Things found while cleaning out the inside of the El Camino.
- 2 empty coffee cups. - 2 not so empty coffee cups - My GPS. I knew it was somewhere - 4 water bottles - A piece of chewed gum - Jumper cables, bungee cords, flairs and one of those mylar blankets. Still in the Christmas gift bag I got them in. - A spent battery - A couple of those tree shaped air fresheners. Okay, more than a few. - Kneenex - My good blank panties. - An overdue library book - And a brochure for a 2010 Chevy Hybrid, courtesy of Detective Hoyt if I recognize the handwriting emphasizing the models strengths in the margin.
- Red tape. - As soon as I can. - I swear. - She deserved it. - Trust me. - You can’t expense this. - We need to talk. - Stay put. - Leave the investigating to the investigators. - You did WHAT?! - There’s just not enough evidence. - There are some things better left unsaid.
1. DA Renee Walcott and I work for the same team. 2. Ditto for that rat bastard ADA Jay Meyers 3. Belly baring T's should only be worn by teenagers--or at least woman under the age of 35. 4. That whole attracting more with honey instead of vinegar thing. Whatever. 5. To stop letting the mystery surrounding my mother's death rule my life. 6. That the El Camino might need to be replaced. Some time. In the distant future. Some day. 7. I make a better brunette rather than a blonde. 8. Smoking is bad for you. 9. Hallucinations and the occasional memory lapse might not necessarily mean you're going insane. 10. Family is not defined by DNA.
- how much milk is left in the fridge. There is nothing worse than getting up at three in the morning and reaching in the refrigerator only to find the carton empty.
- the same goes with Chardonnay.
- My fantasy league. At this point I think it’s time to break A-Rod’s legs.
- The oil level in the El Camino. Okay, I admit I don’t do it every day but it’s nice to know when I need to get a few quarts of oil to toss in the back just-in-case.
-Jane Does 2007-004 through 2009-011 and John Does 2005-034 through 2009-051. Somewhere, someone knows something.
- My phone messages. Nine time out of ten they’re just telemarketers or bill collectors …but you never know if there may be a call from the past.
- birth control pills. I triple check if I’ve taken them. Can you picture me as a mother? Not to mention it would make the chardonnay check irrelevant and frankly I really need a drink at the end of most days.
- My frequent-flyer card for the coffee kiosk. Buy seven get the next free! That freebee is only thing that makes Monday mornings bearable.
Her eyes shifted back and forth. There it was. Not some piddly tall or a predicable grande, but an honest-to-God six-trips-to-the-bathroom-before-noon venti! Alone, unaccompanied, apparently abandoned among the stacks of files on his desk, alone, forgotten….beaconing, calling, screaming for attention.
His $4.95-plus-tax loss, her gain.
A split second later she was humming smugly over the still steaming lid.
Alright, in some circles her actions would be called a disorder, a personality fault, even a sickness. Although she’d never admit to that far. A quirk maybe, a bad habit. If pressed she might go as far as referring to it as an occasional momentary lapse of judgment.
Yeah...whatever.
There was just something satisfying about the thrill of the find and getting away with the crime.
She always justified her actions by telling herself that it was just a matter of finders losers; that possession was nine-tenths of the law; the forbidden always tastes sweeter….Which wasn’t much of a stretch considering the brew in her hand. That swill in the urn in the corner of the precinct’s bull pen maybe, but there was something almost sacrilegious in the desecration of the perfect cup of Colombian with six sugars and two creams.
It was her hedonistic mission…no, her solemn duty to do something about it. So, with another quick sweep of the room and the last drags of that South American caffeine was on its way to hum in her veins.
All that was left was the escape leaving nothing but a lipstick smear in her wake and the words on the tip of her tongue…. ‘ Me? I didn’t do it.’
- Plane crashes - Subway cave-ins - The lights going out in the Ted Williams during rush hour. - Turf wars, gangs, interdepartmental, whichever. - Crystal Meth - Anytime Samantha Marquez is in town.
1. All together now: The El Camino. Now matter how much money I sink in it, it hasn’t worked right since they dragged it out of that lake. Sorry. Ain’t happening.
2. The half empty bottle of wine on top of my refrige. It’s undrinkable at this stage. It was the last one I shared with J.D. Shit happened. We never got around to finishing it.
3. The key to my old man’s house. After all, the new owners changed the locks years ago. It’s just there, on my keychain, weighing it down.
4. Her locket. It was stolen a few years back. The jackass broke it trying to get it open. It can’t be fixed. I’ll never wear it. The gold is still worth something…right?
5. My utter distain for the City of Los Angeles. You can’t beat the weather, or the shopping. Convertibles are not only practical, they’re almost mandatory. The beaches (and beach bodies) are great and the sunsets are the best in the world. I just need a tranquilizer the second I hit the city limits.
6. This sick, icky, I’m-going-to-throw-up-a-little feeling I get every time think of Nigel and Kate…together…naked…doing whatever they hell they do that brings them to work the next day walking gingerly with little satisfied little smirks on their faces. Not that I knock them finding each other willing and…. I think I’m going to get sick right now.
7. These jeans I have. The ones with vertical stripes, straight out of “Tommy”. Frankly, I’m too old for them. By a good 20 years. But they still fit.
8. Danny McCoy’s direct phone number on my speed dial. It’s not like I’ll ever use it again. At least not for the original reason I have it. We’ve both moved on to better, more permanent situations. Is it so bad to have someone you can call that has a private jet in case you find yourself, say, in L.A. without transportation out?
9. The cigarette lighter I carry in my purse. I haven’t smoked in over ten years. I don’t know why I keep one with me. Maybe it’s a deterrent of some kind. Maybe it’s just in case I’m out and someone needs a light. Maybe it’s a thread to a time I doubt I’ll ever be ready to completely grow out of.
10. The scars I carry from the plane crash. I know I can have them fixed. If not removed, at least softened. I have the number to a good surgeon. I don’t know. Maybe I don’t want to forget.
(OOC: Psst, don't tell anybody but this mun is playing hookie from work today. I have about a gillion hours of compt time I'm never going to see this year, so I felt a cough coming on. I'm so fricking far behind in prompts it's not funny. Hopfully I'll get a few done now.)
72. 2. Make a list of things that put you in a good mood.
- Hockey fights. On the ice or in the stands. Either or. I’m not fussy. - Scoring a great parking spot without using my medical examiner’s credentials - Finding Size 8 ½ Jimmy Choos on the sale’s rack. - Coming home and finding dinner already on the table. - Phone sex - Making plans for – well - sex. - Okay, fine…a lunchtime quickie on the intake desk in the Crypt.
busy
frustrated
contemplative
accomplished