Detective Evans is expanding her horizons with the dance lessons. She’d always wanted to learn to tap dance but as the youngest of 9 children, there was never any money available for luxuries so no ballet or tap dance lessons. She’s determined to make up for lost time!

The phone rang and the cat went airborne. I try not to set the ringer volume to maximum but I had adjusted it during my lesson so that I could hear it above the music and the tap dancing. The middle of the night is never a good time to get a call. Cheap scotch made my tongue feel like it was wrapped in lamb’s wool as I groped for my cellphone. I miss my landline. All the buttons had braille dots and I could dial or answer without burning my retinas from the light on the display. I mumbled and listened. Within ten minutes I was on the road headed to another murder scene.

There were flood lights. I hate flood lights. I clipped my badge to the neck of my sweatshirt. It’s amazing how much cooler it is by the water. The body had been dragged up the beach to the lifeguard stand. She was wrapped in a serape and seeping water into the sand. The two kids that had discovered her were perched on the edge of the boardwalk clutching each other. Love is a wonderful thing but button-fly jeans are not conducive to dressing quickly when you get to third base and a corpse calls you out. Romeo and Juliet were damp and their teeth rattled in the Spring night air. The curfew violation was not going to happen again, I was pretty sure, so I had the officer send them home.

Our little corpse was naked except for the wet wrap and a large tattoo covering her right shoulder, front to back and spilling over onto her arm and neck. I had the officer focus his Maglite on her neck where I could make out the word succubus. I’d seen that name before but couldn’t remember where or when. It took me a little while to finally get it entered into the web browser of my new smart phone but I’m starting to see its usefulness. It brought up the name with the definition of Naamah. I was sure I knew why this one was dead and who’d done it. The murder weapon was wrapped up with her, a 3 foot section of cast iron pipe. Sammy D’Angelo’s prostitutes never leave. He runs a “til death do us part” operation.

By the time I finished, the birds were awake and singing. That created a strange backdrop as the ambulance crew loaded the body onto a stretcher that kept sinking into the sand. I knew that the day was going to be a rough one, so stopped to get the industrial sized coffee on my way home. I fed Blacktop, took a quick shower and finished the coffee. I even had time to warm it up before I rolled into work. I’m going to guess the little demon is in the system. If we’re lucky we can trace her latest bail money to Mr. D’Angelo. I’m feeling lucky.

I’ve included the 5 word prompt (bird, stop, sink, strange(r), spring) from the Procrastinators’ Weekly Writing Prompt #4 for March 8th.

Poor Detective Evans isn’t enjoying her new partner. That he showed up at her apartment was disconcerting, the reason why has pushed her over the edge…

I woke up with a pounding sinus headache compounded with a lack of sleep. Sitting up and marginally vertical, I managed to exit the bed. A shower and a swallow of milk from the carton to wash down the fistful of Ibuprofen and I was ready to tackle the day. The wind was driving raindrops against my window keeping time with the throbbing in my brain. Because of my pounding head, I was more likely to beat the day senseless and then shoot it. I’m just not a morning person when I’m sleep deprived. A sense of doom was pressing on my eyes when the doorbell rang. Looking through the peephole I could see it was the kid, my supposed partner. His presence at my door was annoying as hell and I had to force myself to slide the chain out to open the door.

The pain in my head doubled as he entered and offered me half of his ham salad sandwich. What kind of idiot eats ham salad at 7:30 a.m.? I waved it off and before he could start up the enthusiasm, I hushed him. He was on my turf and damn it all, he was going to play by my rules. In a voice like a rusty blade drawn from a sandpaper sheath, I growled that I was in no mood for fun or games. Staring him down, I demanded to know why he was on my doorstep before I had put on my service weapon. He stammered and sputtered. Then in an orgasm of anguish, informed me that he had wrecked the car. My hand went up and I covered my mouth. Turning away, I ordered him to sit and stay before I left the room. I’ve been working on my language since it was pointed out that profanity was counterproductive to a promotion. So I stood in my bedroom screaming, “Foxes, foxes, foxes!” into a bath towel. I wanted to yell, “You (inconsiderate carcass of a rotting otter you) blew me (and any chance) away by destroying my day!” but I couldn’t muster the energy.

A quick finger comb of the hair and the gun and holster off the nightstand and I was ready to go. So far he had dumped a Big Gulp in my lap, broken my desk chair, ate my lunch, lost two sets of keys to the handcuffs, and now the car. At least it was still drivable. Walking to the car gave me time to calibrate my anger to a low sizzle. I gave him ‘The Look’ standing at the driver’s door and he received the message and handed me the keys without a word. I had called him Tiger, then Pussycat, and lately it was Kid but after the Lieutenant gets through with him, I’m thinking Hey You will be sufficient.

I incorporated the Procrastinator’s Weekly Writing Prompts from 2-22-2026 into this episode…