Devil's Nest

Chapter Twenty-Three: Manhattan Scandal

"Murder in Manhattan!!!!"

The quote was all over the news, papers, and currently the new gossip in every police station- especially the homicide departments. Murder in an uptight place like Manhattan, other than Hell's Kitchen, was like natural wildfires in Ireland. It was always quiet with a few bank robberies and fraud, never cold blood murder- especially a murder of the recent Senator. 

The news was saying it was an home invasion gone wrong, that the robber caught Senator Bass trying to defend himself and shot him straight in the chest. Others said it was another scandal in a waking, he was caught with his pants den and his wife shot him dead and left New York with her young and hot yoga instructor. Either way, the old guy was dead, the wife was no where to be found and Leslie has to go to Manhattan to speak to the commissioner. It would be a huge scandal in the department if everyone thought she did it, and proof that they'll go great lengths to kick her out of there with a pink slip.

Leslie sat at her desk drinking a mug of horrible warm coffee, looking through her computer at the current unsolved investigation she's in now and wasting as much time before heading off to upstairs- in that case the next city over in the middle of Garment District.

Miles walked into the cubicle while looking through a file of contracts and information. It only took one glance at the computer screen to make him gag, his stomach twisted and his turkey sandwich from lunch threatened to spill on the old carpet, but he pushed it down. "How can you look at that again?"

The pictures weren't gruesome from the last cases they took in the past, it was the mummification process that grossed him out. Leslie shrugged her shoulders, "I've changed diapers at the age of six, gut fish and snakes at eight, accidentally saw my grandmother naked at twelve, and cleaned up vomit and semen at eighteen. This is nothing."

Miles brows furrowed, lips opened and closed as he think of what to say but he was registering everything. "What were you doing cleaning up semen and vomit?"

Leslie huffed and turned to him head on, "I was a cleaner at a porn industry in Atlanta." She deadpanned.

"But vomit?"

"You'll be surprised how many woman overdose on drugs after filming sex for money. Besides, either I was a cleaner or a actual porn star- money was tight, both paid good cash and I was even promoted to sound check. Tough time to pay for college." She sipped from her mug and shivered from the bitter tasting coffee, even dumping a pound of sugar in the cup couldn't get rid of the awful grinning taste. If only she had money to buy coffee every morning, instead of paying rent.

Miles once again was shocked, he took a seat behind his desk, obviously not knowing what to say. "Aren't you supposed to be in Manhattan?"

"At two,"

"It's one thirty."

"Thanks for being my clock." Leslie logged out of her computer and finished the coffee to give her that jolt of energy. "Going into the lions den with my dick in my hands, I rather have a heart attack."

"Knock on wood." Miles took out the latest car magazine from her desk and flipped through the pages. Leslie gave two knocks to her desk before walking to the elevators.

****

The Garment District was more or less an historical art museum in the making, mixed with fashion and businesses. Leslie still didn't understand why the commissioner wanted to stay so far away from Brooklyn, then she remembered his arrogance and need to be better than everyone and thing.

Leslie parked her new car on the corner of the block, right near the tall brick building promoting an advertisement for Chanel perfume. She walked through the opened glass doors into the modern day lobby, an all white theme and high-quality technology. "This is where are tax dollars are going," She mumbled before pressing the elevator button, not carrying about the looks and flares from the front desk employees she walked right past.