sterling calmly.

                “I thought you said 5:30, and it is half past 6?” Stone then rechecked his watch, clearly puzzled.

                “I know, I actually just lied and actually came here just a few minutes ago.”

                “Whoa, wait. Hold on, what if I actually did arrive on time?” Sterling gives him her trademark glare, one that impeccably surmised her emotions every single time. “OK, good point. That’s actually not a bad idea, but still hurts me on the inside that you apparently don’t trust me being reliable.”

                “Oh yeah, I’m sure it is just eating you up. Besides Jac, you might have several good qualities, but being punctual is not one of them.”

                “Whatever. Did Marceau tell you about the case and how I solved it in like five minutes?” Stone tried to pass it off nonchalantly, but ended up in a bragging tone.

                “Yeah, he called me a few minutes ago after digging up all the facts, and as it turns out the victim was the police guy’s daughter’s boyfriend that cheated off her, and he decided to take some drastic justice and fuck up at least three lives not even counting the kid’s family. Oh yeah, he also mentioned that I should drag you to the courthouse to testify with the Jacksons.”

                “First off, there is no fucking way that I am going to court, because I am not needed. You guys have all of the evidence, motive, creative and dramatic storytelling, charm and charisma in order to book this guy. I mean it should be a slam dunk, and plus I just really fucking hate courts. Secondly, I just don’t give a fuck. And finally, who the hell are the Jacksons?”

                “The Jacksons are our clients, and we kind of need you to represent the Marceau Stone Sterling Law Firm and Private Investigation considering that you are probably the only one of us that’s actually well known.”

                “Oh I’m pretty sure that Marceau can distract and entertain his fellow soul suckers enough for you to not even miss me. Besides, I have got a lot of cases and I can’t shut down the company for one measly case.”

                “Oh that’s so cute. You think you actually have any say in the matter. Fine, if you’re going to act this way, let the grown-ups talk, but at least attend the damn thing.” A waiter comes by and brings in a couple of gigantic platters topped off with fresh lobster, filet mignon and other delicacies.

             “Wow, we’re going all out with lobster too, huh? You are freaking awesome.”

“Oh yeah, and you better make damn sure that you’re not late.”