Saffron’s Menagerie. Phil Stevenson

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      Saffron plays up to it. “Mirror, mirror on the wall. Who is the fairest of them all?”

      Saffron, being a master of disguise, articulate in every aspect, talks from the mirror.

      “Youare the fairest assassin of them all.”

      Saffron smiles to herself, then with a drooping bottom lip, “Then am I not also the fairest of them all?’

      The mirror replies:

      “Yes, youare the most fairest assassin of them all in the land.”

      Saffron laughs.

       MANHATTAN

      1.

      Senior Detective Matthew Scott has obtained a warrant to enter the home of Franco Garcia and is waiting on his steps for the locksmith to arrive. His partner, Detective Barbara Custer, is at his side looking at her cell phone. No one wants to be called out for wrecking a colonial antique door.

      Franco’s cousin, Carlos Lopez, had called the Police concerned that his attempts to contact Franco had no result. Actually, Carlos was pissed that Lucky wasn’t home to receive his delivery, which would have netted Carlos about four grand. However, Lucky was always home. A worry.

      The locksmith drives a small shitty yellow van with a lock and key and phone number roughly painted on the side. Of all names, the business is called, ‘Locke’s Locks’.

      “Don’t get down these parts much,” old Don Locke says as he waves to the officers after he parks his van.

      He walks up the steps to them. “I don’t need to see anything except your badges. Then I’ll get this door open for you.”

      Matthew shows him his badge and Don unzips his bag of tricks.

      “This is a great lock, this one is,” he looks at the character and craftsmanship of the lock with admiration. “I haven’t seen one of these for years.”

      “Will you be able to open it?” Barbara asks.

      Don stops and looks at Custer with a frown. “Do you do your work well?”

      Custer gets pissed and looks away.

      “No electronics. Good old craftsmanship. Lots of tumblers. I’ll get it though.”

      Don takes about four minutes, with his skilled tools and skillful know-how to open the door.

      Matt says, “Would you wait out here until advised, as there may be other locks inside.”

      “OK by me. I’m on a half hourly rate.”

      Matt walks inside; Barbara follows and smiles at Don.

      “Sorry lady. I didn’t mean to be rude, just doing what I know best.”

      Barbara smiles again, “We’re cool. And thanks.”

      The odor inside was rank and immediately assaulted their nasal passages like a rotting tsunami. It is now a week and a bit since Lucky received his last groceries. In fact, his most recent delivery is also rotting on his front steps.

      Both detectives retrieve hankies and cover their noses and immediately put on gloves.

      “I’m not sure I can stand the smell,” Barbara grimaces through her hanky.

      “Hang in there. Do you have any perfume in your kit?”

      “Yes, I do, and OK let me spray a bit on your cloth and on mine.”

      “Call the Station and inform them that we need to have Franco taken away. At the moment, I am calling this a crime scene.”

      Barbara Custer had to go outside, only as an excuse to call in the situation. She is twenty-seven, five feet four, and just made it into the force. Custer’s a red head, even there too. Short thick dark red hair in a bob that turns into the nape of her neck. An expensive cut. Easy to manage. She has a round proportioned face with neat white teeth. Brown eyes and an attempt at all times to be as attractive as she can. Custer has been in the New York Police Department for three years, and being a dux graduate, she moved into plain clothes very quickly. Matt is her first formal partner. They’ve been together for nine months.

      Matt goes through the townhouse and visits all floors. There is only one room locked and poor Don had to suffer the stench as he makes his way to it.

      “Oh dear Mary, what a smell. Is there a dead horse in here?”

      Matthew hurried him up the stairs to avoid seeing Lucky, or what was once Lucky.

      “This one is electronic,” Don frowns as he inspects the lock on the third floor room. “May take some thinking.”

      “OK, Don take your time, we will be down stairs when you call out.”

      Matthew, now downstairs looks at Lucky. He is covered with dried red sticky stuff. He is bloated and on the very, very ripe side. Matt notices a bug on the rug near Lucky. He bends down to get a better view. It is a scorpion, albeit a crushed one with red goo over it, but it is a scorpion!

      Matt was born on November 20th, two days left of a Scorpio. As a kid, everyone loves to know their zodiac sign and look at it over and over again, with repeated forecasts for all souls on Earth. Like it or not. Now aged thirty-three he does not check the horoscope pages as much.

      However, Matt likes his association to Scorpio types like James Bond, Ziva David and Winona Ryder, who he loves in the arts. He is very good looking, six feet tall, impeccably dressed, chiseled jaw with bright blue eyes, and as square as: ‘be there or be square’. Matt grew up in a cop family. Good people. Frustrated with their fellow kind on many occasions, however these guys are the best. They look after us, sometimes at their own peril. Matt respects that. He knows that the community depends on him to do his job the best he can. And so, he does.

      “It’s open,” comes the yell from Don up the staircase.

      “OK Don, we’re on our way.”

      “Detective can I go now? There aren’t any more locks are there?” He looks pleadingly. “The smell in here is making me feel real bad. I don’t think I even want supper tonight. Can I go?”

      “Thanks Don, you can go and thank you. Now you know what our job entails.”

      Don tips his cap to Matt and scurries down the staircase, squeezing shut his ruddy nose with his fingers, and towards the respite of his yellow van.

      Barbara sees him out and thinks she hears him dry-reach at the back of his shitty van. She thinks to herself, ‘I can never use this perfume again’.

      Matthew walks into the secured room. He is taken aback as he takes in the image. Large glassed cabinets on each wall, each with subdued lighting, and displayed on immaculate velvet trays, are layers of coins.

      There actually is a glint of precious metal in the room from the gold and silver. Each coin has СКАЧАТЬ