The night of the big party at the college, Marice decides not to take her weapon and badge with her. She doesn't feel that the room is secure enough, nor is her car. Instead, she asks the motel owner to keep them in his safe, which he kindly does. They keep missing one another when she tries to get it back, so she and Kris go the next evening to get them, only to find that the motel owner has shot and killed someone—with Marice's gun. It seems to be self-defense, but she's still got some explaining to do with Alvin, her boss.
We finished talking to the police and were allowed to go. I was given my badge, but they had to keep my weapon for ballistics checks and evidence. Now came the really fun part. I had to call my boss and tell him that my weapon had been involved in a homicide—possibly a double one, if Jaret didn't make it.
I have to say that Alvin took the news fairly well. That is to say, he didn't fire me on the spot, but he did a lot of yelling.
"I've got a fugitive on the loose, doing Christ knows what, and your weapon is in police custody because your friend shot someone with it?"
"Not my friend, the owner of the motel."
"I don't care! It's too much to ask that my life be simpler. I swear to God, you're going to put me in the grave, Houston. You and your cowboy compatriots. I got them all running off in different directions looking for this Scrivener fella who got away from a team from Mississippi. My balls are boiling in the hottest of hot water, cause it happened in my jurisdiction! I'm an inch away from canceling your leave and making you come back and look. But you witnessed a crime—a fucking murder—! Hell, girl, don't get yourself shot or something. I've got enough shit on my plate."
"I'll do my best. Call me in if you need me."
"I'll do that. Leave your phone on." He paused. "What's this I hear about you taking down some asshole at the football game? You didn't have enough excitement today?"
"That was nothing. And this wouldn't have been a big deal, either...."
"If your weapon hadn't been there...."
"Then we might have two dead men. I know this is FUBAR, but the kid is barely hanging on and looks like the old man shot him." I exaggerated. I had no idea what Jaret's condition was.
"Do you know the name of the corpse?"
"Well, I do. It just hit the wire. You familiar with Orson Roberts?"
I inhaled sharply and my hand started to shake. "I've heard the name." Yes, just a couple nights ago in this very spot. "Some sort of shady businessman."
"I'll give you shady! Man's the best friend of the Governor of Missouri! You've gotten yourself in all kinds of hot water, too, Houston."
"Well, we'll just turn on the Jacuzzi and have ourselves a party, sir."
He burst out laughing. "Oh, go fuck a tree, Houston."
"Can I fuck my boyfriend instead?"
He hesitated, snorting. "When did you get one of those?"
"This weekend. Hooked up with an old friend."
"Well, for fuck sake, try not to get the man shot!"
"That's my goal, sir."
"Go away, Houston. I have work to do."
"And keep your head down," he said before hanging up.
© 2016 Dellani Oakes