by Amore, Dani
Mary thought back to the first time she met him—what an arrogant prick he’d been at ExtReam Productions.
“Look, asshole,” she said. “I know that you know where Nina Ramirez is.”
“Awwww,” Buslipp groaned.
Mary drove with one hand. With the other, she put the muzzle of her gun against Buslipp’s temple.
“Where. Is. She.”
”I . . . we . . . sold her,” Buslipp said.
“To who?”
“They did. The MS-13 guys.”
“So you were never going to give Nina back to her mother?”
“I wanted to, but they said they could make more money selling her to . . .”
“To who?” Mary said. She pressed the gun even harder into Buslipp’s face.
“Some horrible people,” Buslipp said.
“Unlike you?”
“I think they’re doing it tonight, out in the desert. Sometime tonight,” he said. “They wanted to wait until the money was in hand, just in case.”
“What are they doing tonight?” Mary said.
Buslipp groaned.
“They’re filming,” he said.
“What are they filming?” Mary said, expecting porn to be the answer.
“Her murder,” Buslipp said.
Forty-four
The Salton Sea is the largest lake in California, and it is a disaster. Originally created by the flooding of the Colorado River, it has seen various attempts at rehabilitation over the past one hundred years, at least.
All to no avail.
It is a huge body of water that has a higher salt content than the Pacific Ocean. Most of the fish are dead, and the birds are worried.
Mary drove through the desert, circling the lake, following Buslipp’s directions and trying to restrain herself from putting a bullet through his head and feeding him to the coyotes.
“I didn’t know,” Buslipp said.
“Fuck you,” Mary said. “You knew goddamn well who you were selling her to. You are a filthy, sick bastard.”
He had told her they were probably making the snuff film at a place the illegal pornographers used for their illegal productions. If you wanted to make kiddie porn, film violence, and maybe even shoot a snuff film every year or so, this was the place you went.
The little porn complex was a series of aluminum farm buildings and trailers that represented the only signs of human habitation in the area.
It took her nearly a half hour to find it.
“Well, we’re here,” Mary said, and whipped the barrel of her .45 against Buslipp’s temple. He flopped forward and fell against the dashboard like a tree limb that had been freed by a chainsaw.
She got out of the car and circled the biggest and most centrally located warehouse, although it looked like little more than an overgrown metal garage.
There were no windows, and two doors, one on what was probably the front and another in the back corner.
She figured the front would be locked so she tried the back door.
It was locked.
A generator sat behind the building, with thick cables running through a temporary patch in the side of the building.
Mary found her way to a hinged panel next to the part of the generator that had the cables attached.
She unclasped the lid, lifted it, and saw a vast array of switches.
In the dark, she couldn’t make out any identifying marks, so she turned each one in the opposite direction.
Immediately, the generator stopped and started making strange noises.
She repositioned herself by the back door.
In a matter of minutes, the door opened, and a man wearing jeans and a T-shirt emerged. He headed straight for the generator, cursing under his breath. Mary clocked him on the head with her .45, went back to the door, and slipped inside the building.
Forty-five
It was an image she instantly knew she would never forget.
A camera on a tripod, two large stands with giant lights on them, and a bed.
On the bare mattress was Nina Ramirez, her legs spread and tied to the corners of the bedposts, her arms also bound, behind her head.
To the right of the camera, propped up against equipment crates was another person with his arms tied behind his back and a strip of duct tape across his mouth. She recognized this person.
Jake.
Two men stood next to the camera. One looked like a security guard. And the second man was tiny, couldn’t have been more than five feet tall.
“Freeze!” she yelled out.
The security guard spun toward Mary, reaching for the gun that was holstered on his hip.
He stopped when he saw the muzzle of Mary’s gun pointing at him.
She kept her gun on the big man, went to Jake, and pulled the duct tape from his mouth.
“Congrats on landing the part,” Mary said. “Lend me a hand here?”
“There’s a utility knife right there,” he said, pointing with his chin toward a metal table off to the side of the stage.
Mary kept her gun trained on the two men as she grabbed the knife and cut the ropes on Jake’s hands.
She carefully handed him her gun and pulled the small pistol from her ankle holster. While Jake covered the two near the camera, she went to Nina.
Mary cut the girl’s restraints and pulled the gag from the girl’s mouth.
“It’s going to be okay,” Mary said.
Nina whimpered something Mary couldn’t understand. She saw a blanket on the floor next to the bed, picked it up, and helped Nina cover herself with it.
“Let’s make some arrests,” Mary said to Jake, who was already moving toward the two men still standing by the camera.
“Put down the gun, Paolo,” Jake said.
“Fucking Drag Ass is a cop,” the little man said.
“Shut up, Morrison, you little piece of shit,” Jake said.
The back door banged open, and Vince Buslipp stumbled inside.
“Cops!” he shouted.
The man Jake had called Paolo lunged forward with his gun in his hand, but Jake was faster and shot him. The bullet hit the big man high, taking out most of his forehead and causing him to spin, his finger pulling the trigger and spraying bullets around the warehouse.
Mary ducked and watched as a round caught Buslipp in the throat. He dropped to his knees, blood spraying from his neck. The little man raced for the door, but Jake tripped him with his hand, causing him to fall on his face.
Jake got to his feet and kicked the little man in the ribs.
“And that’s a wrap,” he said, giving Morrison another kick, this time in the belly.
The door burst open again and cops filled the room, with Jake meeting them at the door.
Mary caught a glimpse of Lieutenant Arianna Davies’s pale face. Typical, she thought. A day late and a dollar short.
She went back to Nina, who was trying to sit up and hugged the girl. “It’s over, Nina,” Mary said. The girl’s face was pale and disoriented, she had obviously been drugged.
“It’s okay,” Mary repeated.
“Where am I?” Nina said.
“It doesn’t matter,” Mary said. “You’re going home.”
Forty-six
From the television set in Alice’s living room, a news announcer described the affair that had resulted in a child the mayor of Los Angeles apparently knew nothing about. The freshly deceased Derek Jarvis was taking center stage in the scandal, with reporters speculating on the political fallout.
The public-relations machine that was the LAPD also made some pretty interesting comments, at least from Mary’s perspective. It seemed they were taking credit for breaking up a ring of illegal pornographers, thanks to the work of an especially brave undercover officer.
“I can’t believe no one is talking about the Vice cop who became a porn star during this whole ordeal,” Mary said. “That’s a great news angle. Officer Goes Down is the title, I believe.”
“I like it,” Jake sai
d.
“Oh, I know you do,” Mary said.
Alice came out of the kitchen carrying a tray with two beers and two martinis.
“Jake, I always knew you would end up in porn,” Alice said. “I see you as the young student seduced by the nasty old anatomy teacher. Played by Mary.”
She handed a beer each to Jake and Mary, then a martini to Sanji. Alice set the tray down and took the last martini for herself.
“Thank you, Delicate Flower,” Sanji said to Alice, then slapped her on the ass.
“My pleasure, Long Cobra.”
Mary rolled her eyes, while noticing that Jake was trying not to giggle.
Alice plopped down next to Sanji and put her hand on his thigh. The yoga instructor stroked Alice’s hand.
“So what happens to the girl now?” Alice asked Mary.
“She’s with her mother. Her real, honest-to-goodness mother,” Mary said. “For now.”
It really wasn’t over, in a sense. Mary still had the suitcase of money in the trunk of her car. She figured someone would come looking for it eventually, but until then, she would hold onto it.
“So what about you two?” Alice asked.
Jake looked at Mary with a question in his eyes.
“Yeah, what about us?” he said, putting an arm around her shoulders. “I think my next role will be boyfriend of Mary Cooper.”
“Maybe,” Mary said. She resisted the urge to snuggle up against him. “First, let’s see how you do on my casting couch.”
THE END
GROSS SARCASTIC HOMICIDE
(Mary Cooper Mystery #3)
by
Dani Amore
GROSS SARCASTIC HOMICIDE
Copyright ©2013 by Dani Amore
All rights reserved.
GROSS SARCASTIC HOMICIDE is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission from the author.
GROSS SARCASTIC HOMICIDE
(Mary Cooper Mystery #3)
by
Dani Amore
“It’s never funny until someone gets hurt.”
-Unknown
One
The man staggered down the street. Set against the pitch black of the night, the streetlights caused his blubbery, pale skin to glow. He crashed into a parked car and let out a moan as tears streamed down his face. A large pacifier hung from a thin band that had been stapled directly into the skin on his chest and blood oozed from around the wounds.
He was naked, except for a giant white diaper.
More blood gushed from a deep gash in his midsection that spanned the entire width of his belly. He had pressed one of his forearms against it, in an attempt to staunch the wound and possibly hold back his insides, but the attempt was not successful.
“Help me…someone…” the man cried out, the words pushed from his mouth with a gasp.
His bare feet made slapping sounds on the asphalt and then stopped as his legs gave out and he fell on his side. He rolled over onto his back and his arms fell to his sides. Blood gushed from the wounds on his stomach.
A car approached, slowed, and then sped up once the occupants took in the man’s condition.
It took several more cars to pass before someone called 911.
The first cops arrived on the scene twenty minutes later.
By then, the man was dead.
The two cops stood and looked down at the deceased. One of them knelt down beside the man to check for a pulse. He looked up at his partner.
“Nothing sadder than a dead baby,” he said.
Two
“Shhh, here he is.” The director of the intervention, a psychologist named Dr. Paulette Blevins, turned to the assembled Coopers, seated on folding chairs hastily arranged into a semicircle. They were in a conference room of a chain hotel on Ocean Avenue in Santa Monica.
“Who the hell set this up?” Kurt Cooper asked. “I’ve got an audition at noon.” He was a disheveled man well past middle-aged, wearing a Ralph’s supermarket shirt, 100% polyester, and jean shorts. He had on black socks and purple Crocs.
“If you’re trying out for the part of a homeless pedophile, I think you nailed it,” Alice Cooper said. She was Kurt’s sister.
“You should talk,” he responded. “Those jeans are so tight your stomach is pushing up against your chin.”
“Come on you two,” Mary Cooper said. Mary was a private investigator in Los Angeles, and the niece of both Kurt and Alice. She had been raised by Alice after her parents were lost at sea when she was very young.
“As much as you two could use some counseling, we’re here to help someone else,” Mary said. She turned to the psychologist. “And exactly who are we here to help?”
The woman started to answer but just then the door to the conference room opened and Jason Cooper walked in. He was Kurt’s son, in his early twenties, tall, thin and stooped. He had an attractive face that was mostly hidden by long hair. The usual cloud of marijuana stench accompanied him into the room.
“Looks like the party has arrived,” Mary said.
“Do you know what the hell this is about?” Kurt asked his son. “I’ve got some new material I need to tweak before I slaughter them at the LaFFactory.”
“Your material doesn’t need tweaking,” Alice pointed out. “It needs to be euthanized. For everyone’s sake.”
“This is an intervention,” Jason said, interrupting Kurt and Alice. He sat down in the chair next to the shrink, with a look on his face of great solemnity. Or he was totally stoned, Mary couldn’t quite guess which.
“You’re one to talk,” Kurt said to Alice, ignoring Jason’s announcement. “You look like a ball park hotdog just before it explodes.”
Mary held up her hand.
“Please, you two,” she said. “We’re here to help someone and I’d hate to get things off on the wrong foot by shooting one of you.”
“Thank you,” the psychologist said, her voice wary. “Now, I assume you all have your prepared statements you’d like to share with Jason.”
Mary looked at the psychologist, then at Jason, then back at the psychologist.
“The intervention is for him?” Alice said, pointing at her nephew.
The psychologist raised an eyebrow. “Yes, of course. You mean you aren’t prepared?”
“I’m prepared to kick someone’s pathetic ass,” Kurt said.
“Who set this up?” Mary said to Dr. Blevins. She had been dragged along by Alice, who had only said it was an important meeting about a family member’s health.
“I did,” Jason said.
“Good Christ,” Kurt muttered.
“Unbelievable,” Alice said.
“Oh my,” Dr. Blevins said. “This is a first.”
“Are you telling me you scheduled your own intervention?” Mary said to Jason.
He nodded. “It’s a cry for help.” On cue, a small tear formed in the corner of his eye.
“For crying out loud, I’m outta here,” Kurt said. He got to his feet abruptly, then grabbed his lower back in pain. “Goddamn fruit crates!”
“Dad,” Jason said to him. “Please.”
Mary looked at the calendar on her cell phone. Her morning had suddenly cleared up.
“I want to change direction in my life,” Jason said. “And I need the support of my family.”
“Son, your life hasn’t had direction since you shot out of your mother’s cooker,” Kurt said.
“What is it you’re trying to do?” Alice said. “Besides piss us all off.”
“I want to cut down on my pot smoking and beer drinking, and become a professional surfer. Or a bodybuilder
.”
“Cut down?” Alice said as she got to her feet.
Kurt hobbled from the room.
Alice put her hand on Mary’s shoulder. “Why don’t you stay and talk to him? You know all about struggling careers.”
Jason also stood. “They said this was going to be difficult; they were right.” His lower lip quivered.
“Please, Jason,” Dr. Blevins said, but he ignored her and left the room.
Mary looked at the doctor and shrugged her shoulders. “I can’t help people who don’t want to be helped.”
She got to her feet, but was stopped short by Dr. Blevins.
“Miss Cooper?” the psychologist said.
Mary looked up from her phone.
“Is it true you’re a private investigator?”
“Sure is,” Mary said. “And I have no intention of cutting down on my drinking.”
“Well, at least something good could come out of this unusual situation, then.”
“Such as?” Mary said.
“I might want to hire you,” the shrink said.
Mary waited.
“It’s one of my patients. He was murdered.”
Three
Mary took the seat next to Dr. Paulette Blevins. It was still warm from Jason’s sorry ass. She made a mental note to kick that ass the next time she saw it.
Who scheduled their own intervention? Mary idly wondered if Jason had brought a little speech he’d prepared in which he talked about how much he loved himself. It wouldn’t have surprised her.
“Well that was certainly interesting,” Dr. Blevins said.
Even though it was a conference room at a crappy hotel, Mary felt strange sitting next to a psychologist. Many of her friends and all of her family had strongly urged her to see a shrink at various times in her life, pointing out the many incidents that seemed to suggest serious mental issues on her part. Naturally, she had told them to go to hell. Then added a bunch of facial tics during the delivery to confuse them.