The Twins

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Chapter Two

Detective Isis Williams rubbed the knuckles on her right hand as one of her comrades held her back. A young rookie detective staggered to his feet.

“You crazy bitch, you broke my nose!” the rookie shouted.

Isis glared at the young fool. ” The next time you’ll think twice,” she said as she tried to take another swing at the rookie.

“Isis take it easy, he’s had enough,” her comrade whispered in her ear. Isis pulled away from her fellow officer and angrily marched toward the restroom.

Isis slammed the door behind her. She gripped the sides of the sink with both hands and shook it. She stopped when a piece of plaster fell to the floor. Today, the sink at the Double 0 precinct in Harlem took the brunt of the detective’s anger. Someone had talked the young rookie into doing something foolish. He’d taped a tampon that had been dipped in ketchup on to her locker. She had caught him in the act. Isis knew most of her male counterparts were jealous of her success within the department.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror, which had a long crack running down the middle of it. The crack was from her last outburst. As Detective Williams stared at her reflection, her mother’s voice invaded her mind: you can’t let them get to you, baby. Isis ran her hand through her short, platinum afro. She’d been suspended twice for striking a fellow officer. Isis sat down on the banged-up toilet seat; another inanimate object that took the brunt of her anger. She placed her hands over her face; emotions started to rise from deep within her. Isis took a deep breath, I won’t cry. Not here. Indeed, Isis often cried when she’d been hurt, but she would never do so in front of her comrades.

Detective Williams has been on the force for fourteen years. Her arrest and convictions remained the highest that the department had seen in the last twenty years. Some say that she was obsessed with being a detective--it was true. Isis swallowed hard, stood up, and stared at her reflection again. She thought about her anger management counselor and what he would say about her loss of control. Or her shrink, Dr. Wilcock. She’s going to kill me, Isis thought.

Today was not starting off right for the detective. Aside from what had happened in the locker room, she would be getting a new partner today--something she dreaded. A psychotic woman had killed her last partner: his wife. The woman thought that Isis and her husband were having an affair, which they were. Isis had dropped her partner off in front of his apartment building after they’d had sex at the Lincoln Tunnel Hotel in North Bergen, New Jersey. Her partner had promised his wife that he would take her out to a nice restaurant that evening. His wife had other plans for Isis’ lover.

As soon as he stepped out of Isis’ Durango, the wife burst out of their apartment building brandishing one of his guns. She’d fired the weapon striking her husband in the face. She’d then pointed the weapon at Isis and pulled the trigger, but the gun misfired. With the quickness of a gunslinger, Isis freed her Glock and squeezed off two rounds. One of the bullets tore through the woman’s left eye, and the other hit her in the throat. She died four hours later at Mount Sinai Hospital. The boys at 1 P.P. (1 Police Plaza) deemed the shooting justified.

Isis did not want a new partner. Not today, not ever. But her mentor, boss, and friend, Lt. Leroy Stone, insisted that it was time.

Isis started chewing on the inside of her bottom lip as she stared at her reflection. A habit that she’d picked up fourteen years ago, after her mother had died. ” Isis are you all right in there?” someone called out from the other side of the door.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Isis stared at the rust colored water stain that had formed around the drain. She turned on the faucet and waited for the water to clear up. She placed her hands under the faucet, and then she splashed the water onto her face. She reached for the towel dispenser but it was empty. Isis pulled out her shirt tail and wiped off her hands; then she passed her hands over her face. She stared at her reflection again and tried to smile. It looked as if she was in pain. Isis opened the door and marched out of the restroom. She didn’t speak to anyone as she headed towards the exit of the Double 0 precinct.

Detective Andrew S. Taylor pulled his BMW into the parking area of the Double 0 precinct. Today was his first day as a homicide detective. He gripped the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles had turned white. “Ffuckk!” he shouted at himself. “You’re such an asshole!” Taylor shook the steering wheel as he cursed himself.

Taylor was forced to transfer out of the 7-5 in East New York, Brooklyn. The hookers in the neighborhood all signed a petition to have the detective removed from the precinct. They promised to march at the big house--One Police Plaza--if their demands weren’t met. The hookers demands were met and Taylor was moved The last thing in the world that Taylor wanted to be was a cop, but coming from a family of cops, he had no choice. As Taylor sat inside his vehicle, fuming.

Taylor removed his keys from the ignition and cursed at himself again. Then he stepped out of his BMW. The detective was deep in thought when he bumped into the pretty lady.

“Hey, watch where the hell you’re goin’ fool!” the angry lady shouted.

“I’m sooo sorry, please forgive me.”

“Whatcha need is a freakin’ seeing eye dog.”

“I said I was sorry, lady.”

“Fuck your sorry, asshole,” the pretty lady said as she wiped the hot coffee off her blouse.

“Well fuck you too,” he said.

The lady shot him a killer look. “What did you say?”

“You heard what I said.” Although the woman was upset, Taylor could not get over how beautiful she was. Even when angered, she seemed to ooze sex appeal.

“I’m out of here,” Taylor said as he flung open the door to the Double 0.

“You better go, creep,” she grumbled as she took a swing at the air.

Taylor stopped in front of a large desk that sat on a platform. He had to look up at the sergeant who sat behind it. “Detective Andrew Taylor reporting for duty.”

The desk sergeant looked down at the detective and said, “One moment, Detective.” As Detective Taylor waited, he’d thought about the lady he’d just had an argument with.

Pretty, but mean.

“Detective Taylor,” the sergeant called out. The desk sergeant’s voice brought the detective out of his day dream.

“Yes, sir.”

“You are to report to Lt. Stone’s office on the third floor,” the sergeant muttered and pointed toward the stairwell without looking at the detective.


Detective Taylor tapped on Lt. Leroy Stone’s door. The lieutenant sat behind a mahogany desk. He had been on the phone when Taylor arrived. Lt. Stone was a big man. He stood at six feet one and weighed about three hundred pounds. His head was bald, and he sported a thick goatee.

He had Detective Taylor’s file in front of him. Stone waved him in. “Have a seat, I’ll be with you in a second.” Taylor nervously sat down in a small wing chair that was positioned in front of the lieutenant’s desk. Is that my file? Taylor thought. Of course, stupid…

Lt. Stone hung up the phone and stared at the detective. He knows, Taylor thought as he shifted nervously from one butt cheek to the other in the small wing chair.

“So, you spent all of your career at the 7-5 in Brooklyn?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Four years, huh?” Lt. Stone stared with curiosity at Taylor, who was dressed in a fifteen-hundred-dollar suit. The detective was thirty-five years old, but he could easily pass for twenty-five.

“Yes sir. Four years.”

“It says here that you put in for a transfer.”

“Yes, sir.”

Lt. Stone closed Taylor’s file and stared at the detective again. “So, you’re looking for a change?”

Taylor was relieved that the incident with the hookers seemed to be omitted from his file. He’d shifted in his seat again. I hate this job, and I wanna fucking quit. “Yes sir, a change is what I’m looking for.”

“Well, a change is what you’re going to get. I’m going to partner you up with the best female…well, she’s the best damn detective in the city.”

“Female, sir?” Taylor asked.

“Yes, detective, a female. Do you have a problem with that?”

“No sir,” Taylor replied.

“Good.” At that moment, there was a tap on the door. The pretty woman he’d encountered earlier before entered. “Isis, come on in,” Stone said. Isis looked at Taylor, who’d jumped to his feet when the detective walked into Stone’s office.

“Oh hell no, this can’t be him.” Isis turned toward Lt. Stone. “Sir, tell me this is not my new partner...please.”

“I’m not working with this crazy lady,” Taylor said as he stared at Detective Williams.

Isis’ fingers were balled into a fist.

“This asshole made me spill hot coffee all over myself. I could’ve burnt my nipples off.”

“Children behave,” Stone said as he tried to hold down his laughter. He shook his head, and then he got serious,” Listen, you two are going to be working with each other and I want you to play nice.” Lt. Stone was looking directly at Isis. “Do you understand me, young lady?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Sit down, both of you.” The detectives did as they were told. Just then Stone’s landline began to ring. He picked it up, then he began to search for a pen. Isis found one under Taylor’s file and gave it to her boss. The lieutenant took it and began to write. He hung up the phone and handed the piece of paper to Isis. “We got one, Wagner project. The M.E. is already at the scene. The shit is nasty.” Stone said.

Isis jumped out of her seat and took the piece of paper from Lt. Stone’s hand.

“I’m on it sir,” Isis said as she and her new partner headed for the door.

“Isis!” Stone called out.

“Yes, sir?”

“Heard what happened down in locker room this morning.”

Isis looked at the ground. She had no comment.

“Don’t worry about it. I was told that the little prick deserved it.”

“Yes, sir, he did.”

Stone smiled at his favorite detective and waved her out of his office.

Taylor followed Isis as she marched down the path that led to the stairwell. She stopped by her desk. She picked up a 5x8 picture frame. The picture was that of her an older lady. Isis kissed the photo, then picked up another small picture frame. The photograph was that of a teenage girl. Isis kissed that one too. The picture of a smiling, middle-aged woman was not picked up and kissed. Isis just stared at the picture for a few seconds, then she sighed. “C’mon, dude, let’s go.”

Outside, Isis said, “We’re using my ride, and we’ll always use my ride, got that?”

“Yeah, whatever,” Taylor said as he hopped inside Isis’ Durango. Isis placed her key into the ignition and started her jeep. The Durango came to life and took off towards the crime scene.

Detective Williams, who was originally from Far-Rockaway Queens, loved Harlem. The feel, the sounds of this new Harlem was a turn-on for the detective. Gone are the days of the street hustler. Harlem was more diverse now, and with this new diversity--in population--comes new money, and new money always brings new problems.

“Look, man I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you earlier, but I was having a bad day,” Isis said to her new partner.

Taylor did not respond. He stared at the people on the street as Isis’ Durango sped towards the crime scene.

“I said I was sorry, dude.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Isis hit the brakes on her vehicle, and Taylor’s whole body launched forward. “Look, dude, if we gonna be partners we’re gonna have to be civil to one another, like it or not.”

“What the hell are you doing? Are you crazy?” he said. Motorist began honking their horns.

“Now, I said that I was sorry.”

“O.K. I accept your apology. Now can we get moving?” Taylor was staring at his new partner like she was crazy.

“And if we’re gonna be partners, we’re gonna have to be straight with each other. We can’t bullshit one another. You got my back and I got yours...” Isis paused and stared at her new partner.” Just don’t lie to me, or do anything stupid to embarrass me and we’ll be O.K., you got that?”

Taylor nodded his head, “Yeah, I got that.”

“Oh, and one more thing. Fasten your damn seat belt, dude.” Isis parked her jeep behind a CSI van. She looked over at Taylor. He’s cute, Isis thought.

Taylor had sandy brown hair that was freshly cut. He was slim and stood at five feet ten inches tall. Isis figured that he was about one hundred and fifty pounds and that they were about the same age. Taylor had no facial hair which made him even more attractive. He looks exactly like Tom Brady. But I will never get involved with a fellow officer again, she thought as she switched off the ignition and removed the key. “You ready, dude? Earth to Taylor…earth to Taylor, come in, Taylor.”

Taylor whipped his head in Isis’s direction. “I’m sorry, did you say something?”

“Where’s your head, dude? Get with it. It’s detective time.”

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