One Step Ahead

Another Random Hooker ...

October 29th, 2014 :

      Detective Marlena Whitman approached her desk, placing the bag containing her lunch on the desk, as she scanned the table in the corner, hoping to find some cream for her coffee. Spotting a couple of packets which had been misplaced behind a stack of napkins, she scooped them up and sat down, popping the lid off of the cup.

      As she added the cream, a uniformed officer approached, holding a Post-It note in her hand. "Excuse me, Detective, but dispatch received a call just a few minutes ago, regarding a murder case, and they told me to bring it up here, and let one of you handle it." the young woman informed her.

      "Somebody calling in a lead?" Whitman asked, as she replaced the lid on her cup.

      "No, ma'am, it was someone wanting information on the case. Maybe a family member."

      Motioning to the desk, Whitman replied "Put it down there, I'll get on it as soon as I finish my lunch."

      The officer placed the note on the desk and walked away, and Detective Whitman opened the styrofoam container and removed her sandwich, pleased to note that it was still warm. She wolfed it down in several large bites, as usual, since she could never be sure when she would be called out on a case. After she shoved the last piece into her mouth, she opened her desk drawer, pulled several wet wipes out of the container she kept there, and wiped her mouth and hands.

      She then picked up the sticky note from her desktop, glanced at it briefly, and took out her phone. Punching in the number from the slip of paper, she waited as it rang several times, and then the ringing finally stopped, and a woman's voice said "Hello."

      "Good afternoon, Ms. Malveaux. This is Detective Marlena Whitman, LAPD Homicide Division. I'm following up on a call you made earlier today."

      "Good to know someone's finally freed up some time to talk to me." the woman said, and Whitman could almost feel her frustration coming through the phone, nearly as thick as her Southern drawl.

      "I'm sorry you feel that way, Ms. Malveaux, it's never our intention to give the impression that we don't care," she replied, using her most soothing tone. "But there never seem to be enough of us to go around. Now, how can I help you today?"

      "Just call me Briar, Ms. Malveaux sounds too much like my grandmother," the caller said. "I was hoping that someone might be able to tell me if y'all have figured out anything about my cousin's murder, or if you've just stuffed it in a box in the back of a closet like our so-called family wants to do!"

      Something in the woman's voice struck a chord with Whitman. It was obvious that she cared about her cousin, but had somehow been made to feel that no one else did. This obviously caused her some distress, and Whitman resolved to do a better job than whoever Briar Malveaux had last spoken to.

     "If you can give me some basic information on your cousin, I'll have a look at the file, and contact you as soon as possible."

      "Her name was Sylvia Baxter, and she was killed in May of last year." Briar said in a tight voice . "I was out of the country working, and I didn't know anything about it until I went looking for her when I got back, and one of her street buddies told me. I barely got there in time to claim her body before they chucked her in some unmarked grave somewhere!"

      "So you're saying that no one else in your family was aware of your cousin's death?" Whitman queried, wondering incredulously how that could happen.

      Her question was answered when Briar gave a sarcastic chuckle and said "No, I said that I didn't know about it. Our family was informed, they just didn't give a fuck about giving her a decent burial. According to our grandmother, she brought it on herself, so they washed their hands of her."