Do You Want To Play: A Detroit Police Procedural Romance (4 page)

THE PROSTITUTE, NOW sixteen years old, hangs out around Greektown Casino. She goes by the name Jasmine. She’s 5’3”, has bleached blonde hair and deep ocean-blue eyes. She’s wearing jean shorts and a tank top that is two sizes too small. I have no idea how Timothy could have thought she was sixteen years old when it doesn’t look like she has hit puberty, but we looked into all of Timothy’s associates and none of them looked like they could be the killer’s, so she’s our only other lead.

“You must be Jasmine,” I say. She looks at me out of the corner of her eye as I approach her, every muscle in her legs tensing as she prepares to run. “Don’t worry. I’m not here to bust you for anything. I just want to ask you a few questions.”

“About what?” she asks, thrusting her chin up in defiance. I show her a photograph of Timothy Wood.

“This used to be one of your johns. Do you know anyone who knew about the two of you?” I ask. She smirks.

“Lady, do you think I go advertising who pays for me?” she asks.

“Well, Timothy said he didn’t tell anyone about the two of you either, but someone found out,” I say. “So, one of you had to have told someone or someone must have seen the two of you.”

She purses her lips together and takes another look at the photo.

“That’s the real smart guy, right?” she asks. I nod.

“Yeah, he and I used to do the deed in his car in front of his apartment,” she says.

“Where does he live again?” I ask. “Southwest Detroit, right?”

“West Outer Drive,” she says. “It’s the red brick building that’s slanted.”

I jot down the information. “Thank you, Jasmine.”

“No probs,” she says. “Can I ask what you’re investigating?”

“Murder,” I say. “So I advise that you stay away from that area.”

“If I avoided every area that had a murder, I would have nowhere to work,” she says.

“Well, this is a serial killer,” I say. I take out my wallet and pull out a few twenty-dollar bills. “Find yourself a place to stay tonight…and if I find out that you used that money for drugs, I will arrest you and give you the longest sentence possible.”

She takes the money, her bottom lip sticking out. “Thanks…that’s really nice of you.”

“Avoid being alone at night,” I say.

She smirks again. “Funny. I’m never alone at night. I’m only alone in the morning.”

“Maybe that can change,” I say. She shrugs and walks away from me. I got back to Tobias’ Taurus. I get into the passenger side and he starts the car.

“I don’t understand why I couldn’t be out there,” he says.

“You’re a man,” I say. “Why would she trust you when she has only ever been used by men?”

“She doesn’t need to trust me, she just needs to tell me the truth,” he says. “What did you find out?”

“Well, Jasmine says that she and Timothy used to have sex outside of his apartment in his car—”

“Gross.”

“—so I’m thinking maybe a neighbor noticed someone taking photographs, or it could have been a neighbor that took the photographs.”

“Or the prostitute could be lying,” Tobias says. He flips on his turn signal as he stops at an intersection.

“I don’t think so.”

“Because of your faith in humanity?” he asks.

“No, because I’m one of the few people who treated her like a person instead of a commodity,” I say. He nods.

“You’re a good person,” he says. I glance over at him.

“And what are you?”

He shrugs. “Considerably less than a good person.”

~~~~~

Tomorrow, Tobias and I will canvass the neighborhood where Timothy Wood lives. As I step out of the police station, a woman with crimson hair and a pencil skirt that displays her long, lean legs stands on the stairs. Tobias’ body tenses, but the woman is calm as she walks up to him.

“Anna,” Tobias says. My eyes widen and I take a small step back.

“Tobias,” she says. “Since you refused to see me, I thought I’d stop by.”

“Your thoughts never lead you in the right direction,” he says. “So I would suggest that you stop doing everything that you think about.”

“That’s not true,” she says. “My thoughts led to you.”

“Then apparently at some point you stopped thinking of me,” he snaps. “When was that? Was it as soon as we moved in together? Or when I was promoted to detective? When did you decide that I didn’t matter?”

“I never decided anything,” she says. “I was drunk one night and slept with him. Then I…I couldn’t stop. I just kept—”

“You couldn’t stop,” he says. “That’s your best defense? You just felt forced to keep sleeping with him? Telling him that you loved him?”

“I was confused,” she says. “I wasn’t sure what I wanted. But now I am. I want you. I want to get back together.”

I can see Tobias’ eyes soften and his body relaxes. Anna takes a step closer to him, cups his face in her hands, and kisses him, so softly that their lips barely touch.

“It could be like how it was before,” she says. She kisses him again and he closes his eyes, as if he were remembering a time when things were simpler. Her eyes flicker over to me as she kisses the side of his neck. Her look is clear—she sees me as an enemy and intruder. I turn away. I can still hear her whisper, “I could make you forget every little stress. Just give me an hour. Or two.”

Tobias opens his eyes and for the briefest moment he glances over at me. His gaze returns to Anna. He puts his hands on her shoulders and gently pushes her back.

“I understand,” he says. She smiles. “I didn’t know what I wanted before too. I thought what I wanted was you, but I was wrong. We were always wrong for each other, Anna. I may still be angry about it, but the truth is that the fact you confessed to me that night is the best thing that could have happened.”

Her whole face crumples. “No, Tobias, come on. We deserve a second chance. You can’t just…I love you. You can’t do this. I love you so much, and I will never act like I did before. I promise.”

Tobias takes her hand and squeezes it.

“You should go home,” he says. “Be safe.”

He releases her hand and turns to face me. Anna’s lower lip is trembling, but she seems to be trying to keep it together. Our eyes catch and her cheeks turn pink.

“Are you ready?” he asks. I nod. We begin to walk toward my apartment. I want to say something about what just happened, but I honestly don’t feel like it involves me. It’s a closed chapter in his life and now he’s beginning a new one.

“I hope you can deal with all of his baggage!” Anna screams to me, her voice breaking on the word
baggage
. I try to ignore the implication in her statement because I know Tobias has made peace with how she betrayed him. Still, I can feel that he is still weighed down by something that I don’t know about. I know that some chapters don’t simply end—they bleed into all of the other chapters until every page in your life is stained.

~~~~~

I knock on the door directly across from Timothy Wood’s apartment. It’s one of the few houses on the block, though, like the others, it is Victorian-style. Tobias and I have already questioned Timothy’s apartment neighbors, the occupants of another apartment beside it, and the store owner of a shoe shop on its other side. Tobias cracks his knuckles.

“I don’t know how honest that shoe store owner was being,” he says. “I don’t trust him.”

“Do you trust anybody?” I ask.

“My mother,” he says.

“You’re just a psychologist’s gold mine, aren’t you?” I ask.

“Yeah, I except I turn into a land mine if they get too close,” he says. I take a tiny step away from him as the door swings open. A man in his twenties glances at the two of us, his light brown hair in disarray as if he just woke up.

“We don’t want whatever you’re selling and we don’t need religion,” he says.

“We’re cops,” Tobias says, showing the man his badge. “I’m Detective Rodriguez, this is Detective Williams. Can I ask what your name is?”

“George,” he says. “George Kellerman.”

“Do you live here?”

“Uh, not exactly,” George says. “My mom does. I moved in a few weeks ago because she has lung cancer and needs some help around the house. Hopefully, she’ll get better soon and I can move back into my old apartment.”

“Is your mother here?” Tobias asks.

“Yeah, um, come in,” he says. Tobias and I follow him inside. The house seems to be past its prime, with pale blue wallpaper peeling around the edges and the white tile floors tinted yellow. George leads us to the kitchen, where a bald elderly woman sits in a wheelchair at a table. As she turns, I see that she has a compressed-oxygen mask covering her mouth. She eyes us suspiciously as we walk in. George sits across from her.

“Hello,” Tobias says. “Are you Mrs. Kellerman?”

The woman lowers her oxygen mask.

“It’s Mary Kellerman, not that it’s any of your business” she says. “You’re the one in my house. You should be telling me who you are.”

Tobias and I exchange a look. We’ve interviewed about a dozen people, and an old lady will be the most volatile one.

“You have a neighbor named Timothy Wood,” Tobias says. He sets a photo of Timothy in front of her. She stares at it. “Have you noticed anything strange about him?”

“This man lives across the street,” she says.

“Yes, he does,” Tobias says. “What do you know about him?”

“He is a dirty man,” she says. She puts the oxygen mask back on and fiddles with the tank. She breathes deeply for a few seconds before sliding down the mask again. “He commits unforgivable sins in his car.”

“Yes, that,” Tobias says. “Have you ever seen anyone taking photographs of him doing these things in his car?”

Mary points a finger at Tobias. “You’re a pervert.”

“No, no, ma’am,” Tobias says as she slides the mask up her face. “This man was blackmailed and we need to figure out who was blackmailing him.”

She waves a hand at him impatiently. She slides the mask back down. “Nasty boy. All you kids are perverts these days.”

He looks up at me.

“I don’t think this is working out too well,” he says. “Should we try the next apartment building?”

I nod. “It seems like Timothy was keeping himself busy in his car, though. I’m sure a lot of people passed by and saw them. I wouldn’t be surprised if a lot of people took photos and video too.”

Mary glares at me and I can feel her condemnation weigh down on me.

“Thank you for your time, Mary,” I say.

“I’ll walk you out,” George says. Tobias, George, and I leave the kitchen.

“So, you guys think someone was blackmailing that guy?” George asks as we reach the door.

“Yeah,” I say. “Did you notice something?”

He flushes. “Well, I didn’t want to say anything in front of my mother…I’m not into that whole voyeurism thing, but I’ve seen quite a few people around here who walk by his car to see if they can get a peek. There’s not much to keep people occupied around here.”

“Have you seen anyone taking photos?” Tobias asks. George’s face turns a deeper red.

“Actually…yes. I mean, I’m sure others have taken photos with their cellphones, but this guy had an expensive kind of camera,” George says. “It was really bizarre because…he was taking them like a professional. I thought the guy”—he gestures to Timothy’s picture—”hired him for kicks. But I guess if you’re asking about it…it wasn’t for fun.”

“No, no, it wasn’t,” Tobias says. “Could you describe him to a sketch artist?”

George nods. “Oh, sure. I just need to make sure my mom is comfortable before I go.”

George walks into the kitchen as Tobias sighs.

“Thank God,” he says. “This means we don’t have to canvass the whole neighborhood.”

I shake my head. “Even if he gives a detailed sketch, we’ll have to canvass the whole neighborhood again to figure out who the man is.”

He claps his hand against my shoulder. “Don’t ruin my moment. We can send a patrol officer to do that.”

His hand slides down my back. It’s lucky that he’s already heading toward the door because I wouldn’t want him to see the shiver it sends through my whole body.

~~~~~

“SO, THE SKETCH was sent to the news stations?” Ray Stewart, my captain, asks. George’s description was quite detailed—dark hair, dark eyes, high cheekbones, and thin lips—and the sketch artist was able to make a drawing that was a match to the man that George saw.

“Yep,” Lauren says, sitting down at the restaurant table. Stewart and I sit down on either side of her. “So, hopefully, someone will call the tip line to tell us who are mysterious voyeur is.”

“Do you think the voyeur is the killer?” he asks.

“It’s possible,” I say. “The killer is very careful about not getting caught, but I’m sure he didn’t think one of the neighbors in the area would notice him taking photos of Timothy Wood.”

“What if it’s not him?” Stewart asks.

“Then, we question the voyeur and figure out why he blackmailed Timothy and who gave him the package,” Lauren says.

“Well, Williams, you are quite the go-getter,” Stewart says. “You might be just what Rodriguez needed.”

“Tobias is pretty persistent too,” she says.

“Mmm…not so much. Not since the Delray massacre,” Stewart says. I glare at him, but as always, he’s oblivious to my rising anger.

“The Delray massacre?” Lauren asks, glancing over at me. I keep my clenched fists under the table and stare down at my silverware. A waitress walks up to us.

“What would you guys like to drink?” she asks. Lauren orders water while Stewart and I get beer.

“I forgot that you haven’t been in Detroit for too long, Lauren,” Stewart says. For the first time, he glances over at me. “I can’t believe that Rodriguez wouldn’t tell you about the massacre though. It was huge around here.”

“What happened?” she asks. I keep my jaw clenched as I stare at Oriental decorations on the wall. Stewart grimaces.

“I shouldn’t be the one to tell you,” he says. “It’s…it was a terrible thing. It’s the kind of thing that makes you a firm believer that humans are inherently evil.”

I see Lauren glance down at her phone. I’m sure that she’s itching to look up the massacre on it.

“Were you there?” Lauren asks me. I try to remember how to breathe.

“Yeah,” I say. The waitress returns with our drinks. After she leaves, I take a sip of my beer. “It happens in this line of work. When you get the badge, you should always have some kind of expectation that you’ll get hurt.”

“Were you hurt?” she asks. I shrug.

“I had a bullet in my pelvis,” I say. “It wasn’t too bad.”

I sip more of my beer and she seems to get the idea that she needs to back off. We eat our Thai food in awkward silences and random comments about the case. Stewart leaves early when he gets a call from Officer Peak about a robbery case. Lauren and I poke at the remains of our food.

“Are we going to talk about the massacre?” she asks.

“No,” I say. She nods and bows her head over her food. She was so vulnerable when she told me about her parents’ deaths, and I can’t even show her the same vulnerability. The waitress stops by with the check and two mints. I take it.

“How much was my meal?” Lauren asks.

“I got it,” I say, pulling out my wallet.

“Come on, we’re partners,” she says. “I can pay for my meal.”

I shake my head and put two twenty-dollar bills on the check. “You can pretend that this is your welcoming meal.”

She puts her straw between her lips and I watch the liquid flow up to her mouth. “Next time, you can just try to be a nicer person.”

“There won’t be a next time,” I say.

“Why?”

“Because you will be my last partner,” I say.

“Because…you’re quitting?” she asks.

“No,” I say. “Because we’re going to stick together and nothing is going to happen to you.”

She watches me as I stand up.

“You just jinxed us,” she says, echoing my own words.

~~~~~

“He looks like Bono,” Lauren says when the sketch of the man who was seen taking professional, pornographic photos of Timothy and Jasmine flickers onto the TV screen.

“Really? He looks like a grungy Brad Pitt to me,” I say.

“Have there been any calls?” she asks. I turn my chair.

“Hey! Richmond!” I call out to one of the patrol officers. “You’ve been helping to man the phones. What have you gotten so far?”

“I have…a lady who thinks her cat needs to be exorcised. A woman who thinks that her—and I quote—
stinkin’, cheatin’, no good husband
is the man in the sketch except her husband has been in prison for the last six years for dealing drugs. I also have a man who confessed to being the man in the sketch and when I asked him what he was confessing to, he said that he robbed four banks. There are a few police officers checking out that one right now. And then I had three different people tell me that the man was Bono.”

“Told you so,” Lauren says.

I turn back to her. “Why do phone tip lines never work?”

“Because it’s a bit like saying
Hey, have you seen this average height, average weight, average looking person before?
And everyone wants to feel like they are contributing,” she says. “Besides, possessed cats are a problem.”

I sigh. “So, we’re back to not having any leads?”

“Other than Bono? No.”

The phone rings beside Richmond. He picks it up. I rub my temple.

“Oh, God, if that’s another senile geriatric, I’m going to tear out the phone lines,” I groan.

“Marcus O’Dell? Why do you think it’s him?” Richmond says into the phone. “Mm-hm. Okay. Okay. Yep. We will check it out. Thank you.”

He hangs up. Lauren pulls up Marcus O’Dell’s criminal record. It isn’t an exact match to the sketch—the nose is a bit bigger and the cheeks are wider—but it’s close enough to check out.

“He recently got out of prison for bribery and extortion. He was also accused of selling child pornography,” she says.

“He’s a professional photographer,” Richmond says, reading from his own computer screen. “For a company called
Dalliance
, which is a pornographic website which features young women. That’s why he was accused of child pornography. There were a few underage women on his website.”

“It doesn’t fit the profile of the killer, though,” Lauren says.

“But it could be someone the killer hired…or blackmailed,” I say. “Should we go see Mr. O’Dell?”

“Absolutely,” she says. She picks up her badge. As we walk out, she grins at me. “I would have preferred it was Bono.”

“Next time,” I say. “I promise.”

~~~~~

Marcus O’Dell looks ten times bigger than his driver’s license makes him appear. His dark hair flecked with gray doesn’t make him seem old. It only makes him look like an alpha wolf, which is amplified by the fact that his teeth are bared when Lauren and I step into his photography studio.

“Ladies!” he yells out. “I need sensual, not constipated. Try to look like you’re enjoying yourself.”

Two naked women are stroking each others’ thighs in front of his camera. Their smiles are forced and they glare at Marcus every time he glances away from them. The camera flashes as Lauren and I approach him.

“Mr. O’Dell?” I ask.

“You can wait,” he says, waving his hand to dismiss us. I scowl.

“Mr. O’Dell, I am a detective at the Detroit police department,” I say. “And any amount of time I wait for you will be time that I’m thinking about what I can charge you with.”

He looks over his shoulder. He focuses on Lauren.

“Now, she can’t be with the police,” he says to me. To her: “But you could be in this photo. Let me tell you, two women are good for business. Three women are good for pleasure.”

I take his camera off the tripod. He eyes me warily.

“What are you doing?” he asks. I toss the camera from my right hand to my left hand. He jerks forward, panic in his eyes.

“What does this camera cost?” I ask. “Ten? Twenty dollars?”

“Nearly two thousand,” he says, trying to snatch the camera from me. I take a step back and throw it higher up in the air.

“Really? That much to take nude photographs?” I ask. “Let me tell you…the men that look at your photographs aren’t looking for high-definition. They just want the general idea.”

I step out of reach again as he lurches forward to grab the camera. I turn toward the naked women.

“You two should grab a blanket or something. This is going to take awhile,” I say. The women nod and scurry for their clothes. Marcus grabs the camera, but I don’t let go of it.

“What do you want?” he demands.

“Do you know Timothy Wood?” I ask.

“No. Why?” he asks. “Is he a jealous boyfriend? Angry dad? These girls give me their consent, so I did nothing wrong. You can tell him to go fuck himself.”

“Well, do you remember taking a photo of a man and an underage prostitute?” I ask. He shakes his head.

“What? No. My business is legitimate. I don’t deal with prostitutes,” he says. I let go of his camera and he cradles it in his hands.

Lauren pulls out a photograph of Timothy Wood. She shows it to Marcus.

“Have you seen him before?” she asks. He shakes his head.

“No,” he says. “I haven’t. He looks like something I would wipe off my shoe.”

“Well, we have someone who saw a guy that looks like you taking photographs of this guy with a young prostitute in his car,” I say. “Are you sure you don’t remember?”

“Where did I supposedly take these photos?” he asks.

“Near the corner of Seminole Street and Norfolk Road,” Lauren says.

“That’s interesting,” O’Dell says. “Did you know I was arrested for extortion?”

“Yes, I’m aware,” I say. “We didn’t come here on a whim. We read your criminal record.”

“Well, you missed the part where it says I have to wear an ankle monitor,” he says, raising his pants leg. The ankle monitor—usually bulky on most criminals—looks minuscule on the giant. “I can only go to my studio and to my house. That corner is about five blocks away from either place. I’ve been wearing this monitor for over a month.”

I turn to Lauren. “What is going on with this case? It’s like every time we take a step forward, we’re actually taking two steps back.”

“The sketch wasn’t an exact match to O’Dell,” she says. “It must be someone else.”

“We don’t even know if this sketch will lead to the killer,” I say. “It could be some random pervert.”

“I vote on the random pervert,” Marcus says. “You would be amazed at how many of those there are.”

“I know,” I say, glancing at him. “I’m looking at one.”

Marcus points his camera toward the two women.

“Let’s get stripping, ladies!” he shouts. I turn to Lauren.

“We should go back to our apartments,” I say. “Give our brains a break. Hope for a breakthrough. Maybe have a breakdown. Do anything that doesn’t involve being here.”

She nods. We leave the studio and get into my Taurus. As we drive away, the sunset smudges orange and red along the horizon. It makes me want to keep driving until I reach the vivid colors, but I know I never could. I glance over at Lauren and I feel a flame inside of me that burns brighter than anything I could see. This is good enough.

~~~~~