Sweat beads dotted Detective Yancy
Week's brow. Damn, air conditioning not doing me any good. There was a
sharp rapping on the door, the kind someone makes when they are in a hurry.
second." Melinda Alvarez's accented voice said.
Weeks listened as
tiny stiletto steps moved across the marble floor. Melinda, all of five foot
two, was a package of sexual dynamite. He envisioned her sexy rear swaying as
she marched across the room in her stilettos. He suddenly felt aroused; his
high heel fetish was kicking in. Memories of his first encounter with stilettos
flooded his mind. They belonged to Marilyn Monroe.
His dad, like many
men of his era,
loved Marilyn and one of his favorites was Let's Make Love. Marilyn was
sporting six-inch heels, her shapely legs cloaked only in black tights. He was
only twelve years old and she had produced his first erection, at least the
first one he could recall that was sexually stimulated. He nervously watched
Marilyn; his face red, hoping his father wouldn't notice the pillow now resting
over his crotch.
Weeks wiped his
brow and took a deep breath. He was glad his partner wasn't there with him. The
two had been locked up together on stakeouts so often he sometimes forgot she
was a woman. Still, explaining his sudden "tent pole" would have been
The hotel door
opened. Weeks tried to make out the conversation at the door, they sounded like
the adults in a Charlie Brown cartoon. Suddenly the door closed, the stilettos
again clicked against the floor, now followed by heavier footsteps of a man.
Both footsteps paused; there was a soft moan, then the rustling of clothing.
good baby," a baritone voice said. Melina's only reply was a cute giggle.
Weeks scowled, no
"Let's go out on
the balcony baby." Baritone said.
The voice seemed
familiar; Weeks scanned his brain's search engine, no match. Their footsteps
moved across the room. He cursed silently. If they close the balcony door he
won’t hear a thing.
The sliding door
rolled across the window base as if it hadn’t been oiled for years. Weeks
listened, there was no sound of the door sliding back. He exhaled.
From the balcony,
Weeks had a hard time making out Melinda's words, however her companion's were
no problem. His voice was rich, strong like James Earl Jones.
like that baby," he said. "My wife had to go. From now on, I spend my
night only with you."
felt butterflies rumbling in the pit of his stomach. He clenched his fist.
Jealousy? The thought angered him. Again, he was glad his partner couldn't
see him she was very astute, more so than he. She would’ve noticed his
behavior, known something wasn't kosher with him. When he began binge drinking,
only she saw through his bullshit and realized there was trouble at home.
He and his wife
Karen were struggling. She didn’t like the long hours he put in. That's the
life of a cop, He thought, she knew what she was signing up for ten
He cheated, she
caught him. He begged her not to leave and take his kids. She consented, but
she kept him on a short leash. Marriage became hell, he despised everything
about her, her perfume, her hair, how wide her hips had gotten. But for the
love of his kids, he played the good husband role. They were his life, if she
took them, she might as well put his revolver against his forehead and pull the
brought him back. Weeks still couldn't make out her words but noticed a tinge
of distress in her voice.
"What do you
mean what's this?" The baritone said. "It's a check for one million
It was killing
Weeks now. Where had he heard that voice before? And what was this about a
voice rose three octaves. "But I thought it was an accident."
"As far as
the insurance company knows, it was an accident." Baritone replied.
murder!" Melinda said, her voice slightly trembling.
carry.” Baritone replied. “She had it coming. She was standing between our
The stilettos tap
back and forth on the balcony. Weeks strains to hear the conversation.
"What if the
police find out?" Melinda said. Her words clearer; she must have walked
closer to the door.
investigators for the insurance company couldn't find anything," Baritone
said. "It's no way in hell any of those Bozo cops are going to figure it
the light bulb went off over Week's head. The Terrance Hill shooting. Black kid
fit the description of a holdup suspect. Two beat cops pumped twelve
bullets into him, said he had a gun. Turned out Terrance's gun was an ipad. The
next day, the Mayor called the cops Bozos on television.
about a thing baby." The Mayor said. "You're everything she wasn't.
You're my angel, so pure, so good, I told you I'd kill for you."
Weeks envisions them kissing. His teeth clench. The stilettos and heavy
footsteps move back across the room towards the door, which squeaks as it
opens, and then closes. Alone, the stilettos make their way back across the
room than stop.
come out now." Melina says.
from beneath the bed. He looked up at Melina, befuddled. She knelt down, kissed
that?” She asks. "I'm scared, what're you going to do?"
Weeks weighed the
situation “I don't know. If I bust him, they'll ask what was I doing here.“ He
said. “If it comes out you and I are also lovers, I'll never see my kids