Chapter 2.1
September 15th 1990
Reaching forward, her arms gripping the hot faucet of the bath tub, Tiffany gripped the handle and twisted calmly, the sound of water gushing from the tap and cascading into the grimy, almost white bath stopping instantly as she released the handle and retreated to the other end of the tub, her back feeling the freezing cold of the porcelain, the contrast between that and the piping hot water making her both shiver and smile at once. The bubbles covering her body were cool against her soft skin as she felt the water beneath begin to open every pore on her body, infiltrating her skin and cleansing every inch. As she leaned her head back, her hair held aloft, away from the water by the black ribbon she had just seconds ago secured around her blonde, shoulder length hair, she closed her eyes and slid further down, allowing the water to creep up to her neck as she took a deep breath and opened her eyes once more. The steam, rapidly rising from the water, began to spiral into the air, dancing a ballet of enchanting beauty as her eyes followed it carefully up to the top of the room, whereupon it spread like smoky butter across the crudely plastered bathroom ceiling, drifting to the four corners of the room and beginning the dance all over again. This was without a doubt her favourite part of the day, no mistake. Her only grumble was that there was no television set in here, but she couldn't argue with that. The amount of stories she'd heard over the years regarding electrical goods falling into bath tubs was enough to make the skin crawl, after all, one slip and that was it. She closed her eyes again and let her head roll, up, down and side to side as the heat of the water began to make her feel sleepy, the noise from the living room being the only thing to keep her awake as she could hear Evan, her roommate of the last nine months, hollering at the NFL game. She'd dropped on with Evan, no doubt about that. Answering an ad in the local paper, Tiffany had been pleasantly surprised to find he wasn't a bleary eyed drug addict, but in fact he was a student at the university down the road. Mommy and daddy were apparently willing to bank roll his dreams of becoming a film maker and funded his expensive little lifestyle. The apartment though was different. They weren't willing to bank roll him to such extremes, which had led to Evan taking a part-time job mopping floors down at the local K-Mart, and eventually placing an ad for a roommate in the local paper. His eyes had more or less fallen out of his skull as he answered the door to Tiffany, the playful smile and seductive way she fluttered her eyelashes paying off no end as she found herself offered the room right there and then, Evan deciding to waiver the first two weeks and telling her to just pay him whenever she could. Things had changed a little recently though, and she could sense it now more than ever. She was late with her rent, as she was every fortnight, and it was beginning to get old. She'd considered offering herself up to him on a plate at one point, a kind of 'services rendered' way of settling the debt, but she just couldn't do it. She was an evil bitch, no mistake, but she could never sell herself off for something as lowly as rent. She wouldn't be able to look herself in the eye, and that afternoon that Danny McBride had forcibly taken her against her will had more or less spelt the end of such activity for her, the skin up and down her body still feeling dirty after all this time. Tiffany had the feeling that no amount of baths would ever get rid of that feeling, the disgust at being violated, it couldn't be wiped away with a bar of soap and a moist sponge. It had etched itself on her very being and refused to let go, no matter what revenge she had extracted soon after. Half asleep, she found herself awoken from her thoughts as the phone began to ring down the hall, reverberating through every room in the apartment as she heard Evan begin to moan as he closed the living room door and grabbed the receiver from the wall.
"Hello!" Evan sternly grunted into the receiver as he answered.
Tiffany playfully scooped up a hand full of bubbles and brought them to her face, her palm held flat in front of her as she pursed her lips together and quickly blew, the snowy ballet of scented bubbles rapidly flying in each and every direction as they floated gently through the bathroom and scattered to the floor. She pricked her ears again as Evan continued his conversation.
"Maybe she is, maybe she isn't. Who wants to know?" Evan's tone carried an air of stubbornness.
Tiffany sat up, concern creeping over her as the phone call began to get interesting, the water sloshing around her waistline, the bubbles sliding gracefully across her naked chest and dripping slowly into the searing water beneath as it began to level out and calm.
"Okay, okay." Evan backed down. "Give me a minute."
As his voice grew louder, Tiffany heard footsteps. Slow, gentle, almost as though Evan was trying to move undetected as Tiffany spun her head, his silhouette catching her eyes as it appeared on the other side of the frosted glass of the bathroom door. As the door burst open she panicked and allowed her body to slide instantly beneath the water again, rushing over every inch and soaking her from the tips of her toes to the last hair sat upon her head.
"Tiffany!" Evan raised his voice as the water spilled over the side of the bath, the waves from her sudden movement making a mess of the wooden floor. "Phone call!"
Pushing herself back up and raising her head until her chin sat on the surface of the water, Tiffany released her fingers from pinching her nostrils together and turned to look at Evan, stood with his hands on his hips and a pissed off look as he examined the state of the floor.
"God damn, you stupid bitch!" He spat as she shook her head slightly, the water running down her face. "You'd better clean this fucking room up."
Tiffany sat up a little further and took in the sight of the water, pooled around the bath tub.
"Holy fuck, I'm so sorry." She replied. "You caught me by surprise, I didn't know what to do."
"For fucks sake. This floor better not leak through to downstairs!" Evan answered as he turned his attention towards her.
"I'll clean it up sweetface." She smiled kindly. "I promise. Who's on the phone?"
"Some guy. Won't tell me his name, just asked for you. Sounds like some old perve to me though. Just see that you clean this bathroom up when you're done!" He turned to leave, grabbing the handle of the bathroom door as he left, turning suddenly as Tiffany reached over the side of the bath and grabbed the towel from the floor.
"Hey, Tiff!" He grinned as he caught her leaning over, her breasts slightly exposed. She looked up, shocked at the drooling, delirious state he had entered as he allowed his eyes to crawl across her upper torso, the bubbles clinging to her breasts, gleaming under the presence of the bath water.
"What?" She snapped as she suddenly raised the towel, shielding herself from his perverted gaze.
"Thanks for the image." He laughed. "I'll take that to bed with me tonight!"
And with that Evam slammed the bathroom door shut and made his way back to the living room, the NFL filling the apartment once more as he un-muted the television and returned to the game. She only took a second to quickly dry herself off, wrapping the black, semi dry, towel around her body as she emerged from the bathroom and found the phone laying on its side, the mystery caller awaiting her on the other end. Gripping the receiver, her other hand holding the towel secure against her torso, she lifted it to her ear and spoke.
"This is Tiffany..." She spoke, her distinctive voice carried down the line.
"This is you-know-who..." The male voice said, as it filtered through the ear piece and instantly struck home.
"Well it's about time." Tiffany relaxed as she allowed a smile to form on her lips.
"These things take time Miss Valentine." He answered, the noise in the background indicating a public call box, the crackle on the line making it hard for her to hear.
"So you have it?" She asked.
"When can we meet?" Her caller whispered, the previous question seemingly ignored.
"Whenever," Tiffany replied. "I'm free whenever you are. Do you have it?"
"One hour." He snapped back. "The underpass of the freeway, near the 7/11. I'll be waiting, and Miss Valentine..."
"Yes?" Her response filled with anticipation.
"Come alone... Am I understood?"
"Of course." Tiffany rolled her eyes, she had just as much intention of keeping this little arrangement under wraps as her gentleman caller did.
"One hour then..." He whispered once more.
And with that the line went dead, the click highly audible as Tiffany's acquaintance replaced the phone and ended the conversation. He hadn't given her much hope, but at least he'd given her something. Why else would he want to meet? So suddenly and out of the blue too. Placing the phone back in the cradle, Tiffany spun on the spot and sprinted back to her room, her wet feet sliding, struggling for traction as she raced across the lacquered, wooden floor of the apartment and towards her only place of privacy. One hour wasn't long. Not long at all.
Leaving the solitude of her cluttered bedroom behind her, Tiffany turned and yanked the door closed, inserting the key and twisting it clockwise, hearing the lock snap in the chamber with a secure 'click' she had come to appreciate since sharing with somebody else. Lifting her purse slightly, sliding open the zipper, she slipped the key inside and began to make her way down the hall and to the front door of the apartment, stopping to touch up her now dry hair in the mirror and make sure she looked every inch as good as she felt. Her Iron Maiden t-shirt, clinging tightly to her upper body gave her a curvy, yet slim and attractive look, while her short skirt and black stockings lent a sexy air to her presence, the knee length, black leather boots finishing off the image and adding a touch of 'don't fuck with me' to whoever lurked the Chicago shadows on her little venture out. After spending a couple of minutes playing with her hair, she turned and grabbed her jacket from the coat stand, the faux-fur lining of the black leather feeling sensual against her bare skin as her arms slipped gently through the sleeves. She had just about reached the door, heading past the living room, when suddenly Evan appeared, his face flat, no emotion, just a blank stare. Tiffany stopped dead in her tracks as Evan simply stood and gazed at her, not moving an inch as he stood, arms folded across his chest. Slightly perplexed, Tiffany realised she had no time for games and turned sideways, about to squeeze between Evan and the hallway wall. As she turned and approached him, he moved quickly, pivoting ninety degree and facing her full on, pressing her against the wall and slamming both hands against the damp plaster, one either side of her head as Tiffany stopped and stared at him as he leaned in, a smile slowly forming.
"Two weeks rent you owe me Tiff." He sneered as he loomed closer. "That's a lot of money to a girl like you I guess."
"Not that much." Tiffany quickly answered. "You'd be amazed the ways a 'girl like me' could get her hands on some money Evan."
"I bet I would." His nose was more or less touching hers as he looked her over, his hand moving from the wall and running through her hair. "But why go to all that trouble when the answer's right here, staring us in the face."
Tiffany smiled and narrowed her eyes, the excitement written across Evan's face plainly obvious.
"Oh it wouldn't be any trouble." She replied with a touch of laughter, playing with his mind.
Without warning, she brought her hands up and placed them on his chest, her head leaning in as she slowly craned her neck forward, her lips to his as she lifted the sole of one of her boots and pressed it against the wall, giving her a touch of leverage, something she'd need to move a man with the physique Evan possessed. Pushing gently, she found him easier than she'd first imagined as she remained close, pushing him into the opposite wall, his arms slowly falling to his sides, he seemed to be liking this. As he felt the wall, cold and firm, up against his back, he lowered his eyes and stared directly into her soul, her beautiful eyes dancing, a flicker of sexual torment dwelling deep within. He was amazed to find one of her hands had now left his chest and disappeared below. Closing his eyes and awaiting the heaven he had envisioned since the day she had first turned up enquiring about the room, Evan was awoken from his tranquil state of expectation as a thud sent a tremor through the wall. Opening his eyes, he found Tiffany take a small step back, her hand still remaining at groin level as Evan looked down, the nausea washing over him all at once as the handle of the knife became visible. Stuck in the plaster of the wall, approximately one inch from the location Evans' brains had chosen to reside, the knife sent a shiver down his spine, the impending evacuation of Evans' bladder unstoppable as a dark path began to appear in the sky blue denim of his jeans. Lips trembling in terror, he looked up as Tiffany smiled, grasping the handle and removing the blade from between his legs in one fluid motion.
"It wouldn't be any trouble at all." She grinned as she played with the knife, tossing it from one hand to another as Evan spun on his heels and raced from the scene, his bedroom door slamming shut behind him as the key swung violently in the lock.
She could've done worse. Jesus, she could've done a lot worse, wouldn't be the first time. The long lost body of Keith Allen was a testament to that. But now, as she slipped the blade back between the zippers of her purse, she found herself walking with a much sought after spring in her step as she left the apartment and headed down the steps outside and onwards.
Her mystery man was waiting.
The underpass was quiet, which was a surprise. During storms like this one, that had suddenly appeared cross the skyline of the Illinois evening, you'd usually find the homeless people, vagrants, turning up in their numbers for a dry patch out of the way, the concrete flyovers offering them that very respite from the misery they called life. As she skipped between the pillars, the neon lights of the 7/11 only just visible in the distance of the concrete jungle, Tiffany suddenly realised why the area was vastly under populated considering the weather loudly going about its own business overhead. There, fifty feet away, no lights or engine running as the odd torrent of rainwater flowed over above ledges and trickled to the dusty floor, sat a Chicago P.D police car. The one occupant, patiently awaiting the meeting he had been in such a rush to arrange just one hour previous. As she took a step back and hid behind one of the many cement pillars supporting the roads above, Tiffany took a deep breath and exhaled. She had known this day would come for a while now, and she was ready. She could only hope that her acquaintance had with him the item that she had long sought for.
Stepping out from behind her cover, Tiffany approached the car, the heels of her boots quietly striking the firm concrete beneath as she closed in...
Leaning forward from the comfy seat behind the wheel of the squad car, Officer Harry Marsh grabbed the power button of the radio and jerked it counter-clockwise, the police band suddenly disappearing and allowing the silence to embrace him as he sat patiently in his seat, the river of rainwater sweeping across Madison Street in the distance making him feeling warmer than he had felt all night. At fifty eight years old, and with more than a 'little' too much weight hanging over the top of his belt, he'd been fit for retiring for a couple of years now, and as he sat and tapped the bottom of his lighter on the steering wheel before him, he stroked his chin and imagined the possibilities. Truth be told, he felt uneasy about this whole venture, never expected anything to come of it, but he'd seen it out until now and as fate had granted him such an opportunity to come good, he now hoped the good deed would be returned, and that his 'client' would be equally as trustworthy when it came to upholding her end of the bargain. Ten months almost. Ten months since that first and only meeting between the two of them, fate once again intervening and offering Harry the ultimate chance, something he was willing to cling to and never let go as he did something he had sworn he would never do, accepting a bribe. Thinking of it like that made Harry feel dirty, dishonest, but as he remembered back to that night, the precincts Christmas party, everything became a whole lot clearer and the long term goal became the focus of everything transpiring right now before his very eyes...
December 23rd 1989
It was nothing special...
Matter of fact he didn't want to go...
After the year they'd had, it was the last thing on his mind, going into the city and pounding some beers with guys half his age. But it was a case of anything for a quiet life as his wife of thirty six years lay in the hospital, intravenous fluids working their way into her body and attempting to fight off the deadly battle. The cancer had taken its toll on Marie, the news knocking weight off her from the word 'go', the medication leaving her tired, the chemotherapy gradually causing her hair to leave her head, her beautiful smile no longer flanked on either side by the flowing brunette locks as she laughed and joked. Nowadays the laughter had dried up, hospital appointment after hospital appointment seeming to sneak up on them, hurling them into yet another dark tunnel of torment as news repeatedly came back, the fight draining from Marie's very soul as the words seemed to slip in slow motion from the doctor's lips. The cancer was winning. Every step of the way, winning. The chemotherapy would help, prolong her life, but in the end that was all they could hope for. That wasn't living, not to Harry, and although he'd never dream of saying it to his wife, as she lay night after night, silently by his side, it was simply an existence. An existence, afforded to her thanks to the generous medical insurance Harry had paid into for the last three decades as he rose slowly through the ranks of the Chicago Police Department. Not rose as such, but more or less, levitated slightly around the bottom rungs of the ladder. But the insurance wouldn't stretch to everything. At first, Harry had been elated as the doctors began to speak of a new treatment, not widely available, in fact still in the trial stages under a molecular biologist in Northern California. Vascular endothelial growth factor, or VEGF as the professionals called it, was being heralded as the future of cancer treatment. A protein that stimulated blood vessel development, scientists had discovered a way to clone the gene and could hopefully find a way to block the activity of this angiogenesis factor, potentially inhibiting the growth of tumour blood vessels. The joy had been short-lived however, the insurance company refusing to stump up the money for any such treatment, investigating Marie's case and the money it would cost, coming to the conclusion it would very much be an unviable option. There was the chance of having Marie's cancer examined in depth by a group of professionals carrying out these trials, but the cost was something Harry could never cover. The bank refused him a loan, pointing to his age and income as they politely shoved him and his dying wife out the door. This was how it had all come down to this. A stolen chance, a twist of fate as he had been forced to endure the blizzard from hell on the Christmas night out with precinct 38. As the beers flowed, Harry found the taste began to grow on him, Marie and her condition started to take a back seat for a change as he and a few of the older members of the force huddled around a table in Hammond's Bar and played poker, the younger officers more or less taking over the pool tables on offer over the other side of the establishment. It was only as the shots began to land in front of him that his tongue became looser and looser. Nobody spared as Harry ripped into almost every one of them, laying bare his misery as he reminded each and every one of them that they knew nothing of pain. Nothing like he did.
"What the hell..." Harry paused to hiccup. "What the hell do you think you're talking about Lewis?"
"Look Harry..." Lewis held his hands up, his face calm and his tone forgiving. "I didn't mean to start no competition. Me and you must've known each other longer than i care to remember."
"So what's all this pity bullshit?" Harry slurred. "You expect us to feel sorry for ya? Just cause your kid ain't gonna give ya no grandkids?"
"Look," Lewis's tone became sterner. "Harry. We're all sorry about Marie. Sure we are. We wish we could do something. But other people have rights to moan about shit too!"
"Don't give me that ol' shit." Harry sat back and laid his cards face down across the table. "You wanna do what I gotta do every night. Kiss your wife g'night and tell her it'll all be okay. Even though it won't. You have any idea what that's like?"
By now, Harry's voice had become louder, the attention from the bar staff proving impossible to shrug off as they turned one after another and looked over at the group of men sat around the table.
"Look Harry, keep it down." Kowalski intervened from beside Lewis. "We feel for ya. Sure we do. But life goes on. I'm sorry man, but it does."
With that, Harry became enraged. Standing immediately and pushing his chair out from behind him, the screeching echoing throughout the bar and causing one or two patrons to cover their ears and grit their teeth as Harry finally stood upright, his belly hitting the table and causing it to rock slightly as bottle and glasses fell each and every way imaginable, smashing as they made contact with the filthy, linoleum floor.
"You take that back..." Harry swayed a little more. "You... You... Bastard!"
With that, Kowalski stood and leaned across the table, his silver crew cut and chiselled jaw making him an intimidating sight.
"I didn't mean nothing by it Harry." He calmly spoke as one of the bar girls raced over, dust pan and brush clenched between her fists. Her short blonde hair, her incredibly sexy figure, the legs that seemed to go all the way up, everything about her gained the attention of the men gathered around the table as she began to sweep up the broken glass. Taking his eyes from the girl, now knelt beside him, Kowalski held his hand out and grabbed Harry by the shoulder, stopping him from rocking. "You're a damn good cop Harry. A hell of a guy too. How long you been on the force now? Longer than any of us. You're one of the cleanest, most professional cops there is in this city. Don't ruin that. Don't burn bridges that someday you're gonna need. We're all sorry about Marie, and we wish we could help you afford that treatment. But we can't. All we can do is be there for you along the way. Now go to the bar and get the drinks in."
With that, the atmosphere was suddenly lifted again as Harry smiled and grabbed Kowalski's hand, patting it and turning on the spot to make his way to the bar. As he turned, he noticed the bar girl with the dust pan full of broken glass. Still kneeling, her sweeping motion interrupted as she took interest in the conversation, she suddenly noticed Harry looking at her and felt sheepish, returning to her job and clearing the floor of shattered glass.
"While you're down there honey." Harry grinned to her as the rest of his colleagues burst out laughing.
Embarrassed, and turning red on the spot, the bar girl slowly stood and began to walk back to the bar. Each and every officer allowing their eyes to follow her ass as it swayed seductively from side to side.
"Suppose I'd better follow on." Harry mumbled as he took a deep breath and began to move off towards the bar. "Same again boys?"
The chorus of agreement was lost amongst the ambience of the bar as Harry approached one of the other bar girls and placed his order, fumbling in his pockets for his money, finding it and slamming it down on the wet beer mat in front of him.
"You take them over sweetheart. I've gotta pay a visit to the little boy's room." Harry smiled and left the bar, the flickering neon light above the restroom seeming to entice him over, hypnotise him as he kept it in his field of vision, never once noticing the blonde bar girl with the dust pan and brush following him.
Once inside, Harry felt relief as he stood before the urinal, the warm stream of urine slightly splashing back off the porcelain as he felt his bladder begin to empty, the door behind him slamming as somebody else entered the restroom. As his stream slowed to a mere trickle, Harry gave himself a shake and zipped himself back up, spinning in the direction of the sinks and noticing his guest. In front of him stood the girl from the bar, the dust pan full of broken glass in one hand, the brush in another.
"Jesus love." Harry laughed. "I was only joking out there. See I got my wife, and I don't think she'd be too happy about me being in here with you."
She stood in silence for a couple of seconds before throwing the pan and brush on the side, the glass flying along the counter and filling one of the sinks.
"Is that your wife that's ill?" She asked as she turned back to Harry.
"Well, not that it's any of your business." Harry started. "But yeah..."
"What's wrong with her?" The girl asked, interrupting suddenly.
"Cancer." Harry's reply brought a tear to his eye as he uttered the word. One simple, six letter word that could bring upon a man, more suffering than any kind of torture.
"And you can't afford treatment?" The girl asked once more, her eyes growing bigger as she took a step towards Harry, who could only shake his head as he lowered his eyes to the dirty, tiled, floor.
"But you're a cop right?" The girl sent another question Harry's way, causing him to look up, confusion taking over his mind.
"That I am." He replied. "What difference does that make?"
"Oh it makes a difference," The girl took another step. "Harry, is it?"
Harry nodded.
"Well Harry." Her smile grew as she came to a stop in front of him. "Maybe we can help each other, you and me."
"I'm not sure I like where this is going miss..."
"Tiffany." She replied as she stood up straight and saluted him in a joking manner.
"Well Tiffany." He seemed to relax a touch at this. "I'm struggling to get what you mean. But it still sounds like something to be worried about."
"Don't worry Harry." She laughed. "I'm not gonna suck you off in a cubicle then bribe you over it."
"Well that's a relief." Harry gasped.
"No, what I had in mind was something much more beneficial for the both of us." Tiffany whispered as she leaned in and began to lay out her grand plan.
It had been enough to enrage Harry at first. Storm from the restroom, his ears refusing to believe what they had heard. She couldn't be serious. Never in a million years. Sure, she knew about the killer doll murders from just over a year ago, but who didn't? They'd been all over the news, across every front page. Hell, it'd be harder to find somebody that DIDN'T know about those events. But the way she spoke, the proposition, something unsettled Harry, especially as his wife had been dragged into it. Her proposition was still ringing in his ears as he returned to his chair around the table and Lewis began to deal the cards out once more. Jokes rattling back and forth about the amount of time Harry had taken, how he was getting old and needed longer time to piss these days. Everything sailing straight over his head as his mind raced, turning back to the bar and seeing Tiffany take up her position, serving drinks and occasionally glancing over, the look on her face one of pure fear as Harry's exit shocked her. Strangely enough though, the ore he sat and thought, the more her idea hit home. It resonated on a level Harry thought profound at the time, but now, as he sat among his friends, his colleagues, he knew this could be the only option.
At the end of the night, Harry had approached Tiffany once more, frightening her half to death as she cleared glasses from a table at the other side of the room, turning to find Harry's frame obscuring the light behind him and casting Tiffany in darkness, invisible to everybody else in the bar.
"I've been thinking." He sighed as he held his jacket in his fist.
"And?" Tiffany answered, taking a quick look around.
"I'm still not sure." Harry answered. "All these years and I never did anything that wasn't by the book."
"As I've said." Tiffany leaned back, sitting on the table and crossing her legs. "I'd make it worth your while."
"How much?" Harry quickly replied, his turn to take a look around, his friends leaving the bar behind him in the distance.
"How much would it take? The treatment I mean." She asked.
"No offence Tiffany." Harry laughed. "But you don't look like you have that kinda money."
"You'd be surprised about a lot of things." Tiffany smiled as she leaned forward, placing her hands on her knee. "Name your price."
"Fifty." Harry instantly shot back, the seriousness in his voice causing Tiffany to laugh for a second before realising how serious Harry was.
"Grand?" She blurted out, covering her mouth. "Fifty grand? Fuck me!"
"I knew this was a waste of time. Don't worry about it kid. It didn't feel right with me anyway." Harry turned and started to walk away, suddenly feeling Tiffany's soft hand on his shoulder, causing him to turn back around.
"I can get it." Tiffany whispered as she looked into his eyes, determination written in her soul.
"Sure you can." Harry tried to turn away once more, Tiffany pulling him back.
"I can!" She replied sternly, Harry taken aback slightly.
"And all you want is..."
"That's all I want." She quickly stopped him. "One tiny little bit of evidence, that they'll probably never miss anyway."
And with that the deal was done, Tiffany slipping her name and number into Harry's jacket pocket and telling him to call when he had news.
September 15th 1990
Now, almost ten months later, here he was. He had seriously doubted that tonights phone call would lead to anything other than a wrong number, so he'd been surprised when that high pitched voice had come bouncing down the line. All he could do now was sit and wait. In fact waiting was all he had done for the last twenty minutes, so imagine his surprise as Tiffany brought her arm crashing down on the driver's door of the squad car, causing Harry to drop his cigarette in his lap, the shock startling him as Tiffany began to laugh manically outside.
"Jesus Christ!" Harry screamed as he fished the cigarette from between his legs and wound the window down, tossing the now extinguished tab end outside. "Round the other side, quick."
As he calmed down, he found his eyes following Tiffany's waist as she trotted around the front of the car, her perky breasts bouncing under the jacket as she ran, reaching the passenger door at a canter and yanking it open, pulling it closed behind her and allowing silence to reign.
"The hell was that about?" Harry turned to Tiffany, pissed off.
"Just trying to lighten the mood. You were miles away sweetface." She replied with a giggle.
"Damn straight I was miles away." Harry snapped back as he pulled another cigarette from the packet and pulled the lighter to the tip, striking the flint with his thumb and cupping his hands around the flame, taking a deep breath as he sucked the acrid smoke into his lungs before exhaling, the second hand smoke filling the car. "Matter of fact, I was wondering how the fuck I got sucked into this whole thing."
"You know it's worth it." Tiffany turned serious suddenly. "Your wife. How is she?"
"She'd be a lot better if we could afford this treatment." Harry snapped. "Is there no way I can have my money now?"
Tiffany shook her head.
"Afraid not sweetface." She smirked as she leaned her head in her hands. "Got to protect my investment. Can't have you racing off and spending MY money before you deliver me the goods."
"Yeah I thought as much." Harry's eyes flitted from side to side as he took another drag and tapped his lighter on the steering wheel once more.
"Speaking of which, do you have it?" Tiffany asked, craning her head around to look in the back of the car.
It was Harry's turn to shake his head, cigarette clenched between his lips as he did so, his lips parting slightly as he began to talk.
"Not yet. They're still holding it in evidence." Harry answered. "But it shouldn't be long. Rumour has it that the judge sent that Barclay woman for some psychiatric evaluation. From what I've heard, she's most probably halfway to the nut house as we speak. The kid's in care, has been more or less since day one, especially since Norris and Santos pulled their statements."
"Well that's good." Tiffany sighed as she thought things through.
"Dunno about that." Harry smiled as he pulled the cigarette from his lips. "Play Pals are 'very' interested in that thing too. From what I can make out, they're going to grease a few palms if necessary and run their own tests on that thing. Probably to calm down a few freaked out stockholders. If that's the case, then I might not be able to get you what you're after."
"Excuse me?" Tiffany became agitated as she spun in her seat and focused her complete attention on Officer Harry Marsh.
"What can I do?" He held his hands up. "If I can't get it, I can't get it!"
"Then you had better fucking well get it Officer Marsh, do you understand me?" Tiffany spat.
"Look," Harry began. "I'm not saying I can't. But at the same time, you understand my predicament. That's why I'm gonna help you out in other ways too."
"How do you mean?" Tiffany sank back into her seat.
"Well I know how interested in this case you are so I did a little digging. Figured it may be enough to earn me a little early money towards my wife's treatment. I can see that's not gonna happen, but what the hell. I'll help you anyway."
"Carry on." Tiffany rolled her eyes, bored.
"It's the kid." Harry said.
"What kid?"
"THE kid. Andy Barclay..." Harry smiled. "I 'know' he's at Midtown Childrens Crisis Centre under the watchful eye of Miss Grace Pool. I also happen to 'know' they're looking for a secretary to cover maternity leave."
"I don't get what this has to do with me." Tiffany began to seem irritated.
"I figured it couldn't hurt. You know?" Harry handed her a folded piece of paper, the details written within. "Maybe he could shed some more light on this thing for ya."
"I see." Tiffany suddenly looked enlightened, as if a light bulb had flickered into life above her head.
As she sat and thought, Harry reached forward and turned the knob on the radio, the police band screeching into life, dragging Tiffany from her dazed state as she hurriedly placed the folded piece of paper in her purse and opened the car door. She was sat with one leg in, one leg out, just about to stand, when Harry placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Miss Valentine." He looked sternly into her eyes. "The next time we meet. Please have my money. I beg you."
"Officer Marsh." Tiffany smiled, her eyes flickering in the light of a passing car, somewhere in the distance. "The next time we meet. I hope to fucking god, you have that doll. That's not a request. That's a fucking order!"
Harry sat stunned as Tiffany stood elegantly from the squad car and slammed the door closed, disappearing into the concrete supports and off into the night as Harry sat in the car, the dispatcher going crazy, requesting cars to a pursuit across town.
'Harry' He thought to himself. 'What the fuck have you gotten yourself into?'