Blind I

"Here we are, Cori. Richard Maynard's 'Biz'." I felt the car break.

"Biz?" I repeated. "Paris, you said it wouldn't be long. It's been fourty five minutes!" I felt for the hands on my watch.

"One last stop, here, then you can be with Nika," he sounded rough.

"Nakita. What's bothering you?"

"Nothing"

"Paris," I laid a hand on his shoulder. He flinched, throwing his hands up in the air and bringing them down hard on the steering wheel.

"I said nothing, okay! Come on, LaVey, we've got a murderer to catch." His seatbelt zipped away from him and his car door slammed. I slowly unclipped my seatbelt. No sooner did I do so, did Paris bang on my window.

"LaVey, get your blind face out here, we haven't got all day!" At his words I wanted to lock the door and drive off. Too bad I can't drive. I settled for an argument instead. I opened and slammed my door after I exited.

"Stauer, I won't tolerate this abuse from you! Sort out your problems before the FBI's. What's the matter with you anyway?"

"Hey! Nice Taurus! '03 model, I believe. Coal black finish. Classy!" Someone came up behind us. The voice put an arm around each of us. "How many miles are on her?" I rolled his arm off my shoulder. The man's voice was as greasy as his hands.

"Richard Maynard? Detective Paris Stauer, FBI."

"Sorry, no service personnel discounts. Were you looking to trade? I just got a new load of Ford's, all different, the 2010 models. Straight from the factory, they are. Get one today, and one month of GPS service is yours free. And-"

"Can it 'Ricky'. I'm here to ask you a few questions."

"About our Sign Drive promotion?" Obvious fear, sugar-coated with a sale.

"About Manuel Jesuarah."

[-x-]

"Yeah, Manny didn't show up the last couple'a days, but what am I s'posta do? Report him AWOL?" Maynard's office smelled like olives and old salami. I hope he didn't do business here.

"'Manny' did show up. In our morgue. Can you tell us how that happened?" Paris turned on his I've-seen-NYPD's-worst charm.

"I wasn't here yesterday either, man. My wife had our kid." He noisily swung his blackberry from it's clip and apparently showed it to us. Paris' breathing shifted.

"What's his name?" He asked, trying to calm himself.

"Dawson," Maynard returned the phone to his belt.

"Listen Ricky, If you don't help us, next time you see Dawson might be from behind bulletproof 3 ¼ inch glass."

"Any more qu-questions?"

[-x-]

"Time magazine: 'Marvels of Modern Forensics: Detective LaVey':

Excerpt from LaVey's autobiography "Blind I"

I never actually got used to the hard crime. Sometime the descriptions from coworkers and Detective Stauer are probably worse than the actual scene. "Body appears to have been tossed into the dumpster at an angle from twenty five feet, causing severe peri-mortem bruising against the skull. Heavy bleeding suggests the victim was stabbed before falling and remained alive for a while. Insect activity has begun, rendering facial reconstruction at this point…" Much more grisly than seeing a guy in a dumpster with half a face, I would think. Now with the Diaspirate cases, I don't know how long I'll last. I've been through all 116 of this cold killer's victims. Plus all the unrelated cases. I hope we catch this cold blooded murderer. I hate sitting in the elevator on the way to the Morgue asking: "The us[ual]?" and getting "Unfortunately." as a reply.