Warning: This story contains harsh and vulgar language, disturbing descriptions, and adult situations. This story is not for children and they should not be allowed to read it. Consider it rated “R”.
“Who was stayin’ in apartment five?” Frank asked as he took a swig of Blatz.
He had come out of the ruined apartments and walked over to the manager’s apartment. Inside, Frank told Tyrone what he had found and was rewarded with the beer.
Tyrone bent over to open up the bottom drawer of a squat file cabinet.
“Charmaine Pritchett.” He said pulling out the file. “Goes by the name, ‘Candy’.”
Frank let out a small chuckle.
“Yeah.” Agreed Tyrone. “Typical. Could’ve been worse. She wanted me to use her ‘rap sheet’ name in the contract.”
“And what was that?” Frank asked.
“Ivana.” Tyrone stated flatly. “Ivana Humpalott.”
Frank snorted out his beer on that one. “Damn! That girl’s got balls.”
Tyrone passed over the file. “Never know now days.”
Frank nodded in agreement as he scanned the file. “Not much of a picture in here. She escape the fire?”
“Don’t know? Haven’t seen here since and no one’s found a body. That why you took the ash? To check for bone?”
“Nah.” Frank shook his head. “It’s too burned up for that. I’m gonna have it analyzed for metal.”
“Metal?” Tyrone repeated, confused.
“Yeah, metal.” Frank answered. “Some metals heat up the fire when burned. Damn good way to hide evidence… or a body.”
“So you’re saying she’s dead.”
“No, I’m saying she might be. I need to find out.” Frank closed the file and handed it over. “I’m gonna need copies of this.”
Tyrone pushed it back. “Keep it. I already gave copies to the police, and insurance. I don’t need the damn thing anymore.”
Frank swallowed the last of his beer. “Fine by me.”
He crushed the can in his hand. “Who’s the detective on this case anyway?”
“Murphy.” Tyronne replied. “Hang on a sec and I’ll get his card.”
“Fuck that. I don’t need it.” Frank stated. “I can find ‘Robo-Cop’ on my own.”
“Suit yourself. Just get me the evidence I need.”
“Easy as pie, or Candy that is.”
Tyrone shook his head as Frank left the building.
Frank threw the crumpled can into the burned doorway before entering his car. He tossed the file on the passenger seat as he fumbled for his keys.
“Fuck.” He sighed, thinking about the work involved in finding someone. “I’d better check for meth as well.”
He stuck the key into the ignition and turned. Nothing happened.
“What the fuck?” He cursed while turning the key again.
Again, nothing happened.
“Come on. Come on!” Frank yelled as he pumped the gas and turned the key. “Start you piece of shit!”
Suddenly the car roared to life with all the lights on, hazards flashing, wipers swiping, and horn blasting.
“Argh!” Frank yelled in surprise. “What the hell is going on?”
“Now I’m steppin into the Twilight Zone.” Blared through the speakers of the radio as Frank frantically pulled back on the key.
The car died immediately.
Frank shook his head clear and looked at the keys in the ignition. Hesitating a moment, he turned them again. The battered car started up as normal as ever and sat obediently waiting to be put in gear.
“Damn wires.” Frank said as he shrugged his shoulders. “Must have a short somewhere.”
He put the car in gear and pulled out into traffic.