Of course she would help the dumb lug. Roy was the only person on the entire rig who called her Gabby. She had never told him to call her that, he had just done it on his own, probably to loosen her generosity…or maybe he thought it sounded nice. It was an okay thing to call her, never her first choice, but it was the best she was going to get around here. Everyone else knew her as “Heimi”. How clever, her last name being Sondheim and all. Exceptional work, really – both lazy and cruel. Heimi struck her as a good name for a three-legged dog, which she suspected was the point. She could not deny that it was apt. The thought of Roy finding respectable employment pinched at her. Gabriella doubted that she would be able to find another hustler who was both willing and able. Most of the little turds demanded double fees from Gabriella, making her promise she wouldn’t arrest their buddies or fine them for working unlicensed and of course, after all their requirements had been met, none of them could follow through with the deed. It had been a piece of luck meeting Roy at all, and she had the power to keep him where he was, to deny him advancement until she had finished with him. Maybe she would buy out his contract from Hennessey and move Big Roy into her own place where he would clean the dishes and fix the showerhead and she could make him walk around without pants so she could touch him whenever she liked and when she was tired from a long day he would perform jumping jacks to lull her to sleep with the metronomic rhythm of his swaying horsecock. He could placed her on his shoulders and carry her so she wouldn’t have to walk and the prosthetic wouldn’t chafe at her hip until the skin bled. Jesus! She stopped and fidgeted with the leg - the padding was worn down to the plastic, so there wasn’t much to be done out there in the hallway. She kept moving, limping badly. Gabriella’s head ached when she thought about the ridiculous task she had promised her dim gigolo - first she had to find out who the hell this Lou Parsons was, see if he was legit or not, then she would probably have to walk across the whole damn platform just to tell the S.O.B. that Big Roy Stubbs, so dumb and so sweet, wanted to finally earn an honest living. The whole thing was shifty and diagonal and it put her in a crummy state of mind. Maybe, she wondered, maybe down the road when she really needed to, she could meet up with Roy for old time’s sake. Lord knows, he was going to owe her for this. By the time Gabby made it to her office blood had soaked through her uniform, making a large splotch above the hip. She was nearly done cleaning the wound when the red light flashed on the console - an emergency communication, probably one of her idiot deputies had gotten lost in the catacombs again. She hit the button and the frightened voice of Deputy Jenkins squawked through speaker.
“Dead body! Dead body!”
They never used the codes. Gabby decided she’d better get the kid under control before anything else. “Excuse me, who is speaking?”
“What?!”
“Whom am I speaking with?”
“Uh…Chief, it’s Jenkins. Corey Jenkins, you’re deputy!” There was a concerned silence. “This is Chief Sondheim, right?”
“It is, hello, Jenkins. You’re reporting a five eight one?”
“Huh?”
Gabby sighed. “You have a homicide?”
“Yeah! Gory as hell, too!”
“Are you in danger?”
“Uh…no....”
“Where are you?”
“Deck seventeen, section B, below the pumps. Room four.”
“Is there anyone else with you?”
“Valancik is standing guard at the door.”
That was something at least. “I’ll be down in a hurry. And Jenkins, while you wait, why don’t you and Deputy Valancik memorize your codes.”
“Sure, Chief. Chief? Better bring a barf bag.”
Valerie stuffed extra padding into the cup of her false leg and headed to her first official crime scene.
Part 1 is here! https://steemit.com/story/@senderos/god-s-only-mistake-part-1
Copyright 2016, Daniel Capuzzi