style="font-size:15px;"> “I know what guys do in places like this Mr. Morrison,” she responded as she returned the fellow’s stare.
“I also know, what they are not supposed to be doing in here. One thing is drugs. I believe I detect a sinus condition you’re suffering from Mr. Morrison? I strongly suggest you get that condition taken care of. That is, if you don’t want ‘us cops’ walking these halls more frequently.”
“Listen, I don’t have to take any lip off a lesbo like you, bitch.”
At that remark, Charlie grabbed the man and pulled just inside the door, out of view of those standing outside. In a swift maneuver, he drew one of the man’s arms behind his back and then the second. In a flash, he popped handcuffs on his wrists.
“Look’s like you will be doin’ your talking downtown, scumbag,” blurted out Charlie, in a very angered tone.
Cuffed, the man instantly backed down.
“Wait, wait. What do you want to know?”
“We want cooperation in this investigation, enough said,” responded Angelina.
His eye-lids dipped in a show of submission as he glanced her way.
“Let’s see this crime scene.”
Upon her request, Charlie pushed Carl Morrison inside toward the room where the body still lay on the bed. In contrast to the dark, shadowy manner the place was normally kept, lights shown brightly in the hallways.
The trio reached room #21. Two officers were busily gathering finger prints and other possible clues from the room. There on the bed was the fully exposed nude body of a young man. Angelina had seen enough corpses for the sight not to bother her. Morrison started talking.
“I don’t know anything about this. I get here this morning, the night attendant says there’s a guy in room #21 who won’t wake up. So I go to the room, to see if the guy is drugged or boozed. I knock several times. No answer. Finally, I enter to try and talk to him. But there’s no movement. I shove him. He’s ice cold. Immediately I knew he was dead.”
Angelina busily wrote in her notebook everything he said.
“We’ve had guys die in here before. A fellow, drunk as a skunk, almost drowned in the Jacuzzi just last month. One had a massive heart attack. Another died from a drug overdose. This is a young guy, so my guess is he died from drugs. Yet, your guys show up and refuse to move the body. You tape off the place and tell me this is crime scene. What does that mean? You gonna shut me down? No fag is going to want to come in here with cops constantly crawling around.”
“Mr. Morrison,” Angelina spoke up, “a man is dead. Someone who was here last night is responsible for taking his life. That should matter to you, but even if it doesn’t, the law demands we investigate his death.”
“I will need access to the list of everyone who came in here last night.”
“Lady, are you crazy?”
Charlie pulled his arms away from his body, sending a surge of pain through him. “Owe!” he uttered in a loud voice.
“Hey, give me a break. People who come here don’t want anyone to know they’re here! Privacy’s a big concern. You think I can just hand over names for you to go diggin’ into their personal lives? Damn!”
Angelina looked at Charlie as he tightly held onto the anguished looking man.
She pulled out her cell phone.
“I”m calling downtown to get a subpoena.”
She hit the button for speed dial.
“This is detective Ramos…”
CHAPTER THREE
The sun had moved much higher in the Saturday morning sky as a few clouds floated by in one of the more expensive neighborhoods of Phoenix. On a backyard patio with a beautiful pool in the center sat an attractive shapely woman in her early forties. Dressed in an expensive looking leisure suit, she was drinking orange juice and reading a newspaper. Cigarette smoke is swirled around her head, driven by a gentle autumn breeze. A grave look was on her face.
Suddenly, before her was a man wearing long-legged pajamas and an expensive looking housecoat. He was forty years old, but his physical frame showed he is in great shape for his age. He looked to have a golfer’s tan, his bare chest visible because several buttons are unhooked on his pajama shirt. His hair had a light salt and pepper look to it. He had a distinguished appearance and easily could have modeled suits for GQ.
“Good morning,” he said.
She didn’t speak right away, but kept looking at the paper.
“You think it’s good?” she finally responded in a catty fashion.
He bit his lower lip, recognizing he was in for a fight.
“I know, I know. You’re mad because I worked late again last night.”
She didn’t look up.
“This is a big case for our law firm. There so much research to do and only so many days to do it.”
“Do you do this research with that office bimbo?” her comment coated with sarcasm.
“Barb…”
Before he can say more than her pet name, she lashed out at him!
“Adam! You come home after midnight, night after night, and expect me to greet you with damned pleasantries?”
She picked up her cigarette to take a long drag off it.
“Barb, I wished you wouldn’t…”
“Smoke so much? Is that the real reason you come home so late, because of my smoking? Or is it because of my bitching?”
She yanked the smoke-stick from between her lips and she squished the lighted end into the ash tray!
“Maybe you would prefer it, if I drank more. Then I would be too damn drunk to know when you came home. Or if you came home!”
“That’s not reasonable,” he responded somewhat sheepishly.
“Why in the hell did I marry an attorney? There’s no talking with you! You bastard, I need a husband. Not just Adam Speck of Harold, Wiggins, and Speck, hot-shot attorneys!”
Tears are forming in her eyes.
“You don’t hold me any more. There’s no intimacy in our marriage. What do you want me to do Adam? Go to the market and offer money to a kid carrying out my groceries?”
He bowed his head.
“Boy, I’ll say, you see my husband’s not interested in me, so how about a romp in the hay? How much money do you want? I got lots. Besides, it’s all right. You see, my husband doesn’t give a damn! Not a damn!”
By this time,
