Note: I wrote this series of stories while attending Bunker Hill Community College. I was encouraged to continue writing about this character and the setting after my first story so I made it a trilogy. The order it’s presented in is Story 2, Story 1, then Story 3, because for the story's sake, that makes the most sense, chronologically.
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How it All Started
“They say it’s rained 13 out of 16 weeks this summer! Can you believe that?!” The radio blares as I walk into the office.
“It’s always raining here…” I mumbled, closing the door behind me, finally escaping the wet weather, only to be greeted by my secretary, Courtney, chipper, dry, bright eyed and bushy tailed, as if it were a warm summer’s day.
“Morning Detective!” Courtney says to me with a smile and a facetious salute.
“Hey dollface, any new cases to look into?” I return the motion, splashing water from my jacket sleeve in her direction, too tired to make eye contact beyond the cascade from my hat. As I walk past her desk, the sickly sweet smell of cigarettes perfuming her hair fills my nostrils. I get one wet hand to grip the doorknob to my office before she hands me a post-it note with a name and a phone number on it.
“Some guy named Rodolfo came in looking for help.” she chirps between loud smacks of chewing gum.
“Interesting name, what’d he look like?” I turn the handle on my office door, getting one waterlogged loafer between the frame and the door itself.
“Big guy, long hair, some muscle but also kinda chubby. Real impish though, seems like he wouldn’t hurt a fly. Something to do with a girl he knows bein’ stalked, but they’re too afraid to call the cops, so he came to us.”
“I’ll give’em a ring.” I say stepping completely into my office, closing the door gently behind me leaving a small puddle as a parting gift.
“Another rainy day in Port Arthur, Texas!” I decipher from my office radio as I try to tune out the static.
“Yeah tell me somethin’ I don’t know!” the second radio host says, now, much clearer than before.
“Well I bet you haven’t heard this! A classic from Barry Manilow comin at’cha live on KCOL Ninety Two Point Five!”
Before I know it I’m tapping my foot as I pick up the phone, singing as I dial Ronaldo’s number.
“Her name was Lola, she was a showgirl…” I hum along as the phone rings, and rings and rings, when finally-
“Hello?”
“Ronaldo, I presume?”
“Y-yeah that’s me, who is this?”
“This is the I.C.U. Detective Agency, my name ain’t all that important but what is important is why you asked for our services, mind giving me a bit more detail?”
I’m not good at small talk, and I already know what the weather is like, so I cut to the chase. With my free hand I reached for a notepad and pen so I could scribble down any details Ronaldo would mention.
“Yeah so, I don’t know, I feel weird about this but she needs help-”
“Hey buddy slow down, who’s she?” I interrupted.
“Her online tag is ‘TigerxXxBunny’... but her real name is Alice Rodrigues.” He admits, with a bit of reservation.
“Uh-huh,” I jotted down her name and posed my next question “why’d you give me her username? What’s this got to do with the case?”
“Well, she’s an O-OnlyFans model, and a C-camgirl. She was being harassed by some people online, and I think they Doxxed her.”
“Doxxed her?” A term I hadn’t heard before.
“Found her personal information, where she lives and all that.” He explained.
“And how do you know Alice?” I probed.
“We went to highschool together, I’m like a brother to her… she says.” More hesitation.
“So a whore gets treated like a whore and you need my help for that? Look buddy I-”
“IT’S NOT LIKE THAT!!!” He shouts, catching me off guard, taking me completely out of my annoyed tone, shocking me with a personality trait I hadn’t expected.
“Woah- guy, take it ea-” I try to reassure him, but he continues his tirade.
“WHAT DO YOU KNOW HUH!? EVEN IF SHE COULD DO A NORMAL JOB DO YOU THINK THAT MAKES IT EASIER TO BE A WOMAN IN THIS WORLD?! DO YOU THINK SHE’D BE FUCKING SAFE!?”
I pulled the phone a bit further away from my ear, as to not lose my hearing prematurely. I felt like Courtney could hear him through my phone and through my office door.
“A real social justice warrior, this one.” I think to myself, “my own mother wouldn’t give me an earful like this.” I turn my attention back to the receiver.
“LOOK IF YOU DON’T WANT MONEY, IF YOU DON’T WANT A CASE, JUST SAY SO AND I’LL TAKE MATTERS INTO MY OWN HANDS!!!”
I paused, hearing the distress and anguish in his voice. His heavy, labored, but almost rage induced breathing, and I thought “sounds pretty extreme, taking matters into your own hands…”
“Look, I’m sorry,” I start, “I’m on the case.”
“Better to have one case instead of two… or God knows how many…” I begin to think.
On the other line I hear a loud and long sigh.
“Thank you, detective.”
“Sure, sure-” I half heartedly state to him, “So what else can you tell me about Miss Rodrigues here?”
“She’s got Osteoarthritis and Bipolar Disorder. It was hard for her to even attend class in high school. I remember there would be a few weeks where she wouldn’t be around, and then appear for a few days. We lived close together at that time, so I’d go over and help her with her homework. After graduation her condition got worse, she didn’t even try to attend college. Her parents still work though, but she wanted to be independent of their income, and that’s why she started OnlyFans. She was able to move out with the money she made, but after being harassed and her private information leaking, I think she’s in trouble. She hasn’t posted online for a while, but maybe it’s just for her own safety.”
“Uh huh-” I mumble, jotting down all the details and disorders. “And what’s her address?”
“Excuse me?”
“Y’know, where does she live?”
“I don’t feel-”
“Look I can’t investigate if I don’t know where to go, so where does she live?” I press him. I know why he doesn’t want to give out her address, maybe he thinks I’m crooked, maybe he thinks that I ain’t legit, but if he really has no other options, he’ll fold. There’s a pause between our words before Rodolfo speaks up.
“Don’t tell anybody-”
“I won’t…”
“Okay, she lives near the old amusement park, Pleasure Pier-”
“Ironic.” I chime under my breath, low enough so that he wouldn’t hear as I write the address. “Alright Rodolfo, anything else I should know?”
“I- I don’t know if these guys are dangerous. If they have weapons, what they plan to do-”
“Don’t worry about me kid,” I say with a grin no one else can see, “Danger is my middle name. I’ll get to the bottom of this.” I hang up the phone and peer over the notes. A new song is playing on the radio, “I'm gonna take you down, Oh, down, down, down!” I sing while taking a gun from my desk drawer.
“Piece of junk, better trade this in before I forget. Might not even be good for parts.”
I walk out of my office and back into the foyer where Courtney is sitting, diligently doing a book of crossword puzzles along with a dictionary.
“Heading out detective?” She asks without looking up from her puzzles, and a new piece of gum being chomped rhythmically as she concentrates.
I spin the gun around my index finger and catch it by the handle.
“Trading in this piece of crap for something a bit more reliable.”
We both grin as the door opens to the rain, letting in a bit of the humid air, and shuts again.
It’s a short walk to the gun shop, this is Texas after all, and as I walk I begin to think about what kind of weapon, what style of pistol would be ideal in the line of duty. I’m just a small time dick that curiosity couldn’t kill trying to keep up with the boys in blue. Albeit, I might be a little far behind them.
“A 50 Cal Desert Eagle 50AE, one bullet would split the skull and leave an exit wound big as a tennis ball, that’d stop a criminal, definitely. Make the brain look like an active volcano. But I want to stop a man, not paint the block with him.” I think before I enter the store. A soft chime plays as I’m greeted.
“Detective,” the clerk starts, “What can I do ya’for?” The clerk says, eyeing me up and down, noticing the brim of my hat drool a few drops of water he adds, “Hope whatever you brought ain’t rusted shut.” I snort a small laugh,
“It’s fine, these pockets button shut.” I turn to the side, showing him the buttons of my coat, waving my hands as if I’m the woman displaying a prize on a TV game show.
The clerk, Bubba, as long as I’ve known him, knows I’m a rare breed, always looking for something old school, but nothing antique. I don’t need to look at anything on display and he knows it. None of the black barrels, red dot sights or composite wood finishes, I know exactly what I’m here for. Placing my pocket pistol on the counter I say,
“A turn in Revolver, Smith and Wesson 64.”
“Classic!” The Bubba says, gingerly swapping the guns.
“I figured if I can’t hit him in 6 shots I didn’t want to turn’em in at all. Might be smarter to buy a Glock 19, 15 shots, 15 chances, but nah, I like the feel of loading the bullets into the gun, one at a time, deliberately clicking with each turn of the barrel. Keeps me poised, focused.”
Bubba chuckles, shaking his head from side to side, amused by what I’m saying as he opens the chamber to let me examine the barrel. I suppose 15 shots, semi-automatic would be a good idea, but no, something about the number 6. 6 rounds with purpose instead of 10 pot shots and a last ditch effort to fire off 5 effectively. 6 well thought out actions as opposed to 15 ways to waste money. 6 expert moves to checkmate instead of 15 black and red jumps to a king.
“Poised, focused.” I say, almost in a trance, before I close the barrel. “How much do I owe ya?”
“It’s a trade in, that thing in your hand is older than dirt and what you just gave me is more than enough to pay for it. I figure once we get it all cleaned up and ready for resale I might have to write you a check!” Bubba says, sliding towards me a box of ammo as well.
“Well Alright~.” I sing, picking up the box and placing it in my jacket pocket. “ So long.”
“Don’t be a stranger.” He nods as I turn exiting the store and back out into the downpour. It’s only a few blocks back to the office, but now it was time to get started on Rodolfo’s request. I’d get in the car, stake out Alice's location for a few days, and see if I notice anything suspicious, anything or anyone, other than myself that is. Opening the door to my 2015 beige Crown Victoria I sit, close my eyes, and try to mentally prepare for what’s to come. Flashbacks to old cases begin to stir in my mind, some closed, some cold, some forfeit to the police, or the FBI. In particular, there’s one case that still haunts me, sticks with me like white on rice after all this time. It was a dark, clear night, moon high in the sky and I’d found the suspect, leaving a bar, but he’d seen me and fled to an alley. I gave chase when suddenly I heard shots fire, taking my favorite hat right off of the top of my head. Those shots rang out like a drumbeat, all in succession, whizzing this way and that as I found cover behind a dumpster, but at some point they stopped, it was all quiet on the eastern front, and that was my chance, my only opportunity, and his last moments on God’s Green Earth. I darted down the narrow alley, feet tapping faster and faster in workman’s office shoes, practically running on the balls of my feet, running on my toes, flying! I didn’t see him in my headlong 100 meter dash, so I knew he was hiding, but the alley was quickly coming to an end. In a moment I jumped and rolled with my shoulder towards the ground, and in a single motion, turning my body in the air as I kicked back up onto my feet, my back now facing the alley wall, only to see the suspect, face to face, one knee to the ground staring wide-eyed at my acrobatics. I fired- pow, pow-pow! Three shots to the chest. He didn’t live much longer after that. When the paramedics and my standard uniform associates arrived on scene they told me he was wanted for murder, I had done a good thing, sure, but he never got to face trial the family of his victims never got “court justice,” to stare him down and know he’d be locked away, and I never felt good about the outcome of our little song and dance, either.
Rubbing my eyes, with a deep breath and a sigh I open my eyes and exit my memory, turn the key in the ignition and grip the steering wheel tightly with both hands. Through clenched teeth I say, “Let’s do this.”
__________
The Spectacle (Revised)
It had been a few weeks of stalking “TigerxXxBunny” AKA Alice Rodrigues. None of the days were very fruitful. On occasion, I’d see Ronaldo go into her house, sometimes with a camera, sometimes without. On the days they’d leave the window open, I’d use my Parabolic Microphone to try and listen in to what they were saying. More times than not I’d hear the click of the camera shutter, but every once in a while I’d hear them go on about someone called “Big_R.” It didn’t make any sense. For someone being stalked, there was hardly any activity at Alice’s residence. No hooded or masked individuals stalking her in the night, no one other than the occasional delivery man coming by in the day. I was the most suspicious person, but I had a hunch, a hunch I had to find out.
On week 3 of the investigation, I drove to her residence like I usually do, parked my car, and stood outside with sunglasses on. I had a camera hanging from my neck, and I took pictures of the surrounding property. In Alice’s house, curtains that were once opened flashed closed, as quickly as she could move on both levels of the property. I saw Ronaldo open the door, ready to confront whomever she thought was out there, only for him to see me, waving with a coy smile.
He didn’t look happy to see me, that much was certain, but I snapped his picture, got in my car, and drove off, back to the office, with Courtney on break, to see what kind of trouble I had drawn up for myself.
______
No sooner than I could sit down at my desk, Ronaldo stormed into my office. I couldn’t see it but I’m sure he kicked open the door. Within two steps he was at my desk. With one arm he tossed it aside, and with his whole body he picked me up by the collar of my shirt and threw me across the room right back to where this all started, the door. Time stood still as my world literally spun upside down, and crashed. I let out a cry that was inaudible compared to his roaring.
“YOU SONUVABITCH!!! THIS IS ALL YOUR GODDAMNED FAULT AND YOU’RE GOING TO BE THE ONE TO FUCKING FIX IT!!!”
I felt a punt to my stomach that I’m sure could have sent my innards across a football field and into the end zone if my throat weren’t in the way. I passed out, and woke up a few hours later to the maelstrom that was this small room. Broken glass, broken desk toys, misshapen furniture. My coat rack was still in the same place, and so was my coat and hat. Donning the two items I made my way outside and muttered to myself
“I’ll get it all cleaned up on the weekend, maybe ask Kelly to do it…”
I didn’t have the time, I had a date at the rodeo and although I had passed out for a few hours? Maybe minutes, I didn’t check the time, but I was still early for the show.
My date was waiting for me at the gate, a tall, slender black woman with flowing, loose and curly black hair going down past her shoulders and stopping right before her hips. Fit and wearing dungarees and a cowboy hat, she had all the fixings to be the main attraction herself.
“Took yer sweet time city slicker…” She said with a grin.
“But I’m early…” I said adjusting my collar underneath my coat, afraid it may have been torn completely off my neck in the earlier tussle.
“Ah told you to get here at 12:15, it’s 12:30! You should know better than to keep a pretty girl waiting.” She grabbed my hand and we walked into the arena.
“Right.” I said sheepishly, not exactly in the mood to return her flirting.
Finding a seat I waited until the Master of ceremonies began to stir the crowd, and then the show started. Every time the dust settled I tried to think of what I could have done wrong to piss off Ronaldo that goddamn much. Piss him off so much that he could toss me, all 300 and something pounds of me, a smooth fifteen feet across my office like a discarded rag doll. Did I kill his mother? His lover? Did I kill his fucking dog? I had only just started investigating his case so it didn’t make any sense as to why I was all of a sudden, the subject of his ire. And that’s when it hit me. As smoothly as the transition of the acting cowboy, tip toeing onto the bulls skull, right in between its horns, using the force of the animals headbutt to launch himself into the air, swing his noose and lasso the poor animal, then land in a roll and simultaneously pull the bull to the ground, it hit me.
“Someone must be following me, goddamned found me out…”
I looked around the crowd to see if I knew any familiar faces, silhouettes, shadows, but the rip-roaring good times never stopped, and all the high spirits were chipping and waxing away my suspicion and sorrow.
“I’ll get to the bottom of it after I clean the office…” I mumbled under my breath, eyes still set on the spectacle.
__________________
Case Closed
Kelly came to clean the office the following day. I had rearranged my desk and chair so I could at least do some work while Kelly took care of the rest. Kelly didn’t ask any questions, and that’s what I like about her, she’d get the job done, even if I was in the way. Courtney was standing next to me when she blurted out,
“What kind of investigation requires you to make an OnlyFans account?!” She shouted.
“Am I detecting a hint of jealousy?” I joked back.
“It don’t make no sense detective, what kind of lead do you think you’ll get here???”
“I’m trying to find ‘Big R’ or as they described it ‘Big underscore R.’ Emphasizing the underscore means it’s an online username right? And if they’re online anywhere, it’s her OnlyFans account. I’m thinking maybe he’s left a few comments. Maybe we could message him.” I thought my reasoning was sound, but I didn’t want to see the face Courtney was giving me. From the corner of my eye I could see her arms crossed, tapping her feet as I typed with my two index fingers a phony username and password.
“Here we go, ‘NewSimp97,’ would you write this down for me doll? The password is ‘NotAnIncel’ capital ‘N,’ ‘A,’ and capital ‘I.’ “
“Got it, now let’s see those comments.”
“Sure.”
I began gingerly clicking through Alice’s body of work. Photographs, Videos, and advertisements for “Customs” or “Girlfriend Experience.” None of which was appealing to me.
“It’s $5 to send her a message?! Get real girly! Hah!” Courtney laughed as we peaked at her automated message in our new inbox.
“Gotta say, Ronaldo seems like he’s got a talent for photography…” I mutter until I come to a comment from “Big_R.”
“Hold it, I found something-”
“What?” Courtney asked excitedly, peering over my shoulder.
“-When can I make you mine?” The comment read, and in a chain, someone else replied,
“-We all want her dude, don’t try to make her your wife or something, she’s not into you in that way.”
“-But I’ve met her… I know where she lives…”
“-Oh shit?”
“-Dm me.”
“It stops there…” I say to myself, scrolling back to the top of the page, “and there haven’t been any new posts since that discussion.”
“Let’s DM him!” Courtney insisted.
“You think he’ll drop details like that? Really?” I asked with hesitation.
“Wouldn’t hurt to try!” Courtney replies with glee.
“Sure, but what should we say?”
“Ooh! I know!! Lemme see the keyboard!”
I forfeit my chair to Courtney and she began typing a whirlwind of messages. Keys tapping faster than I can think and before I know it, she hits send, and almost instantly it seems like there’s a reply.
“That was fast!” Courtney said with a clap of her hands.
“What does he want?” I asked.
“$500 via cashapp and he’ll meet up with us in person to give us behind the scenes content. And for another $350 her address.”
“$850 and another goddamn app I have to learn…” I say rubbing my forehead with my palm before sliding my hand down my face. “Set it up for me would ya’doll, we’ll go in on this one together. You’ll come with me as a decoy, you meet up with them and I’ll confront them on my own.”
“You don’t think he’ll recognize me?” Courtney asked.
“With what he did to me I feel like he’s got a lot more on his mind. Enough so that your face isn’t the first thing he thinks of when you go to meet him. If he tries to give you the slip, you know what to do.”
With a quick salute Courtney replied,
“You got it boss!” And began her due diligence. In all that time, Kelly had come and gone. Books, paper and other debris all neatly swept and tucked away in their proper place, I didn’t even notice her put the paperweights back on my desk.
“She’s a ninja…” I whispered “I’ll have to pay her double.”
“Hey boss, how does 9PM tonight sound?”
“Music to my ears.” I say without turning to Courtney, keeping the big grin on my face to myself.
We arranged to meet at the Gizmo Bar. There was a parking lot off of 26th street and that’s where I’d corner our guy, “Big R.” Behind the parking lot was a single strip of boardwalk, surrounded by the ocean, so there was nowhere to run. A plan meant to keep his back against the wall or in this case, the water. I parked the car and had Courtney walk to the bar alone. She had her own firearm, a small one, and not one that I approved of but she knew how to use it and has demonstrated that to me on more than one occasion. I was out of the car, a rental car this time, (just in case “Big R” had already seen my everyday vehicle,) waiting in the shadow of the streetlights. My phone buzzed and I knew it was Courtney, telling me they were coming down 26th street, twelve o'clock.
“She’s leading him back to the car, great.” I thought, as the adrenaline began to trickle into my bloodstream. My chest expanding and contracting with my excited breathing, my eyes dilating as I began to go into a kind of trance, a bloodlust, a berserker state, my hands sliding delicately left and right against the butt of my holstered gun as my palms began to sweat. In times like these I wonder if I’ve ever had a cool head, if I was ever able to keep my composure, but the feeling fades just as it always does, and I’m back to the comforting, baseline feeling of cold steel, ice in my veins. I can hear Courtney now as they approach my location.
“And this is my car!” Courtney says excitedly, still in character. That’s the signal, that’s my cue. Without missing a beat I step into the fluorescent light of the lamp and flash my badge,
“Big R,” I say without looking at first, “You’re under arrest for endangering the life and promoting harassment of one Alice Rodrigues.” I lifted my face so I could see who it was
“Loandbehold” I thought.
“You…” he said.
“Ronaldo…” I replied.
Before I could get another word in, Ronaldo took off running, in the direction I thought he would, towards the water.
“Stay here dollface, I’ll get him.” I said to Courtney as I began to chase. We sprinted down Seawall Boulevard until we got to the pier. He made a hard right turn, trying to toss down guard rails and trash cans to impede my steps but it was a simple thing for me to jump over them. Running past the Bubba Gump Shrimp stall, beyond the Merry-Go-Round, he stopped and put his hands up over his head at the teacups ride. I assumed he knew it was this or he’d have to start swimming.
“Alright, you caught me, I give up.” He said, slowly turning 180 degrees to face me, with my gun already drawn.
“Why’d you do it? Why call us if you were the culprit Ronaldo…” I said, staring at him down the sights of my revolver.
“Have you ever been in love, detective? So madly in love that you would do anything in the world to make someone yours?”
“Sounds a bit possessive.” I say, “On your knees” I command, but he doesn’t listen.
“I’ve always loved her, I always wanted to be with her, ever since highschool! But she started doing OnlyFans, it broke my heart, she was a hoe for everyone in the world while I was standing right there! I just wanted her to stop, so we could be together.” Slowly, Ronaldo, as he spoke, began to lower his arms.
“Keep those arms up kid, I’m not gonna tell you again…” I said, bracing my gun in my hands.
“You’re gonna take it all away from me, put me in jail, you might even kill me! Then I’d never see her!!!” He was yelling now, that same person that I first talked to on the phone was here, with that same, rageful labored breath, his shoulders swelling, muscles bulging, as if he were being inflated.
“Kid!!!” but it was too late, Ronaldo was charging at me like some stampeding beast, in a full sprint, probably assuming he could knock me down and get away, but even if he could, that’s where Courtney would come in to back me up.
“Make’em count detective.” I thought to myself, taking a deep breath, waiting for the right moment to pull the trigger.
“POW! POW!” Two shots rang out as Ronaldo fell face first to the ground, a large, primal wail escaping his body as it collided with the boardwalk. Moving quickly, from my coat I pulled out two tourniquets to stop the bleeding. I had shot him just above the knee in both legs, hoping I didn’t accidentally hit his Femoral veins, but in case I did, that's what the tourniquets were for. As he lay there, crying and cursing in a pool of blood he asked through phlegm and tears,
“Am I stupid?”
“Maybe kid, but anyone can commit a crime of passion.”
Before I knew it, Courtney came walking down the boardwalk with a few of the boys in blue, their squad cars were near the entrance to the pier. I explained to them the scenario, showed them my badge, and they took care of the rest, hauling Ronaldo off with them, aiding him with one big baby step by step.
“Hey doll?” I say, asking for Courtney underneath the clear night sky.
“Yes Detective?” She says, just as chipper as ever.
“Let’s go get a drink.”