O' Halloran bursts through the door of the Lieutenants office while the fat man stuffs his fat face with a big fat slice of pizza.
"What the fuck are you bursting in here like that for?!", shouts Lieutenant Kowalski, spitting bits of sausage and cheese all over his messy desk.
"Shut the fuck up, Lieutenant", O' Halloran answers back sharply, "I got a lead on the case."
"O' Halloran, you are so full of shit you make the downstairs toilets look like a display unit in a toilet factory".
"Lieutenant, you're analogies are as shit as a TV talent show judge"
"Oh yeah?! Well, your mother sucks cocks in hell", the Lieutenant shouts back, a vein almost bursting from his fat forehead.
"At least my mother has a cock to suck", retorts O' Halloran as the Lieutenant ponders this detail.
"Ok. What's your big scoop, O' Halloran. I'm a busy man. I've got a whole pizza to eat. Make it snappy".
"I think Jimmy Saville is back in town"
"You mean the kiddy-fiddler guy from the TV show?"
"Erm, …..no, this is a slightly different Jimmy Saville. The one who can't sue us for libel or slander."
The female police officer knocks on the door and hands O' Halloran a sheet of paper.
"Here's all the info we have on Saville, Detective", she says, relishing the amount of fucking time she's managed to wring out of a pointless role.
O' Halloran scans it quickly before handing it to the Lieutenant to read.
"This guy is a fucking psycho", the fat man says as he wipes pizza from his chin, "but why'd you finger him?"
"I haven't had the chance to finger him yet. I only finger those I'm in a meaningful relationship with. But we have an eyewitness who can testify that the bastard drugged her and gained entry to her home, brutally murdered a complete stranger (who happened to have no genitals), then stole shit from her toilet and smeared the wall with the words 'Carla Bruni'"
"Holy shit! Carla Bruni? That is some sick shit. But who is the dead guy, what was he doing in the woman's house, why did Jimmy Saville murder him in the first place and how deep is this woman you talk about involved in all this?", questions the Lieutenant, as he shows his keen sense for detail (and some common fucking sense which seems seriously lacking throughout this story so far).
"I don't know yet. But I've got a hunch"
"Jesus, O Halloran! Don't let your hunch-back guide you"
"Oh, it's not my back, Lieutenant. It's my dick. I think with my dick. And I feel a twingle in it like I haven't felt since I bumped into George Michael in that public restroom. His firm jawline and that designer stubble , the musky scent….."
"This is on your head, O' Halloran, ya hear. I aint signing off on this crazy-ass wild goose chase of yours. All I care about is clearing the board. You can bring in Saville but this better lead to something or your ass is out of here.", the Lieutenant jabs a stubby fat finger at his subordinate.
O' Halloran looks towards his desk where his beloved pet ass, Bilbo Baggins, is tied up. The Lieutenant has never liked him bringing it to work and is always threatening to have the animal removed. Or scarified to his ancient Norse She-God, Doris.
The Lieutenant pushes his swivel chair across the floor to his locker. He opens it and inside is a rail on which hangs a bunch of clichéd characters.
"I'm giving you a clichéd buddy character on this one, O' Halloran."
"I work best alone"
"Like fuck you do! You are the shittiest cop in this entire precinct. I'm giving you a buddy to work secondary on this one. You can still work primary but I don't trust your judgement or fashion sense enough to let you loose on a major case like this without someone else watching your back".
The Lieutenant rummages in amongst the locker and flicks through the selection:
"Hispanic cop; wise-cracking black ghetto cop; suburban single mom cop; kung-fu Asian cop; muscular Russian super-cop…"
He pauses and plucks out a large shiny metallic character and drops it on his desk.
"What's that?", asks O' Halloran in disgust.
"It's a sexy robotic female cop. Take her and get the fuck out of my office, you prick".
"You know what?, fuck you, Lieutenant. Fuck you and the whole fucking department. I'm gonna bring in Saville and solve this case all on my own and then I'm gonna go out and buy another donkey and tie it up right next to your locker", shouts O' Halloran as he storms out angrily, female robotic cop tucked under his arm.
The toilet flushes. O' Halloran wipes his backside.
O' Halloran races out of the department parking lockup in his battered pink caddy.
In the passenger seat sits the sexy female robot cop.
"I'm pleased to be working alongside you, Detective", she says in a singsong sexy voice.
"Listen, robot lady, I don't work with women. Never. Especially sexy robotic ones. So you keep out of my way and just let me get on with my job", O' Halloran snarls as speeds out into the early-morning street.
"Oooh, a male chauvinistic cop with bad attitude! How surprisingly unoriginal yet refreshing in a 1970's/ early '80's retro way", she smirks.
She picks up his coffee stained case file and begins flicking through it.
"Hey! I never said you could…", O' Halloran snatches the folder back from her, almost causing an accident as he swerves in the middle of the road before steadying the vehicle again.
But it's too late. The Robo Female has already memorised and scanned the whole thing.
"If we're going to be a team, Detective, we're going to have to work together".
"I don't do teams. Never! As far as I'm concerned you're just some robotic broad who came through the academy with a little help from a bunch of commi-feminist scientists".
"Is that right! Well at least I didn't the job by simply collecting 1000 coupons from a cereal box competition to become a homicide cop, detective O' Halloran! I've seen your bio".
She's good. Real good. She's done her research better than he'd given her credit for. But O' Halloran ignores her for now, his mind set on solving the case.
A sticky note is taped to the dashboard. On it an address: 1057 Bastard Plaza, Room 101. He has a date with this mysterious Jimmy Saville character.