IF CHAOTIC NOT RANDOM WAS A CRIME THRILLER
CHAPTER 12
It had started raining again while I was shaking down the Robinson brothers, and by the time I made it back to the station I was soaked down to my boxers. I needed a cup of coffee. Captain Brown had other ideas.
"Wilcox!" he barked, poking his head out his office door. "Get in here. Now!"
Byrne snickered. "Better take your spanking like a man," he said. "No crying, like last time."
Byrne had a coffee mug on his desk that read WORLD'S BIGGEST COCKSUCKING PIECE OF SHIT or some such. I picked the mug off his desk and dumped about half of it in his crotch. "Know what your problem is, Byrne?" I said, taking a sip as he yowled in pain. "You put too much cream in your coffee."
I went into the captain's office and drank the rest of Byrne's coffee while the captain falsified some evidence. "Shut the door," he said. I did as he said and kept my mouth shut. You don't want to speak first when the captain is pissed.
Captain Brown pointed a thick finger at me. "I told you to stay away from the Scumbag case," he said.
"Yes, sir," I said.
"Fuck your 'yes, sir'!" he shouted, slamming his fist on his desk. "You were down at the quarry yesterday afternoon when you were supposed to be analyzing ballistics reports for the Harmon case!"
"Harmon's a cheesedick case, sir," I said. "Open and shut. And I had a hunch about the fourth murder scene --"
"I got a hunch you'll be reading the want ads and picking my fingernails out of your gums if you don't follow my orders!" the captain yelled. "You were getting too obsessed with the Scumbag case -- harassing witnesses, beating up suspects, masturbating to crime scene photos. So I took you off and put you on the Harmon case. Byrne is working the Scumbag case."
I snorted. "I don't think Byrne's the man for the job," I said. "He has some reproductive issues at the moment. Plus, he couldn't find sand in Iyad Allawi's buttcrack."
The captain stared.
"What?" he said.
"Sand," I said. "In Iyad Allawi -- see, he's the interim prime minister of Iraq. He --"
"I know Iyad Allawi is the interim prime minister of Iraq!" the captain shouted. "But why would he have sand in his buttcrack?"
"Well, there's a lot of sand in Iraq --" I said.
"So? Do you think Iyad Allawi, the interim prime minister of Iraq, goes out into the desert naked and rubs his ass in the sand? You live in Colorado. Does that mean that Byrne couldn't find a snowboard in your buttcrack?"
"Okay, hang on a minute," I said, closing my eyes. I thought for a few seconds. "Okay," I said, "Byrne couldn't find semen stains on Paris Hilton's tonsils."
"I don't care if he couldn't find tattoo removal scars at an Auschwitz reunion!" the captain bellowed. "You're off the case! Byrne is on the case! Now get out of my office!"
"Yes, sir," I said, and turned to go. Just as I opened the door, I looked back. "Excuse me, sir, but does Byrne know who the next victim will be?" I asked.
"Of course not," the captain said. "Nobody does. We probably won't find out until we find the poor bastard with his... well, until we find him."
Silence.
"What do you have, Wilcox?" the captain said quietly.
I closed the door and walked back to his desk. I opened a manila envelope and pulled out a blurry black-and-white photo taken from a surveillance van. The photo showed a furtive-looking man exiting an adult bookstore with a large package under his arm.
"Name's Trout. Kilgore Trout," I said. "Blogger. Accounts receivable clerk. Likes flat-chested women."
The captain spread his hands. "And?" he said.
"He likes to hang up on salespeople," I said.
The captain nodded. "He's a scumbag."
"Yeah."
The captain stared at the photo for a long moment. "I guess you better go talk to him," he said. He stood up and jabbed his finger half an inch from my nose. "You so much as think about deviating from standard procedure," he said, "and I'll bust you down to assistant parking meter polisher. You got me?"
"Yes, sir," I said.
"Good," he said, sitting down. "Now go catch me a killer."
+posted by Lawrence @ 11/11/2004 11:01:00 PM