common as they come. His name is
Malcolm Block. His reputation is that of your average well-dressed
hood. The female assault victims looked like they might’ve been
attempted rapes, but they couldn’t be proven. Turns out he’d
dated them a few days or weeks prior.”
“ So
you do think he was going to rape me?”
“ Hey,
Andy. Is this her?” someone asked.
“ Yeah,
Jonesy, this is her,” Roberts answered. “Ms. Jameson,
this is Detective Perry Jones.” Roberts gestured to the
balding, plain-looking gentleman who'd crept up behind her, hands on
his hips. A pair of weak prescription glasses rested low on the
bridge of his nose.
“ Hi,”
Jones said with a placid smile.
“ He’s
been my partner on occasion,” Roberts said. “But he won’t be anymore if I find out he’s
the one who did this obsessive-compulsive redecoration.”
Roberts cocked back in his pneumatic chair and poised a finger over
the desk blotter. “What's with all the right angles? And what
did you use on here, Windex? I thought you were on extended vacation
for the past two weeks, not maid school.”
Jones's
pupils danced on the rim of his glasses. “Sorry, I didn’t
know you were so attached to your little pig sty. I don’t know
how you got any work done in that trash heap.”
“Oh,
I see, Mr. Man of the Hour doesn't approve of my workspace anymore so
I'm the one who has to change. You letting all that super-cop stuff
go to your head .”
“Yeah ,
to you I'm super-cop. To everyone else I'm the cop who went rat-squad
on his fellow uniforms.”
Glenda
looked puzzled for a moment and Roberts noticed. “Detective
Jones here was a major player in bringing some of our wayward
colleagues to justice recently,” he said to her. “If you
know what I mean.”
She
nodded.
Jones
hummed and glanced down at Glenda. “So you’re the one who
put that hurting on the old Block-head, huh? He’s not a very
happy camper, right now. The guys down in lockup have been riding him
about it all day. At first, they thought he’d been in a bar
fight or something. But we sort of passed it around that he got beat
up by a girl.”
Glenda
said nothing, just hoped Jones wasn't looking for a smile.
“ Block-head?”
Roberts inquired. “You know this guy?”
“ His
name came up a couple times when I was working the case, after I
started investigating Bonanno; mostly freelance.”
Roberts
sat up straight.
“ I’ve
got to tell you,” Jones said to Glenda, “I’ve seen
a lot of women who were victims of this sort of thing. The ones who
fight back usually don’t score a knockout. I’m glad you
weren’t seriously hurt.”
“ Thank
you.” Glenda said.
“ You’re
welcome.” Jones turned to leave.
“ Whoa,
hey, the state attorney's office called here twice today, looking for
you. Cosgrove said you hadn't returned her calls.”
Jones
rolled his eyes, looking thoughtful. “Ah, sorry, guess I hadn’t
checked my watch.” He then looked back at Glenda. “Oh,
and don’t worry about old Block-head. We’ll squeeze it
out of him. He’s not that smart.”
Glenda’s
forehead wrinkled at Jones’s fading back. “'Squeeze it
out of him’?” she asked Roberts.
“ He
hasn’t said a word since we brought him in,” he answered.
“We’re still not sure what he was doing there.”
“ It
seems pretty obvious to me; he wanted to take what any woman with
half a brain would never give him willingly. I told you what he
said.”
“ Yes,
I was getting to that before. You see, we found something, a...uh semen sample on the front of his
pants.” Roberts was never very good at mincing words.
Glenda
squirmed. “Ew, ugh.”
“ We
also found a fresh sample on the floor of your closet where he
apparently hid. Now what makes it curious is that it's just not
likely that a man who was about to commit a rape would...take care of
business single-handedly and then commit the crime. It would be
rather self-defeating, to say the least.”
“ Maybe
it
Malcolm Block. His reputation is that of your average well-dressed
hood. The female assault victims looked like they might’ve been
attempted rapes, but they couldn’t be proven. Turns out he’d
dated them a few days or weeks prior.”
“ So
you do think he was going to rape me?”
“ Hey,
Andy. Is this her?” someone asked.
“ Yeah,
Jonesy, this is her,” Roberts answered. “Ms. Jameson,
this is Detective Perry Jones.” Roberts gestured to the
balding, plain-looking gentleman who'd crept up behind her, hands on
his hips. A pair of weak prescription glasses rested low on the
bridge of his nose.
“ Hi,”
Jones said with a placid smile.
“ He’s
been my partner on occasion,” Roberts said. “But he won’t be anymore if I find out he’s
the one who did this obsessive-compulsive redecoration.”
Roberts cocked back in his pneumatic chair and poised a finger over
the desk blotter. “What's with all the right angles? And what
did you use on here, Windex? I thought you were on extended vacation
for the past two weeks, not maid school.”
Jones's
pupils danced on the rim of his glasses. “Sorry, I didn’t
know you were so attached to your little pig sty. I don’t know
how you got any work done in that trash heap.”
“Oh,
I see, Mr. Man of the Hour doesn't approve of my workspace anymore so
I'm the one who has to change. You letting all that super-cop stuff
go to your head .”
“Yeah ,
to you I'm super-cop. To everyone else I'm the cop who went rat-squad
on his fellow uniforms.”
Glenda
looked puzzled for a moment and Roberts noticed. “Detective
Jones here was a major player in bringing some of our wayward
colleagues to justice recently,” he said to her. “If you
know what I mean.”
She
nodded.
Jones
hummed and glanced down at Glenda. “So you’re the one who
put that hurting on the old Block-head, huh? He’s not a very
happy camper, right now. The guys down in lockup have been riding him
about it all day. At first, they thought he’d been in a bar
fight or something. But we sort of passed it around that he got beat
up by a girl.”
Glenda
said nothing, just hoped Jones wasn't looking for a smile.
“ Block-head?”
Roberts inquired. “You know this guy?”
“ His
name came up a couple times when I was working the case, after I
started investigating Bonanno; mostly freelance.”
Roberts
sat up straight.
“ I’ve
got to tell you,” Jones said to Glenda, “I’ve seen
a lot of women who were victims of this sort of thing. The ones who
fight back usually don’t score a knockout. I’m glad you
weren’t seriously hurt.”
“ Thank
you.” Glenda said.
“ You’re
welcome.” Jones turned to leave.
“ Whoa,
hey, the state attorney's office called here twice today, looking for
you. Cosgrove said you hadn't returned her calls.”
Jones
rolled his eyes, looking thoughtful. “Ah, sorry, guess I hadn’t
checked my watch.” He then looked back at Glenda. “Oh,
and don’t worry about old Block-head. We’ll squeeze it
out of him. He’s not that smart.”
Glenda’s
forehead wrinkled at Jones’s fading back. “'Squeeze it
out of him’?” she asked Roberts.
“ He
hasn’t said a word since we brought him in,” he answered.
“We’re still not sure what he was doing there.”
“ It
seems pretty obvious to me; he wanted to take what any woman with
half a brain would never give him willingly. I told you what he
said.”
“ Yes,
I was getting to that before. You see, we found something, a...uh semen sample on the front of his
pants.” Roberts was never very good at mincing words.
Glenda
squirmed. “Ew, ugh.”
“ We
also found a fresh sample on the floor of your closet where he
apparently hid. Now what makes it curious is that it's just not
likely that a man who was about to commit a rape would...take care of
business single-handedly and then commit the crime. It would be
rather self-defeating, to say the least.”
“ Maybe
it
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