Free Bitter Sweet by Mason N. Forbes Page A

the woman had a spiteful glint in her eyes.
    ‘Ah . . .’ the young cop began. ‘Have you girls been long at this?’
    Ivonne and I looked at each other. What the fuck?
    ‘No,’ I said. He was probably just curious. ‘I started about eighteen months ago.’
    ‘Ian,’ the female cop said. ‘Don’t believe a word they say.’
    Again, Ivonne and I looked at each other. Hateful cunt!
    ‘Can’t you get a normal job?’ the female cop asked with a sneer.
    ‘Listen, love,’ Ivonne said, looking at her askew, ‘I’ll bet I earn more than you do.’
    ‘But,’ Ian said, ‘why are two good looking girls like you doing this?’
    ‘Duh.’ Ivonne said. ‘I just told you. And, because we want to.’
    I heard the squeak of footsteps on the laminate floor, and looked up. The two detectives entered the room, followed by Mike. I couldn’t tell anything from the faces of the detectives, but Mike’s face was calm and relaxed. Not that there wa s anything to find. It was just the not knowing; the uncertainty created by having two cops sniffing about.
    The detectives started in the kitchen, even opening the f ridge and looking into every carton and container.
    Mike came and stood behind me. He placed his hands on my shoulders and began to gently massage my neck and shoulder muscles. Jeez – that felt good.
    The detectives continued to nose about in the kitchen, opening cupboards and peeking into jars and pots – you name it, they looked at it. Finally, they moved into the sitting-room-dining-room area to continue their search. Finished, one of them pointed at the laptop.
    ‘That belongs to me,’ Mike said. And it did.
    The detective pursed his lips. ‘We’ll need Miss Thompson’s phones.’
    Mike opened the search warrant, glanced at it and looked at the detective. ‘There is no mention of mobile phones in the warrant.’
    ‘Still.’
    ‘I am sure,’ Mike said. ‘Miss Thompson wishes to cooperate in every possible way.’
    That took me by surprise. It was the last thing on my mind – I wanted these nosy cops out of my apartment and pretty damn quick.
    Mike continued; ‘However, the warrant is not specific. And, were her mobile phone to be removed from her possession, the young lady’s business activities would be severely curtailed.’
    The detectives looked at each other. The faces of two uniformed cops were blank, but I could tell they were following the situation closely.
    ‘Your search,’ Mike said, ‘has not unearthed anything untoward.’
    Damn right .
    Again, the two detectives looked at each other.
    Mike placed the warrant on the table and then put his hands in his pockets, looking relaxed. An impasse had been reached. Who would back down first? I suspected that Mike was playing some sort of poker game. 
    ‘Just a moment, please,’ the detective said. He walked along the corridor and opened the front door. I heard it close. No doubt he was phoning for instructions.
    Mike came and stood behind me, leaned over and whispered; ‘May I call you Tina?’
    ‘Yes.’ He’d read the warrant. He now knew my real name; Tina Thompson. 
    ‘They can access your phone records, anyway. The warrant is not specific. They might have to prove cause.’
    I turned my head, listening intently.
    ‘The point is,’ Mike continued, ‘we volunteer the access – cooperation. That way you still get to keep the phone and the SIM card.’
    ‘He wanted both phones.’
    ‘I know.’
    Not having my phones would be a disaster, especially if I couldn’t back up all the telephone numbers. And my private one was a smart phone, not just something to make calls with.
    ‘Okay, do that,’ I whispered.
    There were no client identities on the phone. I was being naïve. The clients’ identities were irrelevant – well almost. I suppose someone could spend time and effort trying to identify the men and then blackmail them.
    More worrying was the other aspect, my perspective. All of my clients could be phoned or texted from my