Mimi Spatchcock had been a police
officer for ten years, a detective for three, and an alcoholic for one. When
she was on-duty, she kept a snubnosed .357 in her shoulder holster. Off-duty,
she kept a pint of scotch.
Except
today. Today she was at her desk with her eyes watering and fighting at
headache because of the mound of paperwork before her and her holster was
empty.
The
bottle was in a drawer in her desk, and her gun was in another. More than once
she reached for the bottle and grabbed the gun.
More
than once she considered putting it in her mouth.
Mimi
became a cop because she watched a lot of movies as a child and genuinely
wanted to help people. At the academy her classmates made fun of her because
she genuinely believed in doing the right thing and helping everybody equally.
Her instructors appreciated it at first, but began to worry about her as
graduation approached and she still thought that way. Most recruits got over
their idealism by graduation and were properly ready to hit the streets and see
the inevitable horrors of a life on the streets. Those that didn’t either
washed out of the program altogether, or made stupid mistakes within their
first couple of years on the streets.
But
something about Mimi kept her safe. She made the same, stupid, idealistic
mistakes that other starry-eyed young cops made, but she survived; her
convictions shielded her from the evils of the world she faced on the beat.
When she was eligible, she took the detective’s test and passed (with one of
the highest scores in the history of the department, which surprised no one),
and took her idealism to a new level. Now she wasn’t just trying to prevent
crime, she was bringing justice to those she couldn’t save on the streets. She
felt like she was getting a chance to make up for everything she couldn’t
accomplish as a patrolman.
Her
commanders got tired of her shit.
She
was annoying as a patrolman, she was a pain in the ass as a detective.
Luckily,
she was astonishingly good at her job, and when you’re good at something, they
make you do it more.
Get
good enough, and you end up doing other people’s jobs for them.
Get
really good at it, and they make you
do the absolute worst jobs available.
During
her first year as a detective, Mimi had a 75% close rate on her cases (again, a
new record for the department). In her second year, they gave her harder cases,
more gruesome cases, some involving children.
That was when she
started drinking.
In her third year
her caseload was heavier than ever and she drank all the time, so it was
actually out of pity that her lieutenant gave her a simpler case: a hobo had
been found dead under an overpass. The medical examiner hadn’t completed his
report yet, but the word around the precinct was that he’d simply died from
exposure. They were ready to close this case almost as soon as it opened, and
Mimi needed a boost, so when the file was created they gave it to her so she
could get another successful case on her record.
She was waiting
for the medical report and autopsy to arrive and reading over the inventory for
the fifth time:
Name: John Doe
Age: Unknown
Cause of Death: Unknown pending medical examination
Items Retrieved from Corpse: One coat, wool, green; One pair pants; One
pair shoes; One wool sweater; One paper bag from local fast food restaurant,
contents include several empty food wrappers, receipt, coupons, and gift card
(balance unknown).
Mimi had all but
memorized the incomplete report by now, so it was a tremendous relief for her
when the phone rang and she saw the caller ID was the county coroner. She
picked up the phone, grateful to finally get the coroner’s findings on file so
she could close this case.
“Jane!” she said
after picking up the phone. “What’s the word on that transient case? Exposure?
Natural causes? Can I put this one to bed?”
The coroner didn’t
respond at first, and the pause was pregnant enough that Mimi’s hand found
itself on her bottle without thinking. “Jane?” she asked. “Please tell me this
is an easy one.”
“You’d better come
out to the morgue, detective. I found some chemical combinations in his stomach
that are rather baffling.”
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