Cottage Cheese and Green Onions

He heard music in his dream, something that sounded an awful lot like 'woke up, fell out of bed, dragged a comb across my head, found my way downstairs and drank a cup, and looking up I noticed I was late...' and felt a little confused. Why was Paul singing in the middle of a dream?

'Or...am I dreaming?'

Then he smelled coffee, heard someone walking around - and his eyes popped open.

"Adairs. Beer. Too much fuckin' Lone Star."

"You got that right, Slick."

He recognized the voice and bolted upright. "Where the fuck am I?"

"You really don't remember?" Sawyer said, stepping out of the shower, drying off with a towel.

He looked at her breasts and shook his head. "No. Did I have fun, at least?"

"The first two times were fun, John. The third time was surreal."

"Ah-h. I remember now."

"Do you? Good."

"You're really very sweet, you know?"

"Sweet? I've been called a lot of shit, but never sweet," she said as she came to the bed and lay beside him. "Think you could use some coffee?"

"Maybe, but I think I need a little more you."

"I like the way that sounds," she said. "What'd you have in mind?"

"I'm still hungry."

"Ah."

So was she, as it happened.

+++++

She watched the man park his Mercedes and look around, then he got out and walk into the adult bookstore. She followed him in, watched him look around the videotapes for a while, then walk back into the arcade - to one of the booths. He loitered outside of one - and then turned and looked at her when she walked into area. He nodded towards the booth and she smiled, walked over to him and followed him inside.

'Good,' she said to herself. 'No glory hole.' She let him fondle her breasts, slip a finger inside for a while, then she went down on him, taking him to the edge then pulling back.

"Take your clothes off," he growled. "I wanna fuck you up the ass."

"Ooh, yeah baby." She pulled off her panties and stuffed them in his mouth, then took a stocking out of her book bag and tied it off, then came up to his face. "Do it hard, baby. Like really rough, real deep. Hurt me, okay? And when you're gonna cum tap me on the shoulder 'cause, like, I want it in my mouth. Can you do that for me? Please?"

He was wild-eyed, almost desperate now, so she took him in her mouth again and got him slick, then turned around, presenting herself to him.

And he was rough about it too, which only made her anger blossom into something new - and far more dangerous than he expected. She'd meant this to be something like a recon, hadn't planned on doing anyone today, but the way he was trying to hurt her? No...she was going to enjoy this one.

When he tapped her on the shoulder she pulled free and turned to face his need, but she was slow about it now, kept him from the edge while she dug her fingernails into the backs of his thighs, getting him used to the prickly sensation. Then she found a vein and slipped the syringe in while she bit the tip of his cock, and he came in her mouth while she pushed the plunger on the syringe.

It took about thirty seconds, then he put his hands out to steady himself and she helped him down into the slimy fiberglass seat. "You feeling a little light-headed? A little woozy?"

He couldn't have spoken even if he wasn't gagged, but when she pulled up the knife and held it up to his eyes she felt the fear in him. She unbuttoned his shirt and felt for the base of his sternum, then stepped back and got to work.

+++++

They had just stepped back into CID when the intercom blared: "Anyone down there?"

"Yup," Dickinson said.

"Got another signal one signal thirteen combo. Is Sawyer down there yet?"

"Yeah. Give me the address. We'll take it."

He wrote down the particulars while Sawyer listened, then she spoke up to the intercom: "Can you ask the patrolman on scene if there's a container of cottage cheese anywhere near the victim?"

"Standby one."

"You don't think?" he said. "Not this soon?"

"I have a bad feeling about this one, John. I think she's pissed off at the world. I think she's just getting started, too."

"You there?" dispatch asked.

"Yup."

"That's ten four. A pint cup with a silver spoon in it."

"Okay, notify the WC and roll a crime scene van to that location, get some patrol cars in the area to stop any female on foot, and checking dumpsters for things that could used as a disguise."

"Ten four."

She turned to him. "Know where that place is?"

"Out on Harry Hines, near Royal, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Out by all the titty bars."

"Think she could be a dancer?"

"Hell, who the fuck knows. And let's not call her a 'she' just yet, okay? Lot of chili-packers on their knees in those places...know what I mean, Jellybean?"

He nodded his head as he picked up his briefcase, then they walked down to the parking lot and checked in route, and she made him drive again while she thought out loud...

"I think we need to tell the media, get all the pervs to wake up, stop taking chances."

"Wouldn't do much good. That's not exactly a risk-aversive population, ya know? I mean, who the hell sucks anonymous dick with that new virus out there?"

She shrugged, frowned: "Maybe if she knows we're on her six she'll cool it, ya know?"

"So, you think it's a girl?"

"Yup, I do. And I think she comes from money, and she's probably smart, too. Or at least she thinks she is."

"Settling old scores?"

Another shrug. "Who knows. That, or she could be doing it for the kicks. Too soon to build a psych profile."

"The crucifix incisions?"

"Let's see if she repeats. I'm looking for anger, I guess, but the whole cottage thing's got me stumped. Why take the time to do that?"

"Tell us she's not in a hurry?"

"Yeah, but why?"

"Because she thinks she's smarter than us?"

"Bingo," Sawyer said. "Either she's really fuckin' smart or she's insecure as shit, wants us to think she's really fuckin' smart. If that's the case she'll slip up, make a mistake."

"And if she's really fuckin' smart?"

"It's her game. She'll think it through, stop when we get too close."

He could see a half dozen patrol cars ahead, their reds & blues flashing in the late afternoon glare and, as they got closer he could see the ME's van - and a WFAA Channel 8 news van - all parked on the north side of the white brick building. A crime scene van pulled in just before they did, and after he parked they went inside the bookstore.

"Why do all these places smell the same?" Sawyer said as they walked into the video arcade.

"Cum and disinfectant," a bald headed patrolman said, down on his knees with a Mag-Lite, shining it on the floor at a really odd angle.

"Eddie?" Dickinson said, clearly pleased to see the man. Paul Edward McCarley had been, a few years back, his FTO, and it looked like he had a new rookie in-tow this evening, as well.

McCarley turned, saw Dickinson and smiled. "I heard you were wearing a suit now. How's it goin', Amigo?"

"Interesting. What do you have down there?"

"Maybe a print, but it's in a puddle of splooge. As long as no one stepped in here before we got here, I think we can get some good photos, maybe with a ruler for scale, maybe get lucky and get a size."

One of the CSU techs stooped down and looked at the smeared print with McCarley's light and nodded. "Yeah. I see it too. Looks like a Adidas tennis shoe, something like a Stan Smith. You know, the one with all the round nubs?"

"Slick," Sawyer asked, "can you put that out on the air?"

"Yup."

"Any idea how long ago this went down?" Sawyer asked.

"Not long," McCarley said. "He's still warm, blood hadn't coagulated when we got here, it was still running like crazy."

"Where's the container, the cottage cheese?"

"It's still on the seat," Eddie said. "Got an evidence bag?"

"As soon as you're clear I want the techs to take it straight to their refrigerator, then right to the lab. Can you tell much about the wound?"

"Big cruciform pattern, sternum to groin. Why?"

"We had one last night, down by Oak Lawn, same MO, same cottage cheese thing too."

McCarley sat up and looked at her then, his face registering recognition now. "Fuck-a-doodle-do," he whispered.

"That's what John said, too."

"We got us a serial. Fuck. Anything else I need to know?"

"I'll give you the number for our original report; you'll need to write it up referencing that."

"Shit. Is that why the news is out there?"

"Doubtful. Nothing about that one made the news. Or it hasn't, not yet, anyway. Better give me your number too; I'll have John write up a supplement for your report."

Dickinson walked up carrying a Canon F-1N with an 85 1.2L on the nose. "I loaded some Tri-X, set the ASA to 800," he said, handing the camera to the tech.

"Eddie?" Perry Goodman, the CSU tech asked. "Get that light down low again. I'll try for a few from that angle, then let's put a tape down for scale."

"Right. Man, it's tight in here," McCarley said, laying on the floor, wiping sweat from his forehead. "John, can you get my rookie, have them turn on the AC back here; it's getting ripe - and so am I."

Dickinson turned to McCarley's rookie, told him not to come back 'til the AC was spitting snow from the vents, then bent in to look at the victim in the booth. The man looked to be about fifty, and there was a Rolex visible on the man's wrist.

So, robbery not a motive?

"See anything?" Sawyer asked.

"Rolex," he said - as Goodman started clicking away with the Canon.

She grunted. "Figures. Too easy to trace, no way to pawn one without leaving a trail a mile long."

"There's a syringe cap down here, under the seat," McCarley said.

"What?" Dickinson and Sawyer said - at the same time.

"One of those orange syringe caps. You know, the thing they pull off before they stick you in the butt?"

"Ridged," Goodman said. "No prints. Besides, maybe a diabetic shot up with insulin in here, you know, like before he had his Big Jack Attack?"

"Yeah?" Sawyer rejoined. "And maybe our perp stuck him with something so he wouldn't scream."

"Good point," Goodman said.

"Bad pun."

"Hey, at least you got it."

"A three year old could get that one, Perry."

The rookie came back, trailing a very scared looking girl, and Dickinson looked at her. 'Uh-oh,' he said to himself. "What you got there, Patterson?"

"Witness," the rookie said, and Sawyer turned and looked at the girl.

"Oh? What did you see, Ma'am?"

"The girl who came out of there. And I've seen her before."

+++++

Her name was Sam, Samantha Bigger, and she rode down to central in the back of their Crown Vic - with the promise that they take her home after she swore out a statement. They took her into an interrogation room, but only because it was quieter there than just about any other place in the building - and Sawyer didn't want any distractions.

"Okay Sam, can you tell me when you got to the bookstore?"

"I guess it was around three, maybe a little before."

"And where were you. When you saw all this?"

"Do I have to, you know, like say all that?"

"Yes, Sam, but nothing you say in here will be held against you, alright?"

The girl looked around, tried to ignore her feelings. "I go there, sometimes, ya know. I can make a hundred bucks in an hour, you know what I mean?"

"Doing what?" Dickinson asked. He was pissed because on a good day he made a hundred bucks.

"That's okay, Sam. You don't need to answer that."

"Yeah, okay."

"I do need to know where you were, what you were doing when you saw her."

"I was in a cabin across the aisle, waiting for a, well, a customer."

"And what did you see?"

"Well, this girl comes out. She had a book bag with her, which I thought was kinda weird, then she walked off - like she was in a hurry."

"Tell me about the bag, like maybe what color it was."

"Blue, with red trim, and it had an SMU thingy on it, like a patch, or a decal."

"What was she wearing? Could you see her well enough?"

"Oh, yeah. Jeans, a dark green polo shirt and maybe white shoes."

"How about her hair?"

"Yeah, well, that's what I don't get. Last time I saw her she had brown hair cut real short, but today her hair was blond. Long, and blond."

"And you're sure you recognized her? What was it you saw that makes you think that?"

"Her eyes, man. I saw her eyes."

"Do you think she saw you? I mean, well enough so that she knew you saw her?"

Sam nodded her head. "Yeah. She saw me."

"Where have you seen her before?"

"That's the thing...I'm not sure, but I think it was over by SMU, at the old movie theatre across Hillcrest. Maybe she worked there, like behind the candy counter?"

"You said she walked away quickly. Was she scared?"

"No. She came out and looked around real fast, and that's when she looked at me. Then she just took off."

"Did she run?"

"No, more like a fast walk."

"Then what did you do?"

"I went and looked inside the cabin, saw the guy on the floor and ran up front, got the guy behind the cash register."

"So, almost no time between the time you saw her leave and the time it took you to got up front to report it?" Dickinson said.

She nodded her head. "Yeah. That's right."

"And you're sure you don't remember where you've seen her before?"

"No. I sure wish I did, but I don't."

He watched as she looked down and to the left when she answered that one, sure now she was lying - and not sure how to handle it. He looked at Sawyer, who just looked at him and winked. She knew, too...so why wasn't she intervening?

"Well," Sawyer said, "I guess we'll take you home now."

"Great."

"Say," she added, "you think there's any way she might have remembered your face too? Like, she might try to find you now?"

Sam's eyes darted away, then down to the floor, but still she didn't say anything.

'Bingo...' Dickinson sighed. 'She's scared.'

+++++

She sat in the Mustang, breathing hard after she detoured around all the cop cars, then she turned on the engine and flipped on the AC, let the air cool before aiming the vents at her face. She'd dumped the wig in a dumpster and put on some sunglasses, and now she focused on getting her breath under control - yet she felt alive, more exhilarated than she ever had in her life.

"God! What a rush!" she cried, then she slipped the car into gear and drove off slowly, thinking about what she needed to do about Sam.

She'd been making LSD since her junior year at SMU, when one of her TAs in an organic chem lab taught her class how, and she'd been selling the crap ever since. Even in the little house she'd bought with the proceeds, her first priority had been to set up a small lab in one of the bedrooms, and she still cranked out 5-6 thousand bucks worth of the stuff every week. Three weeks work paid for a year of med school, too! Like...duh!

And Sam was one of her oldest clients, wasn't she?

Had she talked?

Well, she decided, she couldn't leave that to chance, so she'd have to pay her a visit. She drove over to Haskell and passed under Central, and she stopped to use a payphone at a 7-11 just down the street from Sam's place.

D, Sam's boyfriend, picked up on the tenth ring. "Yo!" the kid said, and she wondered how someone could make a two letter word sound so exasperated.

"D? It's Becka. I got some fresh shit, and it's really smooth. Wanted to know if you'd like to try a sample, maybe move some for me?"

"Becka? I can have some?"

"Yeah. Try some out for me. It's a modified formula, just learned it. I tried it," she lied, "and it's outrageous shit."

"No shit?"

"Yeah. Can I swing by, drop some off with you?"

"Yeah, man. That sounds righteous!"

"About a half hour?"

"I'll be here."

She went inside the store and picked up a pint of cottage cheese, then drove around the projects a few times, making sure there weren't any cops around, then she parked a few blocks away and walked over to the apartment. He opened the door as she walked up on the porch, and closed it as soon as she was inside.

D had played football at SMU and he'd been a monster - until he blew his knee in his junior year. Now he was on disability and pimping out a half dozen girls, but she still liked him - if only because his dick was about the size of her forearm.

"How's it hangin', D?"

"Still down to my knees," he said, grinning. "Want some, baby?"

"Um, you know it."

It still looked like a water moccasin, still all shiny and black when he took it out, and she went right down on him, took him to the edge a couple of times before she finished him off with her mouth. "God, you still taste so fuckin' good, man."

His ego sated, he leaned back and looked at her. "So, what's with this new shit?"

"I added a few magic ingredients, really mellows the trip. You wanna try some now, or wait for Sam."

"Fuck that bitch, man. Gimme some now, man. You got me stoked!"

She opened her bag, pulled out the vial she'd used on the guy at the bookstore and drew up just a little hit, then tied off his arm and patted a fat vein. She swabbed him and stuck him, then sat back and watched him fall into the deep end of the pool.

His eyes half closed, he moaned a little then his eyes popped. "Oh, man, this is fuckin' far out," he sighed. "Like flyin' in technicolor cloudland, babe..."

"I told ya."

"How much ya got?"

"How much can you move for me?"

"Can you get me enough to sample some out?"

"A thousand units be enough?"

"For samples? Shit, babe, I'll have the whole east side hooked in a month."

"So, you wanna make some real bread?" she said, taking his cock in hand as she spoke.

"What's with you, Beck? Why me? I thought you was done with this shit?"

"I need some bread, D. Some serious money, know what I mean?"

"Well, we can make some serious dough with this shit..."

"Think you can give me another load?"

"You keep working me over like that you'll get more than you can handle..."

"Promises, promises..."

He sunk back in his chair again, his eyes closed now and he felt her magic mouth take him almost all the way down. "Man, Beck, you still the best that ever was, ya know?" He looked down when she stopped, saw her sliding out of her jeans, then sliding down his snake. She rode him easy now, letting the pressure build, then easing off again and again, and after about a half hour she slipped back down between his legs and savaged him with her mouth, taking him all down again - just as Sam walked in the door.

She walked over and looked at them, then sat on the sofa beside D, and she could tell he was in electric ladyland by the way he was moaning. When Becka looked up at her and grinned she knew everything was cool.

D opened his eyes and looked at Sam. "Man, Becka's made some cool shit, Sam. She sampled me some, wants to do a deal. You in?"

Sam looked at D, then at Becka - with come still streaming out the side of her mouth. "What? You're not going to share?"

Becka leaned over and slipped her tongue in Sam's mouth, and they rolled their tongues together for a while, then she broke off - when she saw the bracelet around her wrist. "What's that?"

"This? Oh, I been out at the fair all afternoon. Ridin' some rides, ya know?"

Confused now, maybe she hadn't seen Sam in the bookstore. Maybe. "Oh yeah? What did you ride?"

"Oh, you know that worm ride? Goes round and round, the canvas thing covers you up? I love that one...can't get enough..."

"So? You wanna try some? D? A little more?"

They both said yes - and she smiled.

When she was finished she washed her knife in the kitchen sink, then sprinkled the last of her green onions on the cottage cheese and ate half the container, then turned on the TV. She left the apartment in the middle of the night - long after Dickinson and Sawyer had called off their stakeout for the night - and she drove home with a smile on her face...