Vice Cop Ch 08

Previously on Vice Cop, Hudson moved from his family home and into Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, to a house of his own. He had flashbacks of his days at the Academy and his assignments as a rookie cop. He remembered his fellow officer and friend Kyle Lennox, who had been his partner for a long time before his death by the alluring but dangerous Candy Spears, herself a pawn to the Columbian drug lord Leo Mendoza and his wife's illegal and evil machinations. He recalled his first love and high school sweetheart Sonya Romandini, who abandoned him for a career in modeling or at least escort work in California. As his trip down Memory Lane ended, he was surprised to discover that Lexa O'Neil, his rival cop had moved in next door to him.

This episode has two scenes involving lengthy sexual fantasies and masturbation. These are found in SCENE FIVE and SCENE TEN.

ONE

Hudson awoke thinking it had been a bad dream.

There was no way that Lexa was his next door neighbor. How on earth did that happen? He remembered she had always said she had lived in Queens. Was it possible she had moved to Brooklyn at the same time he had?

After eating his breakfast which consisted of bacon, eggs and a piece of fruit, he decided to investigate whether or not it was Lexa he had seen last night by the window of the house next door. It had been dark after all, and he had only seen her body and face and it could have been a mistake, perhaps another mulatto woman who might resemble her. He finished his milk which he usually drank for breakfast. He showered and changed hurriedly, knowing he would be late to work. He still had time for one little chore which was taking out the garbage.

The sun was warm outside and Hudson loved that this particular street was quiet and seemingly safe. But then again, he had just moved in. He had heard from different sources, many of them being other cops, that Bensonhurst Brooklyn was Mafia territory. So far, he had seen nothing to confirm that. He took out the garbage, which was mostly what he had for dinner the previous night, toilet paper and materials he had found he did not need such as extra boxes.

As he took the bag out into the front of his home by the street, he heard the door to the next door neighbor's house open. He turned to see who it was. Sure enough, it was Lexa O'Neil and the sight of her made his heart race a bit. A feeling of nervousness overcame him.

So it was she who was undressing by the window the previous night after all. She had become his neighbor. He wondered how often such a coincidence happened – two cops who worked in the same precinct and took assignments from the same Chief. Lexa did not see him; her face bowed a bit as she went down the little steps and out into the street, carrying a garbage bag herself. Hudson eyed her up and down. She was wearing what looked like jogging apparel – a sweatshirt and sweatpants, and it hugged her tight body.

She looked at Hudson and her jaw dropped.

They stared at one another in silence and Hudson regarded her with a curious expression, his eyebrow raised, looking like a frat boy who felt he had been treated to a cruel joke by his peers. Lexa composed herself instantly and she put the garbage bag into the can.

"Aren't you even going to say "Good Morning"?" Hudson said to her with a grin.

"You don't say good morning to me at the police station," Lexa replied, "why start now?"

"Well, it's just the right thing to do," Hudson continued, in a dead-pan and humorous way; letting her know he was having a bit of fun which was annoying her, "it's just being polite. After all, we're neighbors now."

Lexa closed the lid to the garbage can sonorously and angrily. She stared Hudson down.

"Look, Banach, you're the one who just moved in yesterday, not me. That house was not occupied before then. I've been living here for over a month now. And it's just a bit of bad luck too."

"Bad luck, eh?"

"Don't start with me. It's bad enough we have to work together. I'm going to appreciate you not talking to me, not bothering me, not "borrowing a cup of sugar" or even looking at me."

"Well, well, Miss High and Mighty, a Queen from Queens."

"I said be quiet."

They stared at each other again in silence.

"I'm going to be living here for a short time only," Lexa said, "only until Mason moves into Manhattan. He's asked me to move in with him."

"Detective Mason Holmes?"

"That's what I said."

"You two are going to be a live-in couple in Manhattan?"

"I don't want to talk about it. Not with you."

"I didn't know you were that serious about each other."

Lexa did not reply.

"I don't want to talk to you," she said, "as far as I'm concerned, you don't live next door to me."

"Alright. I'll pretend there's no one living next door to me either. Sound good?"

"Sound excellent."

"Good."

TWO

Herald Square and Broadway, 9pm

A young girl, her auburn hair in a long ponytail which she kept over one shoulder, stepped into a Yellow Taxi Cab. She was wearing a light grey wool sweater with a New York University logo and a small skirt which showed off her smooth young legs. The cab driver looked at her with a rather cold expression, despite her warm smile. His face was almost completely concealed beneath a cap.

"Where to?" he said flatly.

The girl gave him an address in Greenwich Village.

The cab driver made his way through traffic, and Broadway was always filled with traffic.

A sea of yellow cabs covered the street and the girl found it amusing. She rested her head against the cushion of the seat and looked at the restlessness of the city with the newcomer's usual zest. She had shopping bags at her feet and a shoulder bag with the NYU logo.

The cab driver, despite looking as if he was uninterested in the girl, was checking out all these things about her.

"You a student at the University?" he said.

"Yes."

"And you're not from New York City are you?"

"Actually, no. My folks are back home in Los Angeles. I'm studying to be an actress. I live in Greenwich Village in a rental apartment."

"They must have money to send you all the way here for that."

She found it rude or uncomfortable that he said that so she did not reply and merely froze. She then began to read a book. The route to Greenwich Village was long, even in nighttime, and the girl looked as if she was ready to fall asleep. She had been shopping after her university classes, and had been on her feet all day. The cab driver looked at her from his seat through the mirror. His face was still concealed beneath his cap and because it was dark, the girl could not make him out clearly.

After what seemed like forever, the cab came to a stop. It was serenely quiet outside which the girl found odd for being New York City. She had known night in Los Angeles which had never been this quiet.

She woke from her near-sleep and looked out the window and froze.

"Where are we? This isn't my home. Where have you taken me?"

"Shut up, rich little piece of ass."

He leapt into the back seat; put a hand over her mouth so that she wouldn't scream. The girl struggled, trying to kick him with her legs and trying to open the door of the cab. The man pulled out a knife, glistening in metallic silver and catching the moon's glow. He slit her throat with it and then proceeded to stab her.

No one had seen a thing.

THREE

At police headquarters, Chief Barry Hiller, Detective Mason Holmes and the cops from the Manhattan precinct headed by Hiller and Lieutenant Isaiah Dante were in a meeting that was considered urgent and important.

All the important members of homicide division were there. To add to the significance of the meeting, FBI was there. Cops that were loaned to FBI and worked homicide and vice were there as well. This included Lexa O'Neil who worked with Mason Holmes. Also present was Hudson Banach, who of late had done work for them in undercover positions. They sat around a large conference table and Mason Holmes was standing up next to Chief Barry Hiller.

Hudson did not like that Mason Holmes was always hanging around the Chief as if he was the crème de la crème. In all truthfulness, the Chief's right-hand man was Lieutenant Isaiah Dante. Hudson liked to think that after Dante, he ranked as the most important cop. But he figured that Mason, with his brilliant intuition and detective skills, was considered by far the best detective in Manhattan.

"He is being called the Yellow Cab Killer," Mason said, "already he has killed ten victims. None of them fit a distinct type and they were male and female victims. These were random killings of passengers that he drove to different locations that were not their destinations and killed them on the spot. He works tactfully and has avoided any kind of attention. He has not yet exhibited the signs of a master serial killer who enjoys publicity and infamy. The killings were done in non-consecutive occasions and in a span of half a year."

"Do we know anything about him?" one of the cops inquired.

"We believe he is a large man, either white or ethnic," continued Mason, "he hides well in his own clothes and under his cap. He's just begun his wave of murders."

"He's managed to be discreet and tactful," said Chief Hiller, "it's been hard to find this guy."

Chief Barry Hiller gestured for Mason to sit down.

A look of disbelief and confusion spread across the faces of the cops and detectives seated on the table. This was a difficult case, and most likely reserved for only the most skilled members of FBI and homicide. The Chief took out some papers and the cops passed it on to each other to look at.

"These are lists of Yellow Taxi Cab companies in New York City, which as you know there are a lot of," Hiller said, "your job is to look up these companies and begin interrogations. This man is elusive and has probably changed jobs often, perhaps even his appearance. He is working for one of the cab companies and we have to find him before he escapes us again. So far, there is no sign that he works for a Manhattan Yellow Cab Company. The victims' bodies have been found in sewers in the Bronx, in parks, in dark alleys in Brooklyn and in trash cans in Queens. This guy doesn't work in any one borough."

"Hello officers, my name's Oswald Carey, FBI," said an agent, "It's imperative that we act quickly or else we are going to look like we don't care or that we're incompetent. Manhattan residents are horrified by what's been going on and they look to us for help. Alright men –"

The FBI agent looked at Lexa apologetically.

"And Miss O'Neil," he said, correcting himself, remembering she was the only woman on the force, "your assignment is to look up these cab companies, even the private for-hire ones and talk to as many cab drivers as you can. Meeting adjourned."

Lexa O'Neil and Mason Holmes worked as partners in the Homicide Division.

They had been steadily growing closer as partners, both on duty and off, ever since Lexa's undercover assignment in Atlantic City in pursuit of a serial killer who had raped and murdered prostitutes. Lexa was terrific whenever she went undercover, unafraid of being so close to danger and she had been close to death that last time.

She was the most dedicated civil servant in Manhattan, and she had also spent hours helping inner-city school children through lectures and after school programs, warning them about the dangers of drugs and gangs. She gave to charity and was an interesting dichotomy – a beautiful and classy girl, the daughter of her opera diva mother, and on the other hand she was a tough cop who was good at what she did. Mason had hoped he could train her to become a detective but she preferred to work in the capacity of undercover cop.

When she heard about the Yellow Cab Killer, she went straight to work. Mason assigned her to an undercover assignment. Posing as a Manhattan housewife, she did some shopping at Saks Fifth Avenue and then she hailed a cab. She had to do the same thing two more times, hailing different cabs in order to talk to the drivers face-to-face. Mason Holmes had asked to be her partner in this undercover assignment but he was needed at the precinct for another assignment. Lexa went alone. Or so she thought.

FOUR

"Where to, Miss?" said the Persian cab driver.

Lexa was able to see him clearly in the light of day. He was fat, bald and had distinct Middle-Eastern looks, including dark crescents under his eyes. She wondered in the back of her mind if this was the killer.

"I'm going to Queens," she said, and gave him the address to her old home, the one she had moved out of.

This was part of her cover and she ensured that they would have to drive through traffic so that they could have a longer time to chat.

"Ok," replied the driver in his heavy accent, " but firzt I haf to drop of dis man to Brooklyn."

She hadn't noticed there was another passenger in the cab. She looked to the side and to her surprise, it was Hudson Banach.

He was wearing a "Wall Street" power suit, navy blue, with a red tie and his jet-black hair was slicked back. He was obviously undercover doing a similar assignment, posing as a Manhattan denizen in need of cab service. He looked at Lexa and grinned.

"Hey there," he said to her, "don't I know you from somewhere?"

"I don't think so, sir," Lexa replied, letting him know she wasn't in the mood to play games.

The cab drove down the street and into traffic, and it looked like it was going to be a while before they reached Brooklyn. It was noon and New Yorkers were up and about, the streets filled with activity. Hudson and Lexa were silent and Lexa felt annoyed at annoyed at Hudson's presence. How on earth did they end up in the same taxi while working undercover?

"Aren't you working vice?" Lexa asked him in a whisper, careful that the cabbie wouldn't hear them.

"I was supposed to," Hudson replied, "but they had a shortage of cops according to that FBI man, Carey, so they assigned me to go undercover. And now that we're both on the same team, who's going to interrogate this guy?"

"It makes sense if we both do that. Just follow my lead."

After a moment of silence, the cab was headed for the bridges that led into Brooklyn.

"Do you work Wall Street?" she said to Hudson.

"I'm an investment banker," he answered, "my name's Chester. Chester Cannon."

"I'm Abby Cunningham. I'm also a banker. I haven't seen you there before."

"Me either."

"So did you hear about the Yellow Cab Killer?"

They were speaking in loud voices so that the driver could hear their conversation. At the same time, they were keeping an eye on his facial expressions through the mirror. So far, his face did not change and he was uninterested in their conversation.

"I heard he's hard to find. No one knows what he looks like. How do you suppose he manages to keep faceless like that?"

"I don't know. It's scary. I'm so afraid that I might run into him. I use taxis all the time."

"Me too."

After a moment of silence, Hudson leaned against Lexa to whisper:

"This is so stupid, Lexie. I feel like we're not going anywhere with this."

"I think there's another way."

The cab driver crossed the Bridge into Brooklyn and was headed for Hudson's address.

"Sir," Lexa said, getting the driver's attention, "have you heard about this so-called Yellow Cab Killer?"

"No, I don't know anything about that," said the driver, briskly.

Of course, this reply could either be a lie or just a response that denoted annoyance. It could well be that this guy did not know anything about the killer. Hudson and Lexa stared at each other silently and did not say a word for a while as the cab rolled down the street.

"Are you going to be hailing another cab?" Hudson said to Lexa discreetly.

"Yes, right after he drops me off in Queens, I gave a fake address. Why did you give him your address?"

"I didn't. I gave him the address of my old friend Kyle Lennox...where he lived before he died. I'm going to be taking another cab, too later in the day."

"Mason Holmes has sent another team of cops to do the same. We're going to meet again at six in the afternoon at the station to see what we've dug up."

"Let's hope this works."

After another moment of silence, Hudson, who had been staring at Lexa in her sexy business suit, leaned against her, smelling her perfume, and asked:

"So when are you moving in with Mason?"

She was surprised he asked this and she did not reply right away. She looked out the window, toward the sidewalks filled with ethnic children skateboarding and frolicking toward an ice-cream truck.

"I'll be moving into his Manhattan home in a month."

"Why did you move to Bensonhurst first?"

"It was cheap and I found it to be convenient for the time being. Now stop asking me these questions. You don't need to be so damn nosy. What do you care about me and Mason?"

"Ok. Don't get your panties in a bunch. I was just curious."

"Well mind your own business, Banach."

"What do you see in him, anyways? He's not even a real cop."

She furrowed her brow and gave him a cold stare.

"I will have to ask you to be quiet. I'm not answering any more questions. It's my personal life. I don't ask you things like...like...who was the last girl you took to bed."

"I don't mind talking about it," he said with a grin.

Lexa's brown eyes met his blue eyes.

"Well of course. You're a guy. Men brag about the women they've had. Women aren't supposed to talk about things like that."

"I want to hear more about your life, Lexie," he said, "so I wouldn't mind if you told me things."

"I'm not telling you anything. And as far as your sex life, I don't care about it."

Hudson remembered The Hamptons and his threesome at that costume party. She had a point. She'd think he was a real pig if he revealed to her that he had engaged in sex while he was undercover at that party.

"Besides," she said, "I'm sure you haven't been with a girl since Sonya."

He looked surprised.

"How did you know about Sonya?"

"Word gets around. Lots of your fellow cops remember hearing about her from you."

"Well, I'd appreciate it if you don't bring it up."

"See? Exactly how I feel. Don't talk about your life and I won't talk about mine."

"Fine. It just surprises me. You and Mason. Some of the guys on the force thought you didn't like men at all."

"Shut up," Lexa said to Hudson, and then she turned to the cabbie. " Driver, please hurry. I need to get home badly."

* * * *

At Police Headquarters, Chief Barry Hiller had organized another meeting. Present at the meeting was Lieutenant Dante, Detective Mason Holmes and other cops from Homicide. They each reported what they discovered during their assignments. They had looked into different Yellow Cab Companies. So far, no one knew anything about an odd cabbie, or a suspicious one. The guy hadn't killed anyone in a long time but the Chief and Mason Holmes were certain he'd strike again before the year was over.

"What we need to do is continue our investigation," said the Chief, "we can't neglect this case. It's urgent that we keep following this nut job's footprints. So what do we have on this guy, Mr. Holmes?"

Mason retrieved some papers.

"Here are sketches about how we think he looks like. He's a large man, not overweight, but burly. He has a dark complexion, but he is not Hispanic or black. He is most likely Mediterranean in appearance, Italian or Greek. He wears a big coat and hat. The best way to get him is if we have bait. We think we know he works in Manhattan but often branches out to other boroughs who hire him. Before long, he'll kill again. Here are your next assignments. Lieutenant Dante, if you please."

The black Lieutenant passed out papers to each of the cops, each with their individual assignment. Lexa took a look at her assignment. She did not like that it was more undercover work. This time, she would be assigned with Mason Holmes, who would also be going undercover for the first time. This was better, she thought. She disliked working with Hudson.