Spring of 1991 and the city of Hot Springs, Arkansas, had a police force of only seventy-seven officers. They managed to handle everything from jaywalkers to homicides. Their basic problems were along the same lines as the bigger cities, such as Little Rock.
All had their problems to contend with, such as the one facing Chief of Police Rachel Temme. A feisty lady in her early fifties, with long auburn hair, she was tall, just short of five-eleven, with a lean, athletic build. Didn’t believe in wearing make-up; just natural beauty was her style.
Joining the department as a self-defense instructor some twenty-seven years ago, she worked her way up through the ranks. Decorating her office gave her immense joy, as it had been an earlier hobby for her just out of college. Her office was ultramodern, sleek, and contained a glass-topped desk with a stainless steel frame. It was accompanied by a black designer desk chair.
Located behind her desk were six large file cabinets painted in dark shades of pink. On the right wall was a large smooth, glass-paned window, out of which one could glance and view the police cruisers in the side lot. Over on the other side was a small, black cloth sofa with stainless steel legs. A series of small photographs hung over the sofa depicting blue jays in various settings. The floor looked to be white marble which was highlighted by the pastel mix of yellow and orange covering the walls and ceiling.
She had come in early due to a rather strange phone call she had received earlier. The call was patched through the city dispatcher and transferred to her home. A Sergeant O’Leary of the sheriff’s department had a rather odd story concerning a homicide, and how a mix-up had occurred concerning who had jurisdiction. It was followed by an apology, which she accepted gracefully.
She already notified the city forensics and coroner’s office to send their personnel to the crime scene, along with several city police units. All she needed now was to assign a detective team to get the ball rolling, but therein lay her dilemma. All her detectives were already assigned other caseloads except Detective Donald Smith, who currently had no partner. He had received her ‘911’ page and was just now arriving at the station.
“Please, take a seat, Detective.” She pointed toward the sofa.
As he entered, he experienced the same impression he had the last time he was called to her office, that all the odd colors just made no sense. It seemed to him, some psycho had run amuck with a multicolored spray gun.
Donald Smith, who preferred to be called Donny, stood just barely five feet seven inches and maintained the body of a welterweight boxer. He had the chest and abdominal muscles of a wrestler, and the biceps of an Olympic discus thrower. Being an avid jogger kept his thigh and calf muscles toned and ready for action, not to mention his rock-hard buns.
Young, only thirty-three, he was astonishingly handsome for a detective; nothing like the old, over-the-hill types that made up the rest of the homicide division.
Stylish short black hair complemented his strong cheek bones and chiseled jaw line. Clean shaven, with smooth skin covering his entire almost hairless body. Had it not been for his career as a police officer, he could have easily been a male model in one of the current women’s fashion magazines. Dressed in a navy blue suit, a red and white pinstriped tie only added to his masculinity. The very image of a ‘man’ women wait their entire lives trying to catch.
In the all-male homicide squad, he was the youngest by far to reach the rank of detective. Openly gay, and proud of it, not only broke the hearts of the local female population, it left him without a partner, as the other homophobic officers refused to team up with him. This was the chief’s problem. Who would be assigned to work with Donny and not be offended by his obvious sexual preference?
Chief Temme had already heard the whispers—‘fag’ and ‘queer’—as the other detectives passed her doorway. Alas, she finally came up with the perfect solution to her puzzling dilemma.
“Good morning, Chief,” he said with a sleepy expression on his boyish face. “What’s up with the ‘911’ call?” Donny flashed his famous smile.
“Save the charm, we’ve got a problem as you’re well aware. None of the other detectives feel comfortable working with you,” she said frankly.
“Yes, I know, it’s the homosexual thing, isn’t it?” he said still smiling.
“I should say it was a problem, but I’ve found a unique solution,” she stated, now grinning herself.
“Hey, I’d rather work by myself than with one of those pot-bellied bigots.”
“You know departmental regulations; no detective works alone, period. But, as I just said, I have the perfect answer to our little problem of you needing a partner who won’t mind if you’re gay.”
“And what did you come up with?” he said, as he leaned forward on the edge of the sofa. His curiosity was now piqued. Knowing Chief Temme was a very intelligent woman, he also knew she had a sinister sense of humor.
Rachel sat at her desk with her hands clasped in front of her, showcasing her long, slender fingers. Clearing her throat, she began, “As you may or may not know, Alvin Korba has resigned and been hired over at the State Police Post. I interviewed an applicant just yesterday, and found her to be the perfect one to replace Alvin. She’s from a small town, just over the Arkansas border in Texas. Her arrest record speaks for itself. She’ll be arriving any minute now, and starts today as your new partner.” Rachel observed Donny’s face for his reaction to the news she dropped in his lap.
“A female detective, I should have thought of that,” he said, easing back on the sofa. A feeling of relief washed over him, as now he wouldn’t have to contend with the old guard and their hatred of gays. Fear of being thought of as a ‘fag’ or ‘cock sucker’ by a new partner had caused him some sleepless nights, but now, he could relax. A female partner would be more understanding, he felt, especially since women have been treated poorly by the old male establishment for decades.
“Oh, it gets better; she’s also a lesbian and proud to be one. Actually, she’s damn proud of it. As I’m sure you’ll soon discover for yourself,” she said with a short laugh.
Surprised for a moment, Detective Smith sat stunned. Regaining his composure a few seconds later, “You put me with a lesbian?”
“That’s right, and I expect you to show her around, get her familiar with our procedures. Understand?” she said in her official ‘chief of police’ tone.
“Yes, I fully understand. When do I…” Several raps on the glass door interrupted him in mid-sentence.
“To finish your question, you get to meet her right now,” Rachel said as she waved her new detective in.
“Detective Angel Jones, I’d like to introduce your new partner, Detective Donald Smith,” Chief Temme said.
“Just call me Donny,” he said standing and extending his hand.
Grasping and shaking his hand, “Okay, Donny, you can call me Angel.”
Donny was momentarily caught off-guard. Angel Jones stood a good three inches taller than him, and outweighed him by a good twenty pounds, all muscle, with little body fat. Angel’s yellow-blonde dyed hair was short and spiked on top, with a tight razor cut on both sides. Yet it was shoulder-length in the back. Her right ear contained seven piercings; the left ear held only three. A diamond nose-stud adorned her left nostril and while she spoke it was evident her tongue had been pierced as well.
The black sleeveless jacket and black zip-up motorcycle boots matched her outdated red leather mini-skirt. Each forearm contained an obvious tattoo; one of a lion’s head on the right with the ominous beast baring its fangs, and the other containing a winged angel.
Donny was rubbing his hands together, trying to get the blood circulating again after the bone-crushing grip his new partner had just delivered.
“All right, now that you two have met, I have a case already in progress for you to investigate. It’s over on 2218 Park Street, apartment twelve. A man named James Butler was shot once in the chest.” Chief Temme handed a slip of paper with the name and address on it to Detective Smith.
“James Butler? What’s this guy’s story?” Donny asked, looking up from the paper slip.
“Why that would be your job to figure out, Detective Smith, isn’t that in your job description?” Chief Temme said while shaking her head in disbelief at his silly question. “Forensics and the medical examiner are already there waiting on you two.”
“We’re on it Captain,” Angel said as she pulled open the office door.
“Its ‘Chief,’ not ’Captain,’ Detective Jones,” she said in her official stern voice.
“Yes ma’am, I hear ya. Okay, let’s go Donny,” Angel said as she went into the hallway.
Donny glanced over at Rachel and rolled his eyes.
“I knew you’d like her,” she grinned, then waved him on.
“I’ll get you for this,” Donny said as he shook his finger mockingly at her.
“Just do your job, and remember it’s her first day, so be nice. That’s an order.”
Donny caught up with Angel, who was standing at the edge of the parking lot, looking over the cruisers.
“We’re the dark gray one over by the fence,” he said pointing. “Tomorrow we’ll sign out a set of keys so you’ll have access to everything at the station.”
“Sounds great, I can’t wait.” Angel headed for the old Ford LTD, followed by her new partner. She was a go-getter from the start.
“So, how long have you been on the force?” she asked as they drove from the parking lot heading to the crime scene.
“Twelve years now. I made detective less than a year ago. But I haven’t had a steady partner, none of the bigots wanted to team up with me.”
“Oh yes, the ‘fag’ issue. I’ve run across the same shit in Texas. Good ol’ boys just love to fuck with the gays and lesbians down there,” she said in a somber voice.
“I’ve just got to ask, where do you carry your gun?” Donny’s curiosity got the better of him. He just couldn’t see, with such a tight outfit and a mini-skirt to boot, where on earth she could conceal it.
“Well nosy, I don’t carry a big 9mm like you tough guys. I carry a small .22 Magnum in my see-through panties,” she answered with a big grin.
“In an emergency, can you pull it out fast enough to protect yourself?” he shot back.
“Honey, you’d be damn amazed how fast my panties come off when the need arises,” she said without blinking.
“Yeah, I’ll just bet they do,” he replied sarcastically.
Donny wasn’t impressed with his new partner so far. The profanity and sexual innuendos he felt were crass and a sign of poor upbringing.
The over-the-top piercing, tattoos, and the gaudy outfit she was wearing embarrassed him personally and professionally. Nevertheless, he was determined to bite his tongue and keep his thoughts to himself, if at all possible.
There came a long silence as Donny was taken aback for a time at how rude and intrusive Angel’s questions seemed to be getting. Sure she was just trying to get a feel for her new partner, he surmised, yet her questions were crossing the line of decency, or at least his understanding of it. There were limits, he felt, to even what a partner should know and have access to concerning one’s private life.
“Look, I don’t feel comfortable talking about certain things, if you don’t mind?” He figured she would understand, especially since they shared a common background, with both being gay.
“So, you a bottom or a top?” Angel persisted in trying to pry personal information from him. She was very adept at getting under people’s skin, and he was no exception.
“What?” Looking over at her in disbelief. “Obviously you have a hearing problem, or is it some kind of learning disability?”
“Fuck, what’s your problem? I’m tryin’ to get closer to you so we can be a fuckin’ team…back each other up when the shit goes down. You hear what I’m sayin’ pretty boy?” she shot back.
“I don’t care for your negative attitude, and for your profanity that spews from your potty mouth. I don’t know why lesbians feel the need to be so macho,” he said, now turning onto Park Street.
“You can kiss my tight ass, sissy boy. This is who I am and I’m not changing my ways to please your dumb ass, you hear me?” The agitation was evident by the stare she was giving Donny.
Donny pulled up to the curb about a half block from the apartment building, since all the parking spaces were occupied by forensics, medical examiners and police cruisers. They exited the car, and as Donny came around the front of the vehicle, he spied Angel standing on the sidewalk with her arms crossed in front, glaring at him.
“So, we gonna conduct ourselves as fuckin’ professionals or what?” Angel said as he came up to her.
“Whatever,” he said as he walked past her heading for the crime scene.
Angel turned slowly and watched Donny, then finally proceeded to follow his lead. Giving him time to adjust to her abrasive personality was what the situation called for, or so she thought.
Officer Dearborn and her partner Officer Johnson were securing the outside area when they spotted the detectives coming up the street.
“Good morning, Detective Smith,” Dearborn said. Leaning over to get a better view of the female following him, she whispered, “Who’s the crazed-looking hooker following you?” She asked in earnest.
Donny had to smile at that question; it confirmed that it wasn’t just he who thought Angel was creepy looking. “Officer Dearborn that would be my new partner, Detective Jones.”
“A bit on the flaky side, huh?” Dearborn said as Donny shook his head in the affirmative.
Officer Dearborn explained the earlier situation concerning the boundary line dispute with Sergeant O’Leary, and that they were then sent back several hours later to re-take the crime scene per Chief Temme. When they arrived, O’Leary handed her the crime scene info and just walked away, never said a word.
Donny read over the information and made his way to the apartment. Angel was already leaning over the body, making mental notes to herself. She didn’t believe in writing things down; she had a photogenic mind.
The city forensics unit had already been given all the evidence collected by the county squad, and had gathered what little more they required. The coroner’s crew was waiting for permission to take the body.
Donny put on his rubber gloves and gave James Butler’s body a good going-over before giving the nod to the coroner’s boys. As they bagged up the corpse, Donny approached Angel to see what conclusions she might have come up with; he wanted to compare notes as it were.
“Well, Angel, what are your thoughts on this homicide?” His tone was soft and informal.
“I’d say, Detective Smith, the bastard’s dead, how ‘bout that?” Her tone was harsh, and it was evident she was still upset over their conversation from the ride over.
“Okay, so we got off to a rocky start. I’m willing to apologize and to start over. Can you at least meet me halfway?” Donny asked in his most sincere voice. His priority was to solve the case, not get into a battle of wits with his new quirky partner.
Angel stared at him for a few moments then extended her right hand. “I’m Detective Angel Jones. It’s nice to meet you, Detective Smith. May I call you Donny?” She followed her mock re-introduction with a warm, personal smile.
Clasping her hand, he shook it gently. “Yes, you can call me Donny, and may I call you Angel?”
“Yes, please do. Now then, back to business. So what did the sheriff’s department notes say?” She was happy he apologized.
“Not much, something about there being no sign of a break-in, so they deduced he must have opened the door willingly, so he knew his murderer. Said there were no drugs found in the apartment, so they ruled out a drug deal gone bad. They listed two people to interview. Agnes Blakewood in apartment eleven and Ryan Wily in apartment twenty-four. That’s about all they had.” Donny said looking up at Angel. “You have any theories what might have occurred here Angel?”
“Yes, I think the butler did it,” she said laughingly. “Get it? The butler did it—James Butler?”
“Yes, very amusing Detective.” Donny was in no mood for her silliness, yet he didn’t push it. He felt he was already on thin ice with Angel.
“Lets’ go interview apartment eleven, and then apartment twenty-four, all right?”
“After that, how ‘bout we see what those shitheads back at the lab came up with for the ballistics? See what caliber the gun was. Those forensic jerks any good at their jobs?” Angel cracked wise.
“We have an excellent lab facility, and a dedicated team of workers. They’re more than able to do the job at hand, thank you,” he shot back, feeling the need to defend his teammates. She was getting on his nerves again, but he maintained control of his temper.
“Maybe tomorrow we can get a fuckin’ copy of the autopsy report.” Angel added.
“One step at a time, Angel, one step at a time.” He half-heartedly figured he must have really pissed God off to be saddled with such a foul-mouthed demon dyke like her.
“I don’t feel right just going by the sheriff notes. Let’s do a quick investigation of Butler’s apartment, and see what we get before interviewing the neighbors,” he said turning and looking for Angel’s response.
“Okay, lets’ do it, my little superstar,” she said, not meaning to sound condescending, yet that’s how he heard it.
The medical examiners technicians who had been listening to the odd exchange between the two detectives simply shrugged their shoulders as they transported the body out to their vehicle.
“This is what I got from my examination of Butler’s body. There was a single entry wound to the upper chest cavity, and no exit wound on his back. No sign of a struggle or fight, no marks of any kind on his body. Whoever shot him didn’t force the door open, there were no signs of tampering or pry marks on the door or windows. Butler was wearing only gray sweat pants, no socks, shoes or shirt. No wristwatch, rings or jewelry of any kind. He was clean shaven and there was a smell of after-shave, so he probably took a shower recently. He was tall, and in great physical condition, so I doubt he was afraid of whomever he saw through the peephole. Oh, and I figured by the size of the entry wound it’s most likely a .38 caliber weapon.” Donny said as he finished up his little summation. Removing his rubber gloves, he adjusted his tie.
“Pretty observant for a prissy little fag. Maybe you’re smarter than you look.” Angel said with a sarcastic gleam in her eyes.
“Now don’t be jealous of my investigative skills,” he said trying to give her a little dig.
Angel didn’t take the bait; she held her tongue, for now.
Donny announced, “Okay, time to check out the neighbors.”