"You brought O' Halloran into the case?! Are you fucking crazy???!!!"
Lieutenant Kowalski is close to exploding as he slams his fist on the desk, sending pieces of cheeseburger spilling across the floor. Robo female cop has just informed her boss about O' Halloran and he's pissed. Well, he was pissed before she told him - he always liked to down a bottle or three of bourbon before starting the day - but he was annoyed as hell at the news.
"With respect, Lieutenant, I thought I was in charge of this case", she stands up for herself.
She's got him there. The Liuuetenant had given her this case and told her to do it her way. She'd proved herself over the past few years. Become a real pro. Solved most of her cases and even chipped in on some of the other's too. A rising star in the department. She was even asked to perform a strip tease for the Chief of police at his annual Christmas bukkake party last year. It made the Lieutenant slightly jealous: it was he who usually flashed his bits for the top brass at those events.
"I hope you know what you're doing using this asshole. He's a major liability. He'll fuck you up against the wall and then ask for more. He'll eat your breakfast, leave the refrigerator door open, forget to send you Valentine's Day cards and never leave the toilet seat down when he's finished. The bastard!"
"I know what I'm dong, Lieutenant. I'm a big girl".
He waves her out of the room. He knows she's made her decision and he's got to stick by it.
Waiting outside is O' Halloran.
"How'd it go?" he asks anxiously, hands tucked deep in his pockets - more pocket pool, methinks!.
"He took it as well as can be expected", she answers.
"I bet he brought up the whole Valentine's card thing, didn't he? He never forgave me for that…and fucking him against the wall…."
Both of them walk out to the lobby and past the heavy bulk doors leading to the garage.
After a few paces, O' Halloran stops dead in his tracks.
"My pink Cadillac..", he beams as he walks towards the vehicle parked in front.
"I had it repainted and fixed up just the way you liked it", the robo female cop says following him.
"I loved this car. This is the car I first made love to a fellow officer in…her name was Betty ands she was built like a trucker…I clearly remember the way her five-o-clock shadow brushed against my face…Thanks you, robo female cop"
"I'm glad you like it, O' Halloran"
"Like it? I love it!!!"
He celebrates with a quick wank against the side of the car. A christening of sorts. Why is he wanking so much in this story? I'm sure it only happened once or twice in PsychoTown. Ahh well, on with the tale…
Next stop the beauty salon. O' Halloran will need a makeover to make him appear like a real genuine all-American hobo.
The little bell on top of the door jingles as O' Halloran and robo female cop enter. A short stocky woman with pink hair greets them.
"What'll it be, hun?"
"My partner here needs to look like a bum", robo female says as she surveys the contents of the store: wigs - lots of wigs; fairy wings; false teeth; comedy hats; gimp suits with vibrator attachments. Shit, this place has the works!
The woman looks O' Halloran up and down, carefully taking visual measurements of his vital statistics like the old pro that she it - not that I'm inferring that she's an old prostitute, it's just that she could be. I'm just saying. It happens. Old prostitute finds work drying up (and other things) then turns to the beauty store business. Happens every day in every town in every country on every planet throughout the Universe.
"I wanna blend in with all the smelly, homeless folk who live in cardboard city", instructs O Halloran.
"What's wrong with what you're wearing now, hun? ", asks the pink haired lady.
"This is scruffy seventies cop wear, baby. I wanna go for something more.."
"Shitty?", interrupts the lady.
"You got it, sweetcheeks!"
"Lemme see what I got for you", she says as she looks inside a big bag of shitty clothes, "Try this on".
* * *
O' Halloran and robo female cop emerge from the store: O' Halloran now sporting a fake moustache glued over his own moustache and a fake Groucho Marks-style nose and glasses. His 'Frankie Say Relax' t-shirt has been replaced with a lumberjack shirt. On his head he wears a tattered trilby.
"Let's solve this motherfucker, baby!", O' Haloran says rubbing his hands together excitedly.
They get into the pink Cadillac and head Northwards towards the Central Mission where inside waits hungry, homeless men and women waiting for middle-class busy-bodies with way too much time on their hands to feed them badly cooked shit for lunch.
O' Halloran stops robo female by the door.
"I think I should do this alone. They see me with a cop you'll blow my cover. I gotta blend in, remember? Wait for me by the car and I'll get back to you in 10 minutes", he says.
She understands and leaves.
O' Halloran walks inside the atrium and goes into the main dining hall. Rows and ows of cheap metal tables and chairs coated in 1970's era faux leather line the room. O' Halloran sits down next to an old timer in a baseball cap - what the old timer was doing in the baseball cap or how it managed to fit inside where question's O' halloran didn't ask.
"Rough day", says the old timer.
"Yep "O' Halloran nods.
"You new around here?"
"Yes. I'm a brand new hobo in town. Just passing through. Heading to a hobo convention out of state".
"You smell funny".
O' Halloran sniffs his pants. Waddaya know! He must've shit his pants on the way over.
The old timer taps hi on the shoulder and leans in.
"Don't worry, bub. Happens to the best of us. In fact my pants are so full of shit I can barely stand up", the old man chuckles as he reveals his bulbous crotch area.
O' Halloran pats the shit-loaded bump and laughs it away. He then starts inquiring about the disappearances.
"I heard people go missing around here. Is there any truth in the matter?"
The old timer shuffles uncomfortably. Maybe it's the question that leaves him uneasy; maybe it's the shit trapped between his thighs - who knows.
"People have gone. Some of 'em were friends of mine. Little Jimmy, Short Jimmy, Fat Jimmy, Red haired Jimmy…gone, the lot of 'em. Vanished into thin air".
"Yep. Some say the Devil got 'em. If I was you I'd best be staying away from these here parts especially after dark".
The old timer's eyes glare at O' Halloran.
And then he shits. Loudly.
"Well, that's enough shitting in the pants for one day. Be seeing ya, Detectiver", he chuckles before rising slowly and making his way over to the public restroom.
"Detective? How'd you know?", O' Halloran asks perplexed.
The Old timer turns back and whispers in O' Halloran's ear:
"I'm your Daddy, son"
"Papa? Is it really you?"
"Yep. Word of advice, son: bums have smelly bums. You wanna play hobo then ya gotta make sure to shit in your pants. Be seeing ya", he waves farewell as he leaves the story...I mean, 'the adventure'.
O' Halloran returns to robo female who waits in the car.
"Get anything?", she asks.
"Yeah. I found my long-lost father"
"Hey! That was a stroke of luck"
She sniffs the air.
"Is that shit I smell?"
"Daddy's advice. And it worked. I got some good intel from another hobo inside".
"Hang on. You got some 'good intel'? How?The readers never read that..."
"It's ok. Its just an old trick used in cop shows from TV. Saves time on filming extra scenes. What basically happened was I shit my pants and the smell attracted a tall hobo in a dirty coat. He told me to go to apartment 105 on the corner of Henderson Avenue and ask for a Mr. Big"
"And this all happened without the reader getting to read about it in real time?", she asks surprised.
"Yeah. It's a lead. C'mon, let's quit yabbering and lets investigate, sugar tits".
The car wheels squeal as the Cadillac tears off towards a purely fictitious location in a purely fictitious city.
A Shadowy figure steps out of the, erm, shadows and watches as the duo drive off.
Dear readers, please feel free to insert your own evil music here from a CD or MP3. Make sure it sounds really eeeevil to reflect the eeeevil mystery of this mysterious (and quite possibly) eeevil character...