Free It Sometimes Snows In May: A B.E.A.N. Police Novella by Tope Oluwole Page A

Practice comes beside her. “Can you identify who did the throwing?”
     
    “Oh yes. He was a big fella. Like that wrestler on Friday Night Fights ,” she says.
     
    “Was there anyone else involved?” Practice asks.
     
    “Yes. A few minutes after the man threw the guy over, a fat man in a hover chair came out. After him, the same big fella. The big fella, put a woman in the trunk of his car.”
     
    “Did the woman look like this?” Patel shows the older woman an image of Ryles on his PDA. The older woman squints, and then turns her head from one side to the other.
     
    “Well, it could be her, but I dunno. I mean they all kinda built the same you know,” the older woman says.
     
    “Yes. We know,” Practice says. “What type of vehicle was it? What color?”
     
    “It was one of those temp cars, you know? Rent by the hour… A red one I think. Yes, it was red,” the older woman says.
     
    “How do you know it was a temp car?” Patel asks.
     
    “It had the logo on the back,” the older woman says. “I passed when I was walking Reginald..” Patel and Practice were about to respond. “..my dog. It was too new and cheap, to belong to anyone on this block. We like the old stuff. You know, cars that last at least five years.”
     
     
    A temp car with the Director of Protocol in the back and his heavy driving hum down the avenue. He hears faint banging beyond the rear cabin he’s seated in.
     
    “I guess you didn’t drop her hard enough,” Director of Protocol says.
     
     
    Zota breezes through city traffic. He peeks at the GPS clock on the heads-up-display. “Damn.”
     
     
    Morefishco reclines at his desk. His wireless earpiece flashes blue, as he puts notes to net-paper. “What about John Doe?”
                 
                  On a split display atop Morefishco’s desk, Patel appears. “ Ah, he got away from us. ”
     
                  “Got away?” Morefishco. “How does a man who doesn’t even know his own name, in a state he doesn’t live in, get away from a state guard?”
     
                  “ John Doe and Misses Brown were gone when we got to her residence. A neighbor says some men put Misses Brown in the booth of a temp car. We have another John Doe; dead at the scene ,” Patel says.
     
    “Great!” Morefishco says. “Any more good news?”
     
    “ I’ve got a trace on our first John Doe, ” Patel says. “ He is travelling down Main Street. His destination is...East Ispari Hospital. ”
     
    A virtual desk guard pops his head into Morefishco’s office. Morefishco waves him forward. Behind the virtual desk guard, Morefishco can see Elisa and Aalin. “Have them wait a moment.” Morefishco tells the virtual desk guard.
     
    “Please be mindful of the two minute warning,” the virtual desk guard says.
     
    “Yes, I won’t keep them waiting for more than two minutes. I know the regulation,” Morefishco says. Morefishco waits until the virtual desk guard has retreated, before turning his attention back to Patel. “Bring him in.”
     
    “On what basis?” Patel asks.
     
    “Driving without a license for starters,” Morefishco says, and then taps the screen to end the call. Morefishco waves Elisa and Aalin into his office. He studies them with his glance as they sit down in suits that look like they would cost him a weeks salary.
     
    “Thank you for coming Representative Citysun. Can I get you some coffee, water…” Morefishco gestures over to his well appointed minibar, including juices and carbonated soft drinks.
     
    “Zota Citysun is my husband,” Elisa says is an even tone. “Where is he?”
     
    Morefishco waits a moment, gazes to Aalin, and then returns his gaze to Elisa.
     
    “This is my protective detail,” Elisa says.
     
    “Well, before I can answer your question, I’ll need to verify you are who you say you are,” Morefishco says.
     
    “Really? You don’t know who I am?” Elisa slides