Series: SHAKING UP THE PRECINCT
Our apologies for such an obscene lag time between this story and the last one!!! This is what countless assignments and a huge I-search paper can do to high school/collegiate fanfic writers!!! We hope this piece was worth the long wait!!! Short, but sweet.
NOTE: This takes place immediately after "The Vultures Lie In Wait."
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"My God!" Detective Ray Vecchio could not believe what had happened to the body on Mort Gustafson's slab.
"Is zere a problem, Ray?" Mort asked the lanky Italian.
"What do you mean, is there a problem?" Ray asked. "Take a look here, Mort. I'm not sure if you noticed, but this guy's balls were bitten off by something that wasn't human. Not only that, there's a big chunk taken out of the guy's neck. His throat, to be exact. There's also bite marks all over this guy in places that make me cringe just thinking about it."
"So do you zink it was an animal?" Mort asked.
"Well, I just said that the biting was done by someone who wasn't human."
"A pit bull?"
"No way. I've seen pit bull victims before, and they look nothing like this."
"Zen vat vas it?"
"Beats the hell out of me."
"Not a bad idea," said Detective Elizabeth Walker as she entered the morgue. She paled at the sight of the body on the slab. "What happened to this guy?"
"He was bitten to death."
"I can see that, Vecchio. What I meant was, who or what did the biting?"
"All I can say is this--it was no pit bull."
"Then what the hell was it? A wolf?"
"If it was, then Diefenbaker would be in big trouble."
"Where was the body found?"
"At zee zoo," said Mort.
"Which one?" Walker asked. "Brookfield or Lincoln Park?"
"Lincoln Park."
"Where?"
"In zee birdhouse."
"Isn't this my case?" asked Ray.
"Fine, refuse a little help." Walker hustled out of the morgue.
"What's going on?" asked Mort.
"With Walker, who the hell knows?"
-----
Detective Stanley Kowalski was looking at a file on his desk, wondering how the hell such a crime could have been pulled off. Since Ray's partner, Detective Allie Mitchell, was in New York reluctantly attending the funeral of her father, he and Ray were working on the mauled-body case.
A quick succession of knocks made him jump. When Stanley looked up, he saw his fourteen-year-old daughter, Rachael, looking down at him. She was dressed in a pair of baggy jeans and a tie-dyed shirt. "Hey, Dad," she said.
"Hey, hon," Stanley said as he stood up and hugged his only daughter, planting a kiss on her forehead. "How's things?"
"They're okay, I guess," said Rachael. "I didn't get that job I applied for, though."
"Do you have a work permit?" asked Stanley.
"A what?"
"A work permit," said Stanley. "You see, there's your problem. Since you're only fourteen, you need a work permit to get a job. Or you could have a legal guardian or parent accompany you at work."
"The only way I could do that is to become a cop," said Rachael. "And I need to be at least eighteen or twenty-one."
"Not true," said Walker, who had just entered the bullpen from the morgue. "You could become a Civilian Aid here. Are you good with computers and files?"
"Yeah," said Rachael.
"Hey," said Stanley, "did we ever find a replacement for Francesca?
"Who the hell is Francesca?" Walker asked.
"Ray's sister. Used to be Civilian Aid here, but she left to join the National Guard."
"Cool," said Rachael.
"You want to talk to Lieutenant Welsh about it?" Walker asked.
"Something the matter, Walker?" asked Stanley.
"No, why?"
"You didn't call Welsh 'Hardass Harding'."
"I only call him that when I feel like it, and I don't feel like it today." Walker looked straight at the lieutenant's office. "You want me to see if he's busy?"
Stanley shrugged. "Go ahead."
Walker made her way over to Welsh's door, where she banged on it in rapid-fire succession.
"Come in!"
Walker opened the door and strode into the office with Stanley in tow. "You busy?"
"No."
"Care to have a word with me?"
"Shoot."
"Okay." Stan took in a deep breath before speaking. "I heard that you have not yet found a replacement for Ray's sister."
"No, we haven't." Welsh looked up from his paperwork. "Don't even think about it, Walker."
"What?"
"Never mind."
"What?" asked Walker. "All I was going to say is that I think Stan's daughter could maybe fill in, at least until she goes back to school."
"Does she have a work permit?"
"No, but her father works here. That would be me." Stanley emphasized the last word.
"It's legal, isn't it?" Walker asked.
"Yes, it is," said Welsh. "I am concerned, however, about how well you two would work together."
"We'll keep it professional," said Stanley. The remark made Walker chuckle.
"Something funny, Walker?"
"Sorry." Walker took a deep breath and looked at Stanley. "You made it sound like you and Rachael were going out."
"Do you want me to kick you in the head?"
"Try it. I'll mop the floor with your ass."
"Hey!" Welsh had no problem making himself heard. "Save the fighting words for the ring."
"Sorry," Stanley and Walker said in unison.
"Bring your daughter in here."
"Yes, sir." Stanley walked over to the lieutenant's door and stuck his head out into the bullpen. "Rachael! Get in here!"
Rachael was at the door in a heartbeat. "Yeah?"
"Come in." Welsh motioned for her to enter. "We have a few questions for you."
"The body was not my handiwork," said Rachael as she walked into the office, followed by Ray, Huey, and Dewey. "Vecchio put me up to it."
"What?"
"Little humor."
"Okay." Welsh took a deep breath and continued. "I heard through the grapevine that you were interested in becoming a Civilian Aid."
"Is there a position available?" Rachael asked.
"Yes. Do you think you're qualified?"
"I believe so."
"How fast can you type?" Ray asked.
"Eighty words a minute."
"How organized are you?" asked Walker.
"Kidding."
"Can you stay alert for long periods of time?" asked Huey.
"Yes."
"Can you do the Watusi?" asked Dewey.
"What the hell is the Watusi?" Rachael asked.
"See, she's not qualified," said Dewey.
"Watch it or I'll Watusi all over your head," said Stanley.
"Hey!" Everyone shut up as Welsh's voice rang through the office.
"Moving on," said Walker, "can you work full- or part-time?"
"Full-time till school starts, then I'll have to work part-time."
"How well do you know computers?" Stanley asked.
"Pretty well. I'm not a world class hacker, but I have the Net more
or less wrapped around my little finger."
"Do you prefer original recipe or extra-crispy?" Dewey asked.
"Hey Tom, how about a serious question?" asked Ray.
"That was a serious question," said Dewey. "If Rachael is working late,
I'm going to have to know what kind of chicken she likes so she doesn't
die of starvation while she's working."
"We'll drive off that bridge when we come to it," said Welsh.
"Can you endure late shifts?" Huey asked.
"Yes."
"How late?"
"As late as it takes."
"How's your stress level?" Welsh asked.
"Not too high," said Rachael.
"What came first, the chicken or the egg?" Dewey asked.
"Depends on how you look at it. Could be either one."
"If a tree falls in the forest and no one's around, does it make a sound?"
"No."
"And if it hits a mime, does anyone care?"
"Tom, enough already!" said Welsh.
"Yes, sir." Dewey shut up.
"Can you put up with other people's stupid questions?" asked Ray.
"Yes, as you have seen with Dewey."
"I don't know what you're thinking, Lieutenant," said Ray, "but I think
Rachael is good to go."
"Yeah, considering Dewey gets on everyone's nerves," said Walker. "If
Rachael didn't snap now, I don't think she will in the future."
"OK, Rachael," said Welsh, "I think the position of Civilian Aid has
been filled."
"Cool."
"When can you start?"
"How about tomorrow?"
"Let's give you two days."
-----
Two days later, Rachael came into the bullpen, ready for work. Instead
of the usual hippie wear she wore, she was sporting the uniform of the
27th Precinct Civilian Aid.
"Hi, Rachael." Detective Allie Mitchell was seated at her desk, back
from New York. "Nice suit."
"Thanks."
"When did Welsh hire you?"
"While you were gone."
"Ah." Mitchell turned to her files. "Okay, Rachael, how about I give
you a little practice, with a perk at the end."
"I'm listening."
Mitchell reached into the paper bag on her desk and pulled out a chocolate-glazed
donut. "You can have this if you can look up the files on the Atchison
brothers in less than three minutes."
Two minutes later, Rachael had the results flashing on Mitchell's screen
and was munching on the donut.
"Damn." Mitchell was speechless. "I'm impressed."
"Hey, Rachael!" Dewey called.
Rachael turned to Mitchell. "Here I go. Thanks for the donut." She
darted off to Dewey's desk.
THE END
Copyright 2000 by Amaroq Wolf and Black Magic Woman
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