Beyond the Shadow of a Detective

"Detective Jones," A voice begins, a male's voice.

I look up.

"Sergeant Ross needs you in his office now." He finishes, his voice dripping with venom. It wasn't easy being the only female detective on the team, and it definitely won't get any easier.

I stand up and fix my pantsuit. I smooth out the wrinkles, and I start making my way to his office. The other detectives in the Gangster Squad here in LA are rude; they don't appreciate a woman being here on their team. They think I'm way in over my paygrade, but it's actually quite the opposite. I worked plenty of homicides in the past and I've solved plenty of cases.

I exhale.

It's now or never...

I knock on the door, and Sergeant Ross's voice calls out "Come in!"

I walk in and he looks up at me, pulling a cigarette out of his pack. "Sit down Jones." He demands, lighting his cigarette.

I do as I'm told, and I sit down in the seat across from Ross. Ross is an older man, about 50ish, with graying black hair. He flicks his lighter shut, and he takes a drag off of his cigarette, exhaling the smoke.

He sighs and looks over to me. "The reason I called you in here, is because we have a lead on where Giona Milano is." He says looking at me.

Giona Milano.. 'The Serpent' I look at him, keeping a stoic face. Am I scared? Yes. Giona Milano is called the Serpent because he's venomous. Once your in his grasp, you'll be found dead. He tends to kill with venom, and he's like a snake. That's why his nickname is 'the Serpent'.

"The Serpent, sir? They finally have a lead on him?" I ask, getting a nod from Sergeant Ross. Sergeant Ross offers me a cigarette, in which I take it. Surprisingly, people aren't rude to me, even though I'm a black lady. Most people outside of the department are though, and they just like to poke fun at me.

"Milano thought it would be a great idea to host a party, strict with who they let in. You will be there." He says flicking some of the cigarette ashes into the ashtray. "Detective Dixon will be accompanying you to the party. Dixon is going to be a mobster, you'll be his wife. Be careful, and more importantly get him back here alive. The party is a few days from now." He finishes, before putting his cigarette back into his mouth. He takes a drag, and looks at me expectantly.

I put the cigarette in between my lips, and I pull out my matchbook. I light the match and I stick the flame to my cigarette, lighting it. "Why didn't I find out about this sooner?" I ask looking at him.

"We had to get it set up first Jones. Plus, you're the only detective that is Milano's type." He replies.

"Sir, I don't have a good feeling about this. What if it's a trap?" I ask, trying to brush off the sinking feeling in my stomach. The kind of feeling that doesn't make me want lunch.

"Jones that doesn't matter right now. All that matters is getting him back alive, so we can try him, and lock him up. Maybe he'll even get the death penalty. Here's the invitation, and your name." He hands me an envelope and he takes another drag off of his cigarette. He blows out the smoke before speaking. "You can go ahead and read it Janice."

I nod, and I put my own cigarette in my mouth. I open the envelope and I see the name Josephine Johnson, and the name Zane Johnson. I see the date, and the time and place that this party is happening. It occurs this Saturday, it's currently Tuesday, so thankfully it is days away, so I can prepare.

It's a masquerade. Ah.. clever

"Do we have to buy the outfits, or are they provided?" I ask, my eyes meeting Sergeant Ross's eyes.

"Dixon said he was going to take care of it, if you tell him what size you wear." He replies, flicking the ashes into the ashtray.

What the? Why is he getting our outfits?

I nod, knowing I shouldn't ask too many questions. I take a drag off of my cigarette, holding it in for a few seconds, waiting for the sergeant to say something else rather than it depending on me. I blow out the smoke, looking at the desk in front of me.

"Your released Jones, get to work on this case." He finally says, putting the cigarette butt into the ashtray.

I stand up and head for the door, cigarette still in my mouth. I start heading for my desk. It's better that I research him more, so that way I can not only find out more about him, but also find out how to maintain both Issac and myself's cover.

The next few hours I get every newspaper I can about Milano. I scoured every library, and archives here at the police station and in LA, and so far, I've found about four newspapers just mentioning him. He's really unknown through the media, newspaper wise, but on the television he is really known. I spend that time studying Milano, what he likes, what he is like... Etc.. You get the point.

He seems, racist.

I guess it makes sense, considering this is LA for cryin' out loud. Ross's words keep ringing through my head, that I'm Milano's type. I don't see how, considering that he's mainly seen with these hyperactive, white, blonde girls. Though, I guess I don't really know, could be a cover up, with segregation being so strong here and all.

I finally leave the last library, and I get into my Mercury Eight, a 1940 model, and I start driving back to the police station.

Through the traffic, it took a while, roughly two hours and I was finally back at the station. I need to find Detective Dixon an see when he's ordering our clown suits for this party.

I walk into the station, coffee cup in hand, sipping on it as I go back to my desk. It's a metal desk, with several cases on it that I've been handed following murders of some people that went cold. We just couldn't find the suspect needed for it. For example, there's a woman's file in this pile, named Anne-Laure Michelle Dupont. She's a French woman who was found dead in her inn that she was staying in. She was visiting LA, then went missing a few days after she was supposed to go home. The inn workers came back to clean the room that Friday. That's some of the notes I've collected on her, and what they've given me.

"Have you seen Dixon?"  I ask one of the secretaries. She looks up at me from her paperwork.

"Yeah, he should be at his desk." She replies, glancing back down at the papers on her desk. They were all scattered across the table, and she fixed them neatly as I turned to walk away.

I walk over to the stairwell, leading to Detective Dixon's desk, and he glances up at me.

"Oh, Jones, hey. Did the sergeant fill you in on what we're doing?" He asks, looking at me.

"Yeah, he did, and he told me that you wanted my size?"

"I did." He replies, and stubs out his cigarette in his ashtray  sitting on his desk.

"And why do you need my size?" I walk over to him, and I pick up one of the files laying on his desk.

"I figured I could find a zoot suit to match what I'm going to be wearing." He shrugs, and takes the other file. "This is also all of my research on the Serpent that I've collected over the past few years. I just need you to remember that this is my case, Jones, and your just helping me out. If you try and take it over or you slip up I will have you taken on the case. And I will get you terminated." He starts to take out photographs of the Serpent that they have gotten lately, along with notes, and the picture of the informant. It looks as if he got arrested, this is his mugshot sitting right in front of me. I pick up the notes that Dixon took and I start to shuffle through them.

"How could I forget?" I ask, and glance sideways at him.

Dixon just shrugs, and pulls his suit pants up so he can sit easier. Soon after he starts sifting though the case files for anything that can help us.

"Have you done any research on our perp?" He asks, and picks up a pen. I look over at him, and I start to grab my notepad.

"Yeah, I've done quite a lot of research actually." I reply, and I glance to him, flipping to a page in my notepad.

"Let me see." He holds his hand out, expectantly. I pass it over to him with no argument. As he finally grips the notepad, he starts to flip through it, skimming over my notes that I've taken in the little time of being on the case. I look down at the case file that I tucked away under my arm. "There's barely anything in here." He throws my notepad on his desk.

"Yeah, because I just got assigned to the case..." I pause, and glance at my wrist for the time "...a few hours ago, so of course I don't have much compared to the five years you've had this case open." I snap, and I open the file to skim through it myself. I don't know what I'm getting myself into. This is far more dangerous than working with the rest of the other gangsters I've been assigned to arrest before. But I guess that they believe Milano wouldn't suspect two cops in his party, let alone a female cop. Although a little exhilarating, it's also quite a bit scary.

Like what if I don't come home? What if he tries to do something to me, far too brutal for me to even comprehend or think of at this very moment. I sit on the corner of his desk, the silence is deafening since I snapped at him. There wasn't many people here to begin with so it was already quiet, but after I said my piece he shut his mouth.

I adjust on the desk, and I glance at some photographs taken of him. I don't know what to expect. I mean looking at him, it was journalists taking the pictures of Milano. Men on either side of him, nice suits, fedoras, assault rifles on a strap on their back. It almost doesn't seem real, but it is. I flip the picture over and I see a date scrawled into the back. On the back, the date is written sloppily in pen 6/24/42.