REAL LIFE/REAL DEATH Chapter Four

I'm a little disappointed in myself, it's been a month since I last worked on Real Life/Real Death, which was meant to be a weekly exercise. But my attention has been pulled back and forth between some other projects, that coupled with my extreme laziness has really crippled my RLRD output. But I was able to jump back into it tonight. It's a short chapter, but it felt good to get back to it.

"THE SHAKEDOWN"

Okay. Okay. Okay.

I repeated that to myself for a few minutes. A cop car was parked outside my building. That doesn't mean anything, not just yet anyway. This is a terrible neighborhood. They're around here all the time. I took a few breathes. I could see them, the cops, they were still in their car. I wasn't sure what they were doing. Probably waiting for somebody. Waiting for me. Damn.

I took a deep breathe. I knew the law, there's nothing to be afraid of. I didn't even do anything wrong. So, what's the matter? Quit being a spineless little shit and walk over there.

I then repeated that to myself a few times before taking that first step across traffic.

Just as I made it to the other side of the street, I heard the click of car doors opening. Could of been anyone, I didn't turn around.

"Mr. Calico. Frank?" I heard from behind. Damnation. I turned around and came face to face with the officers. I recognized the older one, I think his name was Kowalski or something like that, he was on the force when I was still a detective. I didn't recognize his partner, some young kid.

"Koslowski," I finally said after scanning his uniform for his name, "Haven't seen you in a long time. What brings you round these parts?"

"Just wanted to ask you a few questions," He said, forcing a weak amount of charm.

"You finally get promoted to detective then?" I asked rather wickedly.

He narrowed his eyes, "No."

Koslowski was a bad cop. Not just a dishonest cop, which he was, but he was bad at being dishonest. He wasn't the only dirty cop on the force, not by a long shot, but he was the only one stupid enough to get caught by Internal Affairs. Long story short, he took the fall for everyone, which allowed him to pull enough strings to keep his job, but it was clear he wasn't going to be promoted any time soon. Since then he's been a bitter, intolerable man, I feel sorry for his partners.

"No, we're not here on an investigation. You know how it is, the detectives get backed up on dead end cases, so they have us start asking around. Keep our ears to the community, you know?"

"Well, what the hell does that have to do with me? I asked.

"You were out at that budget hotel last night, weren't you? Bargain Hotel? Budget Rooms? What was is, Jerry?

"Budget Hotel," his partner replied.

"Budget Hotel, that's the one. Word has it you were in the area, weren'tcha?

They knew. They knew everything. They had to. They're going to arrest me for some stupid shit like jaywalking(did I use the crosswalk or not, I can't remember) and then pin the murders on me. Kidnapping too. Oh fuck, I'm so fucked. And too sober to be clever.

"Yeah," I said as calmly as possible, "working a case, cheating husbands use cheap hotels. What of it?"

"That all you saw last night? A cheating husband?"

"What the fuck are you implying?" I snapped.

"Easy, bud. Weren't implying nothin. You know there was a murder over there last night? No witnesses either. Thought you mighta seen something out of the ordinary, being that you were in the area."

"People get murdered on the North side all the time. S'why you guys won't set foot in there unless you're called in. A few gunshots really aren't all that out of the ordinary."

"Heh," he chuckled, "Well, this was a particularly peculiar case, I think you'dve noticed something, had you seen it."

"Well, I don't think I did, otherwise I'dve reported it. I used to be a cop, remember."

"Yeah, 'used to be' bein the key words there." You keep your eyes peeled. You see anything, you let us know. Heh, maybe Detective Ross will hire you for a little freelance work. Haw," his single laugh bellowed out like a cannon shot blowing up in my face. His partner chuckled a bit, unsure of what to make of the joke. Poor kid.

"Yeah, maybe," I said completely straight faced, pretending not to get the joke.

"Right, well, good luck with your investigations and all," he said, the sarcasm pouring out of him like so much sewage.

Then they left. Those mother fuckers. Those sons of bitching mother fuckers. I used to be a fucking detective. That asshole wishes he was as good a cop as me. And now he shaking me down for information like a fucking crackhead. Goddamnit!

Thank God I got that bottle of Scotch.