Part 7 - THE CONCLUSION
Psychotown Police Station - Morning
O' Halloran kicks down the door of the station and marches inside closely followed by the sultry figure of Detective Suicide Jones in her fashionable low-cut, halter neck top which reveals her pert, bouncing breasts and just the slightest glimpse of erect, pink nipple.
"Where's the Chief?", O' Halloran barks.
This comes as quite a surprise to the other officers - O' Halloran had never before displayed the ability to communicate in dog language.
After he wags his tail and offers them his paw, they point to a storeroom near the rear (ooo-err!).
O' Halloran knocks hard.
"Chief? Open up. I know who the Stamp killer is".
The door opens slightly, letting in a chink of light (Chinese light being thin enough to fit inside).
"Whats all this ruckus about?", the Chief growls through the opening.
Detective Suicide comes forward and holds aloft the handful of love notes from O' Halloran's house.
"Pip is the killer. Pip is the infamous Stamp Killer".
Something unexpected happens. The Chief doesn't seem at all surprised by the pronouncement. In fact, it is as if the news that one of his own officers is a crazy killer doesn't rattle him at all.
"Jesus, Chief. Whats the deal? You don't seem bothered by this?". O' Halloran shakes his head.
It is only then that the Chief pushes back the door fully to reveal who else is inside the storeroom with him - Pip.
They are semi-naked and wrapped around each other. The Chief's kiss-mark stained collar matches Pip's shade of lipstick - fire engine red.
Stunned, O' Halloran and Detective Suicide are lost for words and struggle to make sense of it all.
The Chief explains.
"Pip and I are lovers. But that is not the real story. There is much more to this tale than meets the eye. This whole story involves the entire future of humanity and some other shit connected to the bastard Royal family".
Both he and Pip step outside the storeroom and pull up some chairs, then relax by the police station fireside and regale the investigating officers with their tale.
"O' Halloran, you have known me for several months as Pip - the gentlemanly police officer who traveled through time from the Victorian era so that he could become your partner". Pip pauses and exhales a plume of thick smoke from his pipe.
O' Halloran nods. "That is all true".
"But 'Pip' is not my real name. I am in actual fact Prince Albert Victor, the Duke of Clarence and effeminate grandson of Queen Victoria."
There is stunned silence in the room. Nobody expected to hear this sort of random shite. But nevertheless, they are intrigued about where this leads.
Pip rises and leans against the fireplace, resting his elbow on the wooden mantle and taps the ashes from his pipe into the roaring log fire.
"You may have heard of the series of atrocities in the Whitechapel area of London in the Autumn of 1888. They would go down in history as the doings of Jack the Ripper."
O' Halloran nods. "I've heard of the man."
Pip shakes his pipe. "Woman", he corrects.
"What the fuck?". O' Halloran is aghast. I have no idea what a 'ghast' is but I do know that it is the description I have chosen to use to describe his reaction here.
"Yes. it is true. Jack the Ripper was actually a Jill the Ripper. And her name was...Queen Victoria"
"Holy fucking cockshit". Detective Suicide is stunned.
Pip is helped into his smoking jacket by the Chief and begins to walk around the room in a camp manner.
"My dear, beloved grandmother was a frustrated old windbag. She always wanted to be a prostitute but her life took a different path and she became Queen. She took out her frustrations on those poor women because she was a fucking crazy old lady".
O' Halloran puts on his pants. He had forgotten to do this in his sudden haste to leave this morning.
"So, if this Queen Victoria character was the killer then why wasn't she apprehended. Surely nobody is above the law?"
"Au contraire, O' Halloran", Pip tut-tuts, "you would be surprised how crafty and influential a member of the royal family can be. The Royal household and government hushed up the entire matter and created the myth of a crazy madman being behind the murders.
But they didn't count on the letters she had written..."
"The letters?", O' Halloran queries.
"Yes, O' Halloran. The mocking letters my grandmother sent to the police and newspapers. She wrote them and sent them for her own sick pleasure."
Detective Suicide Jones makes the connection. "And those letters were all stamped....with Penny Black stamps bearing the image of a fifteen-year-old Queen Victoria"
O' Halloran is still struggling to makes sense of this bizarre plotline (a bit like the readers of this story, I presume).
"Ok, So I get the whole Queen Victoria killing women thing, but what I don't understand is what it has to do with the murders you committed recently, Pip".
Pip takes another puff on his pipe, then continues with the story.
"A group of people in these modern-day times discovered the secret identity of the Ripper. Those people needed to be eliminated."
"How did they find out the secret?", Detective Suicide asks.
The Chief cuts in.
"They were all renting apartments and houses that once belonged to the Royal family in the bygone days. The walls of these homes were covered in Penny Black stamps - the Royal family, then as is still the case now, were a pack of greedy, hoarding bastards.
They coated their premises in stamps for safe-keeping, then forgot about them through the ages. Because they are bastards".
He turns to Pip. "Present company excepted".
Pip sits back down and pokes a log in the fire with the end of his long pipe.
"The people renting these buildings found all these Penny Black stamps on their walls and began to sell them on Internet bidding websites. Penny Black stamps are worth a fortune nowadays.
The authorities would grow suspicious and start investigating, delving deeper into the origins of these stamps and where they came from. We could not allow such a vast amount of these stamps to come on the market (ooo-er!) all at once."
"We?", asks Detective Suicide.
The Chief points across the room. "Down the hall and first door on the right".
"No, I didn't mean that kind of 'wee'", she frowns.
Pip understands what she meant.
"'We' being a reference to the Royal family. A time machine was constructed to allow just one member of the Royal family to travel through time and stop this dealing in Penny Black stamps. I was chosen becasue I was a disgrace to the family becasue of my obvious homosexual tendencies and the fact that I was just the correct size to fit in the time machine Mr. HG Wells had built".
O' Halloran scratches the back of his neck.
"So you came to Psychotown and posed as a cop, eh?"
"Yes. I made acquaintance with The Chief and explained what my mission was. At first he was unwilling but he accepted reluctantly when he realised that the precious dignity of the Royal Family was at stake".
The Chief shrugs his shoulders. "My great-grandmother was from Blackpool. I've got English blood in me - literally. Me and Pip became passionate lovers."
Detective Suicide unbuttons several buttons on her shirt so that she reveals more cleavage. This has nothing to do with the plot but it just seems the kind of randomly sexy thing she would do at this time.
"So what now?", she asks.
O' Halloran springs up and slaps his cuffs on Pip.
"We arrest him, thats what."
"Take those handcuffs off my boyfriend!", the Chief orders.
"That man's a cold blooded killer, Chief. I don't care about your relationship to him. He's goin' down for life for this".
Pip hangs his head low.
"I knew it would come to this...eventually. What I did was wrong but I did it not for myself, but for God and Country....well, for my grandmother Queen Victoria, but it's all the same really..."
Something in Pip's speech stirs a feeling of empathy for O' Halloran.
He knows he killed several innocent people, but Pip was his friend, and the Chief's lover and he had good intentions at heart - the protection of his family's reputation.
O' Halloran unclasps the cuffs.
"You're letting me go?", Pip seems surprised.
"I'm letting you off this time with a warning. But I want you to promise not to kill anyone else over this stupid stamp thing. Promise?".
Pip hugs O' Halloran tightly.
"Thank you, O' Halloran. Thank you, thank you, Thank you! You've made me the happiest time-traveller since Michael J Fox returned to 1985 at the end of Back to Future and discovered that Doc was still alive!"
"I love that film", O' Halloran smiles, "and I love you too, Pip, despite your psychopathic tendencies"
With all this love in the room, Detective Suicide wipes a tear from her eye.
"I suppose this case is closed now", she says.
"Reckon so", O' Halloran replies.
"Well, I guess I'll be leaving now. I'm probably needed elsewhere to work some other case...", she begins to walk away.
O' Halloran calls out to her.
He rushes up to her and grabs her tightly.
"Stay, baby. We could work together, you and me and then make sweet love by the moonlight when we get home from a hard day's shift".
"Do you mean that, o' Halloran? Really?"
O' Halloran turns back towards the Chief.
"Yeah?, O' Halloran, you old motherfucker you"
"Waddaya say you make Detective Suicide Jones my permanent love interest and replacement for Pip?"
The Chief nods his head in agreement.
"It's a deal, O' Halloran. You get the girl, I get the time-travelling Royal Family serial killer".
They shake on it - handshake, that is, not 'shake' as in wobble.
All the other police officers in the building (who have remained surprisingly silent during this entire sequence) cheer and toss their hats in the air like those dickheads do when they on graduation day in Universities.
"Hooray for O' Halloran. Hooray for the greatest crime solving detective in the hole of Psychotown", they sing (camply)
O' Halloran pulls Detective Suicide close, real close, and they French kiss. Tongues are doing things that people would never have previously believed tongues could do.
But before our tale ends with a fairytale finale, something queer happens (oo-er!).
By complete accident, O' Halloran brushes against the ring pull on the dynamite vest Detective Suicide is wearing beneath her blouse.
"Oh, fuck!", she cries.
"What is it?", O Halloran yelps.
"I'm gonna blow!", she screams.
"Steady on, baby. I haven't even unzipped my pants yet..."
"Not that kind of blow, O' Halloran! I mean the explosive kind!".
"Holy cabbage crap!!!!", O' Halloran's eyes widen in horror as the realization of what he has just done sinks in to his teeny, tiny brain.
Detective Suicide Jones waves at him as she back away towards the window.
"Farewell, O' Halloran. It was fun while it lasted."
Then she drops backwards and disappears out the window. A second later there is a thunderous boom and the glass shatters, sending debris everywhere.
"Nooooooooooo!!!!!!!!", O' Halloran bellows.
The Chief grips O' Halloran by the shoulders and drags him back.
"It's too late, O' Halloran. She's....gone...."
As a tattered piece of her underwear flutters downwards and lands on his head, O' Halloran sobs bitterly.
"Oh, God. Oh no. Not again. Why, God, why? Why doe you take everything I love dearly in this life?
You take my donkey and then you take my future lover and polcie partner!
Damn you, God. Curse you all to hell!!!"
He blows his nose in her underwear and is consoled by all the police officers around him. Some tell him to cheer up. others tell him to get on with his life.
As if it was that easy to continue with life after you have seen your loved one blown to bits mere seconds earlier.
But it is the Chief who has the only reasonable comforting words for him:
"O' Halloran, at least she went out with a bang. For a suicidal detective she died as she always intended leave this earth".
And it's true, ya know. The Chief is right. The Chief is always right. Think of that time he told O' Halloran not to adopt that orphaned panda from China. Think of all the money he saved in bamboo importation costs and taxes.
As that camera rises above the station, leaving O' Halloran and the little group behind, an eerie silence descends across the city of Psychotown (Why it is called Psychotown when it is in actual fact a city, we may never know), a falcon swoops down through the sky.
As it soars upwards in an arc, it passes in front of the Sun (the orange thing in the sky, not that shite comic paper)and squawks.
Then it does a shit.
Sums it all up really.
For isn't this story shit?
I leave you, dear reader, to decide its fate.
THE WRITER OF THIS STORY WOULD LIKE TO THANK THE CITIZENS OF COCKSEND FOR ALLOWING HIM TO SUE THEIR BEAUTIFUL PENIS-SHAPED TOWN DURING THE MAKING OF THIS STORY.
THE WRITER 'WOULD' LIKE TO THANK THEM, BUT HE WON'T - BECAUSE THEY WERE COMPLETELY UNHELPFUL AND RUDE.