Ring...ring...rin “Hello? Who is this and you know what time it is?”
“Julius Florio, come down to the East River now, and yes it’s 2 A.M.” Sternly and coldly a voice said.
Fuck, it’s Sergeant McCallister. Why does the pig always call me at god forsaken hours?
“What a pleasant surprise it’s the always bright and cheerful Sergeant McCallister. What is it this time, can’t find your own head from being shoved up your ass so far?”
“You little sniveling piece of shit, if my superiors would see you for what you really are I would have you arrested for your reckless...”
Click, dumb bastard needs to lighten up just cause he can’t laid or solve his cases for that matter he has to get all hissy with me. Throw on my trench coat and fedora, to give me the 1930’s harden detective look and out into my black Honda Civic hatchback. God could there be anymore disparity in my appearance to the appearance to my car?
It’s 2:20 by the time I get there and Sergeant McCallister is looking as bright and cheerful as a bear mauling a deer.
“Ahh Sergeant McCallister what do I owe this calling of good nature too?” Mockingly.
“Look Florio we have a murder or what we believe to be a murder. He was found by a Mr...Burrow not more than an hour ago. We found track marks...
“O come now McCallister I highly doubt you need me to solve the death of a heroin overdose victim, you insult my intelligence.” Sarcastically, I do love pissing McCallister off.
“You little bastard don’t fucking mock me I swear if I could...” Angrily
“What would you do Sergeant?” Harshly form behind me but with a slight female softness to it.
Ahh, there she is Lieutenant Salazzar, beauty, brain and brawn all wrapped up in a lovely 5’ 7’’ 145 pound package.
“My question is what would you do to me Lieutenant?” Flirtatiously I tease her.
“Florio, if I told you once and I’ve told you a hundred times, we will never work. Now McCallister continue your report without the hostility” With such stoic emotion, she has to be wild in bed.
“Yes, Lieutenant. The track marks isn’t what concern us it’s the pre-mortis bruising that we are concerned with. It appears he was tied down and injected until he overdosed and then was thrown in the river.” Hurt and dejected McCallister continued.
Priceless, that face he makes when his pride is hurt, the old bastard.
“Well now I see your’s and Salazzar’s concern with this case, we can’t have people being drugged to the point of death then tossed in the river like trash now can we. I’ll come by tomorrow after I question Mr. Burrow to see the coroner’s report. Along that note have we questioned Mr. Burrow yet? If not I would like to be the first, but I will tomorrow at Mel’s on 135th and Madison at 9 A.M. Can you relay that to him for me McCallister or should I call and remind you? To you Stephanie I bid farewell and try not to dream about me to much tonight, you know how embarrassed I get with those messages you leave me.” Carelessly I stride past them to my car.
“Fucking bastard.” McCallister whispered under his breath.
“If you weren’t such a jackass, I might actually think of you other when we have a case that we require you on” Salazzar yelled back.
Comebacks are too late I’m already doing 50 down Broadway to the docks, since I’m up it’s only custom I go down to the Empire Club, I’m not doing anything else tonight and won’t start on any leads until tomorrow evening. Trust me it sounds more regal and classy than it really is. A dive bar scene at it’s best. Smoke filled room from cigarettes and cigars. Dirty floors from years of chewing tobacco, blood, piss and vomit. Place smells like shit, vomit, old beer, smoke and dying flesh. The stench burns your nostrils and makes the eyes water or is everyone always silently crying? Place is almost as dark as outside, half the lights work the other half are either broken or burnt out and not to mention the blacked out windows don’t help the case either. Everywhere broken tables, chairs, bar stools and a couple pool tables, but the people in here are more ruined, broken and run down then any piece of furniture in here. Always the same crowd no matter what. Ross and Thomas two poverty stricken brothers both barely able to drink, work here at the docks just to sit here and drink all night. Sid an old safe cracker been on the run since the 80’s for nocking off banks in New Jersey. Pete a convicted drug lord, human trafficker and dog fighter. There’s Mickey an ex-Hell’s Angel retired from raping, murdering and stealing I guess. Then the two sisters, not really but they look out for each other like they are. Marge and Cindy if know them well but if not it’s Star and Honey two old whores all used up giving blow jobs for $25 a pop. Leaving me as the only other regular. If I was working on the case at the moment in stead of working on my third double scotch It would be the perfect place for info on our John Doe from the East River. Instead Cindy is looking better than usual and I need to relax.
I need to stop drinking this late. It’s 8:45, I have 15 minutes till I meet Mr. Burrow, I should really find out his first name. I’m going to be late, the seven block drive will take at least 45 minutes now. Fuck, transit it is then. I hate the subway. Throw on my jeans from the floor, an old shirt hanging on my chair, grab my black track jacket and shove my feet in the old torn Converse and take a Frebreeze shower and I’m done. I knew it the L-train is late as usual its going to be at least 9:45 by the time I get there, now to hope to God he’s still there.
Finally at Mel’s, my other office I’m here so much I feel like I should be paying Varick for rent. Dammit I should have asked for a description of this man. O well fuck it.
“Is there a Mr. Burrow in today!” I yelled out above everyone standing on top of the check in counter.
A wiry man stands up, not what I had expected, he’s about 6’ 2,’’ black shoulder length curly hair, metal rimmed glasses, sharp blue eyes and a tattoo of a cross on the right side of his neck.
“Hello Mr. Burrow, I’m Detective Julius Florio, but just call me Florio. I’m a rather informal man and probably have no other reason to ever see you again.” I can see why people are put off by me now, but fuck it I need results.
“Florio it is then, it’s not an entire pleasure to meet you, but you may call me Seth. What is it that I am meeting you for and why are you late to it?” So serious he could kill a summer day with that tone.
“Seth I want to ask you a few questions about last night and what you saw.” Obviously I looked pissed now. Fucking McCallister, always making it difficult for me.
