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.
