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14 January 2008 @ 03:42 pm
What Goes Around  
“This isn’t helpful,” Zak muttered as he felt around the closet. Various styles of black shirts lay scattered on the floor from his search and he began to hang them on the rack again. “We haven’t found anything.”

“Do you think Miss Contelli planned it that way?” Azrael asked, leading the way down the stairs.

Zak shrugged. “I don’t understand why she would. What could she possibly gain from hindering our investigation?”

It was a discerning question, one he wasn’t sure he wanted to answer. All the same, Zak pondered as they walked to the precinct. There had been no signs of anything, no broken furniture, no slit screen, but Hara Contelli hardly seemed one to leave a mess in her house, no matter the circumstances.

“We need a Plan B. Plan A didn’t work.”

Zak nodded silently. As the rounded a corner and the station came into view, however, he was hit with sudden inspiration. “That boy,” he said, pausing in mid-step. He looked at Azrael. “The one from the other day.”

“The prostitute?”

“Hara said he’s a friend of Miko’s. He must know something.”

The more he thought, the more logical the idea seemed. Of course, the kid would know something if he was friends with the victim. Besides, if anyone had taken Mr. Contelli, word of the crime was bound to circulate the streets like wildfire.

“That’s Plan B? We interrogate a kid who isn’t likely to talk?”

“We’re not interrogating him. Besides, he’ll talk,” Zak answered. “If only to help Mr. Contelli.”

- -

Finding him was more difficult than the officers expected. They drove for hours, checking alleys and abandoned buildings. Questioning other prostitutes seemed a useless tactic; those they could find weren’t willing to talk with the police. When a young woman caught their attention and waved them over, they were ready to find another way to locate the boy.

“Yeah, I know where he is.”

Zak considered her as she leaned against Azrael’s open window. Her make up was too thick and her golden shirt was spandex, which gave her chest little room and forced it up and forward. He was sure she looked enticing to someone, but Zak felt the urge to run.

“He’s with that Contelli chick’s secretary. Biggest bitch I ever seen.” The woman waved her hand. “The headed up Seventh.”

“Where were they going?” Azrael asked politely.

“Hell if I know off-i-cer. Prob’ly feels he needs an escort to his job.” She flashed a smile, her burgundy lips peeling from perfect white teeth. “He’s safe with her. I’m free if you’re feeling… an urge.”

Zak was sure he looked horrified. “Are you sure-”

“Hell yeah!” The woman put her hand on her hip and leaned forward, pressing her chest against the window. “You think I’m dumb?” she asked, her curled blonde hair flopping into the car. “You think I don’t know what I seen?”

“That’s not what I-”

“I tell you somethin’. Everyone looks down on us for our choice of profession, but we ain’t stupid. We see what’s going on. We see what you “big” people do in your free time.” She leaned further into the car and Zak unconsciously reached for his gun. He looked at Azrael, who was laughing quietly. “He meant no offense. We were simply asking how you know the kid.”

The prostitute relaxed. “Everyone knows him.” She pointed down the street. “You gonna miss him. Oh, and if you ever need somethin’, you give me a call,” she said with a wink and she slipped a card into Azrael’s shirt pocket. The prostitute walked away from the car, waving.

“She seemed nice,” Azrael said, pulling the card out and glancing at it.

Zak frowned and followed the less than helpful directions. “Are you going to call her?”

“I might.” Azrael shrugged. “She could be useful with our investigation. It’s good to have connections.”

“You’re horrible.”
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