CHAPTER TWO

Sasha blew the smoke from her mouth towards the ceiling of the bar. What a dive, she thought surveying the place and its patrons. She tapped her long, pink fingernails against the scarred surface as she signaled for another drink. Mmmm, vodka and tonic, she thought, unconsciously licking her lips. Makes me feel sultry.

She took a sip of the concoction as she again studied her fellow bar companions. Her eyes scanned the possibilities. No, no, no. Maybe. Her eyes rested on a rather large fellow by the pool table. The buttons of his shirt strained against his massive girth. Sasha thought about this carefully. He was a bit too fat for her taste, but she had been sitting in the bar for over an hour and was getting impatient. She watched as he wiped the sweat from his brow before grabbing his beer, spitting crudely towards his opponent who was putting him, and his money, away. She smiled. What the hell.

Sasha downed her drink and fluffed her hair. Slowly she approached the hulk, making sure to sashay as she walked. She stopped next to his beer.

"Hey," she said in her deep, sultry voice. "I can think of better ways to spend your money."

The man blinked in confusion and looked around. Seeing that she was actually talking to him, his eyes settled back on her. "What the fuck, you want? I don't pay for no broad," he snarled.

His crudeness made her smile wider. "What's your name, big boy?"

Still confused, he decided to engage the chick. He had to admit, she was a fine piece of ass. "Tom. Tom Warner."

Hello Tom. "Need a new partner? I'm pretty good at games."

Tom watched as she perched on the corner of the table, exposing about three inches of thigh in the process. His opponent nearly dropped his cue. "Sure, a man could always use a good partner," he said wolfishly. "Take a hike dickhead."

Sasha smiled. Good-bye Tom.

×××××××××

"Oh, this is getting out of hand," Olivia remarked as Elliot pulled up to the crime scene. News vans, reporters and camera people were straining against the police barriers trying to get a photo, a sound bite, anything. They were in an abandoned parking lot, not too far away from an elementary school.

"The serial tapist strikes again," Elliot deadpanned humorously.

"It's not funny El," Olivia said sharply as they climbed out of the sedan. They were immediately peppered with questions from the animated reporters. The detectives expertly ignored them and joined Fin, Munch and Cragen as they headed towards the body.

"Maybe it's not so much who they are, but what they said to the attacker," Munch theorized, "and the killer felt that he was doing us all a favor."

"If that were the case, you'd be dead and buried by now," said Fin.

They came up to where the body lied. The dead man resembled a beached whale, brilliantly white and smooth. His eyes stared up sightlessly, his mouth and genitals taped. He was lying in a heap, as if he were unceremoniously dumped there without a second thought. A long, slim rope trailed from around his neck.

"Tom Warner, 36, former resident of 567 Brighton Ave," M.E. Tamara Warner announced to the group. "Cause of death appears to be strangulation."

"Time of death?" Cragen asked.

"Sometime last night would be my unofficial answer," Warner answered. "I'll know more when I get him on the table."

Cragen and Warner discussed more of the details as Olivia stared at the corpse. She was filled with horror and dread. Feeling a hand on her arm, she jumped. Elliot looked at her concerned.

"Are you ok?"

"Yeah, yeah," she stammered, trying to keep her eyes off the unfortunate fellow.

"Come on. The captain wants us to start canvassing."

She nodded, following her partner, taking one last look at Tom Warner. She couldn't quite shake the feeling of foreboding that gripped her.