Free Bitter Sweet by Mason N. Forbes

straight to my teeth.
    ‘I’ll get it,’ Mike said, and moved towards the door before I could object.
    Wow. Cool as you like, Mike opened the front door. The look on the lead cop’s face was good enough to keep me going for the rest of the day.
    ‘Good morning,’ Mike said. ‘May I be of assistance?’
    The lead cop, a real barn door type, opened his mouth and then closed it again.
    ‘If you would be so kind,’ Mike continued. ‘Please inform your colleagues that the occupant of the next apartment is in here.’
    ‘Roddy!’ the lead cop yelled. ‘Get over here.’
    Within seconds six police officers stood outside my apartment; four men and two women. And, they didn’t know what to do.
    ‘I assume,’ Mike said, raising his right hand, ‘you have a search warrant?’
    That elicited a reaction; the lead cop obviously felt more secure as he was now able to follow procedures. 
    ‘Your name, sir?’
    ‘Mike Marshall.’
    ‘And your business, here?’
    ‘Accountant,’ Mike said, handing over a card. ‘May I have a copy of the warrant?’
    The cop hesitated.
    ‘I’m acting on the lady’s behalf.’
    Mike took the proffered warrant and scanned the details.
    ‘And the other young lady?’ Mike asked.
    The cop turned to his colleague, Roddy, who re-clipped the microphone of his radio back on to his uniform. Roddy must have been calling in the bad news and receiving further instructions. He stepped forward and handed Mike the other warrant.
    Mike didn’t bother looking at it, instead he held it up. ‘Any different from the first one?’
    ‘Just the name,’ Roddy said.
    ‘In that case, why don’t you start here?’
    Roddy looked at his colleague and nodded. Mike stood aside, allowing the police to enter my apartment.
    The lead cop walked along the corridor, his boots squeaking on the laminate flooring. He looked at Ivonne and then at me.
    ‘Are you T ina Thompson?’
    I looked into his green eyes. Nothing there, just the penetrating stare which seems to afflict policemen.
    ‘Yes,’ I said.
    ‘We have a warrant to search your apartment. By law you are entitled to a copy of the warrant. It is now in the possession of your accountant.’
    ‘What are you looking for?’
    ‘The warrant states that we have the right to conduct a search for controlled drugs.’
    I swallowed at that – I’d have to be a right jerk to have drugs on the premises. But, what if they had intended planting some drugs? Oh shit. Nerves and my imagination were getting carried away.
    The cop cont inued; ‘Money laundering and the exploitation of women against their will.’
    ‘You’re joking?’
    ‘No, miss, I’m not.’
    ‘Good luck,’ I said. The warrant accurately described the type of establishment which Erjon ran, and not the legal work of an independent escort. 
    My immediate nervousness faded, to be replaced by a feeling of inevitability – almost relief. I had done no wrong. This was all a waste of time. I sank down on to the sofa. Ivonne joined me and crossed her legs; one foot began to bob up and down.
    Two detectives entered the apartment, snapping latex gloves on to their hands. Great five cops. The three in the sitting room did not know what to do. They had already perused the décor and had taken to staring out the window. Now, a few nods and glances were exchanged before the detectives entered the bedroom. Would there be any reaction when they opened the closet and found the various kinky dresses or the array of sex toys on the top shelf. Somehow, I thought not.
    Mike stayed in the corridor watching as the detectives began their search. Had the same thought occurred to him? Would they attempt to plant evidence?
    The lead cop’s radio squawked into life. He hurried out of the apartment.
    The two remaining cops, a young guy and a woman – I guessed she was in her mid-thirties – with nothing else to do, turned to look at us.
    The man, who reminded me of the cop I had been dating, gave us a frank stare, but