A Long Way To Go

Chapter 3: Ginny's Jinx

Ginny glanced at her Patek Philippe wristwatch for the umpteenth time, cursed under her breath and sunk into the soft, patent leather office chair. It was 2:19 pm and she prayed for the feet-dragging hours to pass. She fetched her box of chocolates from the desk’s drawer and put one in her mouth—her only pastime.

It’s the eve of her annual leave and she literally had nothing better to do. Her view overlooks the landscape of Conley Boulevard, home to federal agencies and parastatals, mostly cloaked with simple classical and Ottoman designs. From this office, many seemingly impossible homicide and robbery cases had been solved and she took significant credit for a few.

The past year was intense, with a couple of cases that gained her a tremendous reputation and promotion for exceptional work. A detective of such beauty and talent, you’d be easily mistaken about her personality. She would pass for a runway pageant princess or one of those lean, sexy girls that provide some eye candy in car race contests.

Gareth came in unannounced. She quickly took her legs of the table, straightening to adjust her Lycra gown that had rolled above her knees.  “The chief wants you, Ginny,” he said in a loud, upbeat voice that sounded as though he just won a lottery.

“I have told you countless times to always knock! Gareth!” Ginny snarled. She got her dress right but there was more than enough time for Gareth’s roving eyes to catch the long, perfect legs she was making a lot of effort to conceal. “Someday I’m going to slap you a s****l harassment rap, you hog-headed sack of peanuts!”

“Sorry ma’am,” Gareth said, what he’d just seen making it hard for him to show remorse. And he loved it anytime he got on her nerves. He thought she looked more adorable with a frown. “It seems pretty urgent. We both know what it means when the chief perches on his desk and runs his hand through his hair,” his eyes bright with the same optimism he spoke with.

Ginny resisted the overwhelming urge to fling the box of chocolates at him with the way his eyes continued to feast on her cleavage. She responded in a stifled voice “Tell Max I’ll be with him shortly.” He lingered. “Get out, Gareth!”

When Ginny entered Max’s office, he was still sitting on his desk, staring out the window, cigar in hand. And she immediately knew it can’t be good. Max only smoked when he’s mad or stressed out. Max was a tall, frail-looking scrawny middle-aged man. But he had a voice and a way he looked that would run a chill down your spine. Ginny often wondered how he passed military training but concluded he rose in ranks because he has brains.

Half sure she won’t be smiling on her way out, she asked “So, what’s the news?”

Max straightened and turned to look at her. “Nice watch.”

“Thanks. A gift,” she snapped. “Or should I ask, what’s the bad news?”

Max lit his cigar and took a long, lung-filled toke. “Bad news… good news… it’s just news. People do good and bad things. News has no morality…”

“Cut to the chase, Max.”

“A knife-happy criminal is on the loose. I think Pelosi is back on the grid, Ginny.” Max said.

The words rang in her ears like the chime of a church bell. Pelosi is on their list of top four most-wanted murder and street robbery suspects. He was responsible for Bale’s death.

Bale was Ginny’s fiancé. A privileged, smart, handsome charmer who loved the good life. They went clubbing that night and Bale got soaked. But that’s never a problem. Bale could drive his well-maintained Mustang for miles even if he drank the ocean. After a few miles, a rattling sound came from under the hood. With Bale as high as a Leer Jet it was useless imploring him to check what went wrong. The car broke down as he veered into the street of his St. Louis apartment. That was when Pelosi appeared. A meticulous, stealthy, unforgiving, knife-wielding thief with a menacing build.

“Wallets and jewelries,” he said, left hand clasping a jack knife, swaggering toward them in a way that made Ginny’s heart jump into her mouth. It took a moment for Bale to grasp what was going on. By the time he reached for his glock in the glove compartment, Pelosi had crouched and closed in swiftly with the stance of a pro boxer. And for all that seemed to appear to happen at once, he yanked at the door of the Mustang, grabbed Bale on the collar and threw him out of the car. Bale landed with a thud and made a desperate, failed, attempt to get on his feet. Pelosi just picked him up like a paper sheet and ran him through with the knife. Three times.

Ginny just sat in the car and watched, too terrified to make a move. Pelosi took Bale’s wallet and Rolex and he didn’t appear to be in a hurry. She gave out a stifled whimper when he turned toward the car. Pelosi approached confidently, cocksure she wouldn’t do anything stupid. Then the headlights of a bus suddenly appeared from the end of the street.  And just like a genie, Pelosi vanished into thin air. Ginny rushed out of the car to where Bale was lying, writhing in pain. Bale clutched his stomach, face strung with veins, eyes bloodshot, and talking inaudibly as Ginny held his head up. He coughed, then his hands slid off his blood-stained white shirt.

“Ginny, are you alright?” Max called.

She looked up at him as though she’s been in a trance. Her face was pale and she felt faint. “How do you know it’s Pelosi?”

“Won’t you be disappointed if I didn’t know? It’s him. Besides, I got a description.”

Ginny had tried to put the incident behind her, but the last look on Bale’s face was a memory that haunted her for months. And she had vowed to bring Pelosi to justice. “Wow, isn’t that great? The Pelosi cold case gets microwaved just when my leave begins! Bam! He just shows up when I’m about to get some peace?” Her tone made the entire room reek with sarcasm.

I’m sorry Ginny but not about your holiday. You can take your leave if you want it so bad. I just thought you’d like to work on this one. I can brief you from time to time, if that’s fine?”

Max’s cell rang at 8:09 am the next morning and he picked up promptly. “Hey chief, it’s Ginny. What’s for breakfast?”

“Hey Ginny, how you holdin’ up? I knew you’d come around.”

“Don’t get too excited, I just wanted to know what’s fresh on Pelosi.”

“Plenty. Get to the office and let’s get to work.”

“Not so fast, chief. I have my conditions. I don’t want Gareth on the team and when all this is over I’m taking a quarter off.”

“Check. Anything for you, Ginny. With Pelosi out of the way, you have the rest of the year to yourself.”

The line went dead.