The knocking on the door awoke my slumber, and I went to cover my face with a pillow to drown it out. It is too early for any nonsense. “It’s the police! NYPD open up sir!!”, the loud knuckles echo. I turn over, with barely a sheet clinging to my leg, and tossle out of bed. One foot tucked into my boxers, and then the other, and I had my grip on the knob. Sighing, and shaking my head snowing with dandruff, I turn the knob and embrace my inevitable doom. Rain clung unto him, hair was purposely bent sideways and his badge brightly glimmered upon his chest. I could feel his hot breath exhale, as he curiously peaks around my shoulder to my humble abode. At long last they found me.
“Come on in, before you catch a cold”, I usher this unwanted guest into my shanty one room-home. “I would have cleaned up, if I knew I would have company”, I say as I begin to kick and clear up the bottles and boxes that stand in his way. The mess doesn’t disturb him, as he moves to the corner of the room to sit in the stained scarlet swivel. He gestures for me to sit, and I fall into a heap at the edge of my bed across from him. “So what brings you here?” I question, like I don’t already know.
“Now there has been a murder, none to recent, that I wish to solve. My job is to look into the cold cases and discover what has not already been seen.” Squinting, he gives me a hard look and continues, “I don’t mean to imply anything, but to simply ask you some questions about your whereabouts on Saturday, April 22, 1978. Any details will be helpful.” He rips out a scribbled notepad, and crosses his legs waiting for me to begin.
“Well that has got to be about two years ago, but let me fill you a drink before I start to remember what I did so carelessly back then. Scotch or…”
“Scotch is fine.” He grunts, and I measle a mug filled with the little drops I had left, pouring myself a few just to get through the questioning.
“Ah, where do I begin? I spent most of my Saturday’s at this place called Ruth's, a little hole in the wall where all the men after a long day went to slurp till the last round was called. Very uneventful, unless you’re interested in the few bar bashes that were thrown into the streets.”
“No, quite frankly. You were in New Orleans right?”
“Right.”
“Girls entered Ruth’s to dance for the men, correct?”
“Yes. Some the same each night, but they changed just as the seasons progressed.”
“Did you know a girl that went by Paris?”
“I don’t know if I recall such a name. I have always wanted to go.” He knows doesn’t he?
“Well. Paris was found not far from Ruth’s. She was brought in like the rest of them. A young runaway. Her parents seek to find the truth, and you sir could be the key.” He pushes his finger onto the notepad to emphasize his point. Shuffling in his seat, he reaches into his front jacket pocket, pulling out a creased photo. There she is, my dear Paris. She had pearls layered on her prime puffed chest, a mole on the outside of her lip, and the faint smile of sorrow. She had a laugh that would bellow far out, turning the heads of everyone around her. She brought life back to Ruth’s, and comfort in many of the other men’s beds.
“Maybe. I didn’t tip her from what I can recall.” I sip.
“She had many men admire her, and follow her. But there was one her friend was afraid of. She said it was you. What do you think about that?”
“You’re a good man, and I have decided to be honest with you tonight.” I hardly chuckle, and reach to fill my mug more. The ice clinking louder than the silence that awaits my response. I sense his muscles tense up uneasily. “She was a mighty fine lady. With legs that would open wider than a lion’s mouth. She never saw me. I would watch her day and night, like any man in love, but I could never go to Paris could I? She was walking home that day, side stepping from being fucked around. Why couldn’t she love me back? I took her. I wrapped her arms tight around the bedpost, her legs at the end, and I allowed her to see me. I had my way. I bit her. I cut her, like the worthless whore she really was. She didn’t deserve my devoted love. She was laid bare for all to see the truth. She is nothing. She was pregnant too. I saved that baby from living miserable years as a bastard. I cut into her, like a c-section, and this ugly mongrel was merely as big as my fist. He was as useless as her.”
His eyes began to bug out of his face, but before he could move to stop me, I had my gun to his head. Why couldn’t he just leave it alone?
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