Also, I claim no knowlegde of our legal system. I look up what I can, and the research is done, but I do not back up what I have written from a legal stand point. However, just because something is wrong does not mean I want it to stay that way. If you catch a boo-boo, please LET ME KNOW!! I will do what I can to [hopefully] fix it, or warn people of the mistake.
Chapter Two: The Roommate
Apartment of Miranda Faulkner and Jennifer Popik
W. 36th St.
Tuesday, May 1st
"I can't believe she's dead." Jennifer Popik, a sweet, curly haired brunette, declined the handkerchief in Munch's hand, and instead opted for the tissues on the table.
The small but tidy studio apartment housed two blankets and pillows on the floor, a beanbag, a small crate with a couple books and trinkets, two chairs, a dinning room table and a toilet. The two detectives were sitting at the table, while Jennifer was pacing around the apartment, tears streaming.
"What happened?"
Munch and Fin caught each other's eyes, then Fin went ahead, as gently as he knew how. "She picked up the wrong trick, Miss Popik."
Jennifer stopped pacing, her back to the detectives, then carefully turned around. "T-trick?"
Munch nodded. "We know that Miranda was a prostitute. We need to know if there has been anyone harassing her lately. Most likely, within the last few days she was working."
"She's... she's dead then."
"I'm sorry, but yes."
She walked over, grabbed the beanbag and put it on the floor in front of the them. She shook her head, shivering in her old and tattered sweat pants. "I've been sick for the past week and a half. I didn't go with her like I usually do." Her face crumpled up. "Did."
Fin and Munch waited patiently for the tears to slow, then proceeded. "So you're-"
"A whore," she finished for Fin. "Is that want you want to hear, detective? I'm a whore! You gonna arrest me now?
When Fin said nothing, she continued. "Mir was right. You people, the government should have no right to tell us what to do with our bodies. If we can dance in front of men, tease men for money, then why the hell can't we have sex with them for money? Sex is one of the most natural things in the world, and a lot more fun than giving birth or dying."
"Is being a prostitute fun?" Munch asked softly.
There was a moment of silence wherein Jennifer refused to meet either detective's eyes. "It's consensual, and everyone understands the dangers getting into it. Stupid fucking government has no right to tell me what I can and cannot do with my body. I wear a seatbelt when I want to, and I'll sleep with whoever I want to, whenever I want, for whatever reason I want."
Munch leaned in and looked in her eyes. "We're not here to arrest you, Jennifer. We're just here to try and find out anything that we can about your roommate that might help us catch her killer."
She swallowed, and after a moment, nodded. "Mir was so sweet, you know? Everyone on ninth loved her."
Fin looked meaningfully at Munch and mouthed ninth. Munch nodded, understanding his partner's train of thought. The victim from four months ago, 25 year old Cheryl Ross, had also worked Ninth Ave.
"She made all of us feel like we were in a real profession, even though I know she hated it. We all do. But she didn't think it was a bad thing. Slutty, but it didn't make a person a bad person." She paused. "We were gonna start a boutique, you know. In Virginia."
"You have family there or something?" asked Fin.
She shook her head. "My family live on the Lower East Side, near Little Italy. My mom..." Jennifer trailed off, smiling sadly. "My mom thinks I'm a waitress at Becco. My parents hate anything Italian, so they don't go there to see me. Miranda's family's in Tennessee. They're real rich, but she doesn't want to have anything to do with them anymore. They told her that they didn't want her to be a beautician. So she left."
"Do you have their address and phone number? We're gonna need to get in touch with them."
* * * * *
Parents are coming on the next flight up. Now, would you mind informing me on what the two of you have?"
Fin turned to his captain, rubbing the back of his neck. John was in the bathroom, so he'd have to take this himself.
"Roommate, Jennifer Popik, ID'd Faulkner, who'd been missing five days until this morning. Popik said she wasn't with her the night she was picked up by the murderer."
"This roommate also a pro?"
"Yeah. Popik was attending a beauty school that Faulkner had already graduated from. She got her into it actually. Even started a job at a boutique somewhere in Chelsea, but Popik doesn't know which one. We're looking it up."
Elle walked passed Cregan, glancing briefly at Fin who waved. She gave him a small smile and waved back.
The poor kid's second day. She's got to be just nerve-racked.
His partner entered and glanced over at Elle. He could sense the man tense from the other side of the room, and he sighed. It was going to take a long time for his partner to start trusting the psychological advisor. It had taken him long enough to trust Fin, and there had been no reason for him not to.
"She started a new job, but was still working the streets?"
Fin nodded. "Just to pay this month's rent. Her roommate had been sick for more than a week."
"Okay," Cregan said frowning. "You two are gonna have to pay the lovely ladies a little visit tonight."