well, I want to kill Elliot. and I want to kill Elliot for kissing Dani. and generally I jus want to kill Dick Wolf.
also, I have no prom date, and everyone else seems to be using this time to ask people they will have broken up with or given unsuccessful blow jobs to by the time of the actual prom night, so I am considered highly out of fashion right now. which makes me even happier, since being out of fashion is something I do best. my ex boyfriend has offered, but yeah, he pretty much tried to rape me. so NO THANKS, BUT ANYWAY…
here's some drama. glad everyone loved the elevator sex. because who wouldn't, honestly? and I have attracted new readers, which makes me happy and horny and hoppity inside, like the Easter Bunny eating pumpkin pie. pumpkin pie is the number one most erotic food. which is why I am probably going to have to write some OE thanksgiving porn this year.
toodles, lovies.
…
"You have to be joking. You imbeciles have to be joking."
Ripley Montgomery was, in the eyes of John Munch- now quite experienced in the art of identifying bastards, the biggest son of a bitch to ever walk the earth. Excepting maybe Cragen on his days without coffee and Twizzlers. But still, Ripley Montgomery was up there. Way up there.
"Actually Mr. Montgomery, we're being perfectly serious. And so are the very serious two men who say they were going through with your very serious orders to very seriously kill Detective Benson." He runs his tongue across his teeth, frowning. This guy is probably the reason his shoulder feels like a shitload of shrapnel. "Is that serious enough for you?"
"Both of those men are convicted pedophiles and are doing 25 to life on homicide and rape charges. Not what I'd call star witnesses, Detective."
"I just love that you keep knowing things before I tell you about them, Mr. Montgomery. Watching you shoot yourself in the kneecap time and time again is starting to become entertaining."
Ripley sneers, running a distressed hand through his hair as he stares at the glass of water shaking slightly on the table. He's a good-looking man, tall and athletically-built, but he'd be easy prey for the cellmates that love to give broom-handle colonoscopies. It gives Munch a sick sort of satisfaction knowing it's only a matter of time before this man suffers through living anal hell.
"Where's my lawyer?"
"On his way."
"Good. Then we can clear this up, and you bastards can waste your time trying to find some other ass-licker to convict me."
"For your kind of breeding, Mr. Montgomery, I'd expect a lot more courtesy on your part. Didn't finishing school teach you anything about your manners?"
Before Ripley can respond, most likely with a sneer and a jumble of well-dictated cuss words, the door flies open and an exasperated Katrina Bates flies in, rushing immediately to Ripley's side.
"This is ridiculous and I want this called off immediately." She screams, turning to Munch with fire in her eyes. "Whatever it is, Ripley didn't do it. He has countless alibis and a spotless reputation, and anything you accuse him of has to be ludicrous." She turns to Ripley, giving him a long kiss on the mouth. "I brought the family lawyer."
"Thank you, darling." Ripley smiles with the inherited charm he's used on so many other women with so many other commitments. Munch makes a face, rolling his eyes.
"So you're together. How coincidental and utterly stomach-turning."
"Don't say another word, Ripley." Katrina gives him a stern frown, her eyes suddenly flashing on Munch. "I don't know why you'd even dream of accusing him, but I assure you this will all be clarified in a few moments. Joseph." She signals for the lawyer to sit down. "Tell him."
"Actually, tell me." Casey enters, looking just as dissatisfied as Munch. "Or maybe you'd rather not say anything at all until we've made our offer, since nothing is looking particularly good for you right now, Mr. Montgomery."
"My client isn't interested in a deal, Miss Novak. Just tell us the bail."
"You're kidding." Casey shrugs, frowning. "We can't even talk about bail right now, not with the charges we have on your client, Mr. Bauschwert."
"We'll pay it." Ripley says coolly, even when his lawyer signals to silence him. "I don't fucking care how much it costs. Just tell me what I owe and let's get the hell out of here."
"This isn't a fine, Mr. Montgomery. You are sitting with the weight of five charges on your head, not to mention an alibi that won't play well with the judge assigned to your case."
"But he was with me!" Katrina protests, "And I have three maids that can confirm that as well. They don't speak English, but if you have to get a Romanian translator-"
"I rest my case." Casey rolls her eyes.
"Tread easy, Miss Novak." Ripley raises his eyebrows, but his eyes are examining her coolly. "Katrina's father can confirm it as well."
"I wouldn't be so confident, Mr. Montgomery. At this point, you have both homicide and four cases of rape on your hands."
"Rape?" Ripley leans forward, eyes widening. "Now where the hell are you getting that from?"
"We connected the dots, and as long as you keep your mouth shut, you're saddling the upstate rapes as well."
"That wasn't me." Ripley's eyes are wide and terrifying, and when he turns to Katrina, hot anger boils within his pupils. "You bitch. You never settled that?"
"What are you talking about?" She blinks blankly, swallowing quickly. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
Ripley turns back to Casey, head trembling on the sculptured pulpit of his neck. "That was Jonathan. Jonathan Bates."
"No!" Katrina reaches across and yanks dangerously on his collar, screaming as she tugs him towards her. "What are you saying? How can you-"
"That fucking pervert wasn't my brother, and I'll be damned if I go to prison for that fucker." He leans forward again, shoving away Katrina's hands as she sobs and clings to him, her eyes wide and horrified.
"Stop it Ripley, please!" But he shoves her away, and she kneels on the floor, sobbing hysterically as he continues.
"Jonathan owns half of the resort, but it won't say that in any of the paperwork because the Bates all cleared it away after the rapes. Everybody was paid to keep their mouths shut, and Jonathan was locked up in his penthouse in New York for a while. He was fucking crazy. He was obsessed with the women he saw there. He watched them for days, and then he'd rape them. He set everything up and nobody stopped him because he was a Bates. You couldn't touch him. I talked to him once, and all he could talk about was how much he loved this one girl, and how he was going to buy her. Feed her jello. Get sons and everything. Fucking insane. He's the one that raped them, not me."
Casey blinks. "Well, that certainly clears up a few things."
"Yeah, and one day he got out. He'd hired an old friend to follow the girl and he went out find her. And guess who it was? Your detective. And then he got killed, to shut him up."
At this, Katrina lets out a long moan and shakes pathetically.
"Oh, shut up, you stupid bitch. You're just as guilty as he is. Getting vengeance, my ass. And I went along with it, thinking I'd get something from Old Man Bates, and what did I get? Nothing. That bastard gave me nothing, and he can go on living like that. And I'm going to jail."
"And the Bates just covered everything up?"
"No! Don't tell them! Ripley, please!" Katrina is begging pathetically, but it's no use now. Ripley has a yellow flame in his eyes, and everything horrible about him is spinning out with every confession they need to hear to tie this case up. It's a disgusting sight to watch, and yet it's wonderful to behold.
"Yeah, they covered up everything. Paid everybody off, got rid of the ones who didn't keep quiet. But you'll never hear about them. They're experts at saving their own hides- they ruin everybody else's life, and then they skulk quietly off to go ruin someone else's existence. They're just great at it."
"And what was your role exactly?"
"Katrina said we had to cover Jonathan's tracks one last time. We had to make sure the criminal records were cleared. And the ones who opposed had to be finished off. We'd make it look like a freak accident, an old case file gone to vengeance. I spent half of my fortune on it." He curses, rubbing his temples in hostile anger. "I fucking wasted my inheritance on that bastard." He looks up at Casey, suddenly searching for sympathy. "Am I still going to jail?"
"Oh my yes." Casey nods eagerly. "Your bail might be lower, but it's still astronomical."
"I can handle astronomical." Ripley smiles smugly, ignoring the quiet weeping beneath his right shoulder. "I can handle anything, you know."
…
"Large black, no frills, and large decaf with cream and sugar." She orders and then turns to him, grinning mischievously. "You take your coffee like a wimp."
"And you take yours like a crack addict." He smiles back, glad to see her looking at him like that again, missing it so much for those hours in which her face was empty as his heart. "But I suppose at one point you were a coffee-wuss like me, before you built up a tolerance." He stays her hand when she reaches for her wallet. Her frown shoots daggers into him, immediately reliving those moments when she first walked out and left it silent, but her small smile returns and she lights him up once more. "Think of it as a treat, to celebrate a victory. The end of the Bates case."
"We don't know who killed Jonathan."
"Screw Jonathan. Drink coffee." He takes a long swig and then makes a face. "This tastes like paint remover."
"That's mine." She pulls it from his grasp, switching cups.
"Are you sure that's not going to dissolve the lining of your stomach?"
"Better than beer and faster than a fag, thank you very much."
"Ah, a coffee slogan. How adorable."
She grins, putting on her infamous bambi eyes. He melts. "You know you think my coffee slogan is cute."
He shrugs. "Maybe a little." His pager is buzzing, and it momentarily takes his eyes off of her, brilliant as she is when she stands in the mid afternoon sun and twists her head to stare at the sky, almost as bright and beautiful as she is. "Uh…we've got to get back to the precinct."
"Already? And just when my coffee break was starting to get entertaining…"
"Looks like we'll have to postpone that celebration. Katrina's ready to talk and there's a family reunion in Cragen's office."
She lets out a long sigh, shoulders falling sadly. "Sounds like a party."
"And we don't want to miss it."
He could already see Cragen's distraught expression of gloomy indifference as they walked in.
…