Derrick Simmons stared at his reflection in the mirror and flexed his muscles. He was getting ready for the two lovelies that promised to stop by. There was a tap at the door. Derrick frantically looked around the room. “I’ll be right there!” he shouted. He found Pam’s panties behind the headboard and threw them under the bed. He opened the door with one hand while holding a towel around his waist with the other.
His eyes widened as he stared into his girlfriend’s face. “Holy shit! I thought that you said that you were going to be hanging out with your aunt all night—”
Two hours later, Isis had her head inside her refrigerator when she got a call from Lt. Stone. A body was found at the motel in Queens that fit the M.O. of her killers. Although it was out of her district, Isis had to go check it out for herself.
When Isis arrived at the scene, it looked like a media circus. There were news vans from all the major news stations. Isis parked her truck next to a van from CNN. “Hey you,” Isis called out to a uniformed officer. “Who’s in charge? Where’s your superior?” Her badge was clipped an inch away from her belt buckle for all to see.
“That’s him there. The tall guy with the white hair.” The police officer said, pointing.
Isis maneuvered her way through the crowd. She approached the big man and tapped him on the arm. The big man turned his head, then he looked down. “Yes, can I help you?”
Isis removed her ID and held it up so that he got a good look at it. “I’m from the Double 0—”
“That’s up in Harlem.”
“Yes, it is—”
“So, what are you doing down here?” the big man asked, cutting Isis off.
“First things first. You know who I am, now, who the hell are you?”
The big man wrinkled his brow. “I’m Captain Doe. John Doe.”
Isis gave him a look as if he was kidding, but then she saw that he wasn’t.
“Okay, Captain John Doe.”
“Captain. Just call me Captain.”
“So, what brings you to my crime scene? Just passing through?” The captain’s cell phone went off before Isis could answer. “Excuse me, Detective.”
Isis nodded her head, then she took a good look at Captain Doe. Isis figured that the man must have weighed around three hundred pounds. He was as large as a refrigerator with enormous hands. Isis looked around. A neon sign that read, ‘The Due Motor Inn,’ was missing the last ‘N.’ Many of the guests were lined up outside the yellow crime scene tape, and there were over a half a dozen detectives with their notepads in their hands taking their statements.
When Captain Doe was done with his phone call, Isis asked, “Who was killed?”
“We think it was Derrick Simmons. He was the son of that actor who won the Academy Award this year, Troy Simmons.”
“You think it was? What does that mean?”
“The body is all taped up. And there was no ID found in the room.”
“What about the motel registry?”
“Yeah, the person used a nickname.
“So, you’ve seen the body?”
Captain Doe stared at Isis for a moment before he said, “In my twenty-four years on the force I have never seen such a thing.” He took a deep breath, exhaled, and continued. “Someone taped his entire body up with duct tape...well, all but his genital area, which the killer removed...balls and all—what’s your interest in this murder, Detective?”
“We had a series of murders up in Harlem. My boss thinks that there might be a connection—”
A murmur from the crowd interrupted Isis. A male uniformed police officer bolted from the entrance of the motel and threw up. Then he did something strange: he ripped off his badge and announced that he was quitting. Every news reporter who had a mic in his or her hand ran toward the police officer. The police officer, with his back against the wall, slowly slid down until his butt was resting on the concrete. He was shaking like crazy. The police officer shouted, “Only the devil could do such a thing!
Isis turned to Captain Doe who said, “He saw the body.”