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Subject: {ASSM} SUBMIT: COPS ARE ALWAYS RIGHT   
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TAXI MURDERS HYPERFICTION (TxM6)
"COPS ARE ALWAYS RIGHT"

1. False Leads: Josh walked on water.

"Hannah Coffield was taken somewhere off the street by some sweet man she
was fucking for love, for god's sake. Haven't seen her," Rae told the cops.

"What the fuck you cops want. When she was alive all you did is stick your
dicks in deeper, and kick her. She's fucken dead. Can you bring her back
motherfucker?"

That's what Rae, 19, a known George Washington Bridge street hustler, and
the "skinny bomb shell," as she was called, told the cops when they
questioned her about her dead friend, Hannah.

The Coffield Body had finally turned up ending the missing person saga in
the usual way, at the morgue. Discovered in the unlocked rest room of a
closed Hess gas station by a man walking his dog, Hannah had been missing
two months.

"I couldn't believe my eyes the aged shoeless man (who lived near the gas
station) said, "my bitch shepherd brought back a girl's head like she did a
bone. "I saw bad things in my day, but..."

At first, the police suspected Rae's pimp.

Called Josh, the pimp, an old white rocker and biker, the fucker pretended
he was Jesus walking on water.

Gathering teenagers around, he fed them dope and cocaine. They became
witnesses for his biblical tricks and he called himself the pimp of geeks.
Girl named "Marigold told the cops: "fucker brings girls he picks up at
rock concerts, or in the parks, up to the Hackensack Reservoir in Dumont.

"Wanted to go skinny dipping. What the fuck! Shit, ain't no virgin, and I
like to party, and he had great shit, and I even like girls, but when we
got there, he gave us some real hard shit, dope that made you puke as well
as almost come. You know he really danced on the water.

"I was in love, and then I fell down a steep incline, and was so out of it,
they left me there for the cops to find.

"Why did they forsake me? God, I never wanted to leave. I thought I was in
heaven; my name was Marigold. I was the little girl that Adam had always
wanted, and shit, why not, as Adam was the only man, he would have to fuck
me."

What followed was a detailed and nasty report written by cops for cops: In
it Josh was described as a dangerous man.

Detective Mann, made no attempt to be judicious. Continuing, Marigold said
and Mann recorded, "my daddy did all the girls in the family anyway. I was
the youngest. When he died in that car accident, he had three kids who were
children of his kids. I had one too when I was 14. I wanted Josh to be my
father. I really did."

Mann described Marigold as constantly smiling and crying at the same time.
In the middle of his dictation, he reported that Marigold said, "Shit now I
remember, Josh said he was protected by the Mafia. Even I know that is
crap."

Josh seemed to get away with the most outlandish antics. Cops didn't know
what to make of him. Not an ordinary pimp the cops hate anyone who doesn't
measure up to expectations. A man can be a murderer but if he seems
typical, the cops don't fuck with him as much. Be out of the ordinary like
Josh and they beat the shit out of you and look to find something, anything
to pin on you. Dicks feed on vulnerability. They seem to really get off on
hookers and druggies.

Listening to Josh you would have imagined he would have been a troubadour
in one age and not the failed rocker and pimp.

He'd give the runaways what they were denied at home by parents. When they
were thoroughly cooked on crap, fucking like bunnies, he would sell their
asses and beat the shit out of them just like the usual creep. The fact
that he is white gave him another inverted reputation. Some also say he had
a cock that would kill a horse. That was obvious bullshit one dissatisfied
girl reported to the cops in exchange for a free ride on her latest bust.

Girl with the street name Melody said Josh couldn't get it up unless he was
beating one of us up. "I got sick of it," she said. "My dad did the same
thing. Beat and fuck me. Why do I need more shit? I can go home and at
least eat and sleep half the time. Only have to fuck my father when he is
drunk."

The rap sheet said that the New York State cops had arrested Josh last year
for fucking around with a girl he had met at a rest stop on the turnpike.

Cops pulled him over for speeding in his Porsche, just minutes after he had
picked the eager child up. Police thought they had him, but it turned out
the runaway story was true, and they had no grounds. Josh told them the
girl took her underpants off, I didn't. "She said she had to pee and I was
pulling off to the side of the road."

The girl told the cops she was OK and he had not done anything. There were
many stories about "Prince Josh" as he was called. All were shit unless
proven otherwise. As one detective put it, "He's a user of kids and they
know it too.  As it turned out Josh did not murder Hannah Coffield.

A dead end is sometimes nothing more than that, but that did not stop the
cops from fucking with Hannah's roommate and sometimes bedmate, Rae
Stephens. She was the next witness interviewed.

2. Fort Lee, Police Station 3AM

Somebody sliced her up real fine," the cop said, while another cop pinned
up the police photographs of Hannah's remains now neatly collected and cold
at the morgue.

"Some fuck, your pimp, the Detective said." looking at Rae, showing her he
was pissed not at her but the murder of her friend, said.

Detective Lieutenant Bill Mann walked quickly into the room from his small
office near the coke and copy machine.

Jabbing his finger into the photos, he continued." That cunt for brains
Fuck cut her hands from her body while she was alive. He cut out the kid
she was carrying and stuffed the half formed brat back inside her twat.
That degenerate then burned off her nipples and cut off her feet. When the
screams got too loud, he smashed her throat and beat her with a hammer.
Finally, to make sure, as if she could be still alive, he cut off her head,
and came in her neck."

Rae listened to Mann watching him carefully (showing the cop the same hate
she would the killer), but then pausing briefly, said. "I didn't think much
of it when she was missing," Rae said. "Though maybe you had arrested her.
But she would have called. Maybe I thought she was in rehab.

Last week I got worried when she didn't visit with her kids in the foster
home. She never missed those visits.

"We always go where we go, know what I mean," Rae told the detectives
gathering 'round her in a circle, laughing and threatening without even
touching.

Rae wore a frail ripped tee shirt, micro skirt, no bra, underwear and
sandals. She was not shy, throwing her body around, smoking, nervous, while
she cooperated.

Every time a new cop came in to fuck her with their eyes, Rae looked at
them like she would a John and they mocked her while they fondled folders,
a FAX or what every bullshit brought them into the Detectives holding room.

"You fucken cops like to keep us in your Zoo," Rae said. Soften us up. Make
us fucken scared. Fuck you," she laughed at them, smoking harder.

"No smoking," one big Detective leaning on the soda machine yelled.

"What the fuck you doing, she screamed. That cigar smoking you."

"No smoking," he simply said louder blowing smoke as he left.

Watching the fat cop leave, Rae said about him. "The fat creep didn't offer
to buy me a coke; fucken cheap shit cops," Rae smirked at him, turning her
head up, looking for the first time like she was just a bit ill at ease.

Nothing happened for five to ten minutes. Rae sat there nervously twisting
the ends of her hair, not the least bit concerned that she was mostly
uncovered.

"Guess she picked a bad one," Rae said, speaking about her friend, Hannah,
who had turned up dead that morning in a motel in Fort Lee.

The cops said nothing. Rae fumed, tired of the quiet. "What the fuck they
do with my friend's body," she stood up, alarmed raising a quiet alarm.

"Shut the fuck up you," one cope screamed from the other side of the room.

"Tell your girl friend, Mann to suck your dick and shut the fuck up."

Getting up fast, another cop, near where Rae sat, pushed Rea off the chair,
and she fell on the floor immediately screaming police brutality.

"Like you care, Rae said, shaking. "I know the county will bury her. I
would tell you if I knew her family, think I am holding out."

Frustrated, Rae had a harder time with the silence than the grab ass.

Asking for a cigarette, Rae cupped another cop's hand leaning her other
hand on his leg, and then bending half over to pick up the matches he
dropped. She knew the cops were fucking her with their eyes as she let her
short skirt slide up where she sat, legs apart, to reveal her partially
shaved sex.

"I was wondering how the fuck long one of you would hold out," as she
grabbed her tits and felt herself up. "Want some?"

One cop folded his hands in his lap; another laughed, leaving the room,
shaking his head, telling all the cops outside that "this was one nasty
cunt bitch."

Waiting for someone to say something, after she sat down, letting her legs
open naturally, Rae continued to talk and the cops pretended to be busy and
not to listen.

"I don't know. Been beat up, but no one's done me in, guess I'm lucky," Rae
said. Disturbed by the laughter outside the room, realizing the cop who had
left the room had mocked her.

"Just like you local dicks," she said. "Want my ass, but pretend to not
need it. Shit."

When Detective Lieutenant Mann of Fort Lee's vice cops stood up in the
room, everything changed.

Rae knew him by his reputation: an honest cop who liked to get rough on the
blacks and Dominicans.

"Will I finally meet the hard ass Mann," she shouted," pointing her finger
at him."

Heard they fried your ass for fucking up some niggers in Englewood when you
were off duty. Nice to be a cop and get away with shit.

Mann didn't move. He said nothing, and did not acknowledge Rae. What Rae
said was true, but looking at the Detective you would never have noticed
any change in expression.

Detective Mann told the regular dicks to get the fuck out of the room, and
he locked the door.

"No one will disturb us. Shit," he said, directed his complaint at the cops
outside, staring at the door.

"Don't give me this good cop bad cop crap, Rae said. You think you're the
first cop I had to blow to get my ass out of jail. Get your pants off, she
said. I do only class work," and she laughed.

"Did you know anyone who threatened Hannah, the Detective asked?

"Do you want to get blowed or what?"

Mann ignored her.

"Stop being so fucken serious," Rae whispered, using her voice. "Why the
fuck would I tell anyone, and beside you can't get sick from being blown.
See I have a rubber ready."

"Listen," he said, holding her shoulders, looking at her," I can make this
easy or hard. I can help you get into rehab, and make sure you don't do any
more time, or I can walk out the fucken door and let the bulls have their
way with you."

"You mean it. Get me in rehab. No time."

Yes, to all of it. No offense, he said, I love getting blown, but not
today. Got it. I want to make sure the thing that did this to your friend
gets stopped. Next time it could be your ass."

Locking the door had made Rae more nervous, and also cynical. Maybe he
wanted a freebie. I hate that, Rae thought. Cops are perverts. They get
rough themselves, like to fuck you in the ass, and don't give a shit if
they offer to spit there first.

"Don't worry," Mann said, "I'm not going to cut you. Answer the fucken
questions and we can get the fuck out of here.

I've been off shift for two hours. Wife's waiting."

Rae was surprised by which the Detective returned to a slightly gentler
approach. He put her at ease for a moment. She stayed quiet and listened
thinking he is good looking, got lots of fucken ladies.

"I knew Hannah for about a year," Rae told the Detective. "Think she came
from upstate. New York.

"Could be. Do you know the name of her pimp?"

"We didn't have one. Shared a room at that Palisadia Motel since late
February, no early March. She was gone the first week of April. She did
some heavy shit. She spent big bucks on shit. Must have been selling it. No
way she could have come up with three hundred for shit for both of us. She
did hitch hike along Route 46, and give blowjobs to the horny truckers
looking for sleaze. We didn't bring 'em back to our room. Never. Took 'em
elsewhere."

"Did you know she was pregnant?"

"Yes. Wouldn't get an abortion. Planned to go on welfare. Her ticket out of
here, she said. Was going for rehab next week. But you known next week is
always never."

Mann looked up, disgusted. Rae was scratching her ass, revealing two
pimples and a large scar from a burn on her inner thigh.

Rae liked showing her cunt. Most of the time, she didn't care if they were
cops or not. She moved her legs apart wider so he had to see it. He may
have been a straight arrow, but he didn't yell at her to stop.

While he talked, Mann couldn't keep his eyes off Rae's scar" Your Guys are
missing the show," Rae said and nodding towards the door, inserting the
heavy fake nail of her middle finger into her cunt, opening the lips. You
like she asked?" You got some pull around here, keeping them out?

Mann looked away pretending to be bored. "I'm just an old American boy," he
said. "Like pussy. You want to show me it. I need to interview you. If it
makes you talk more, truthfully or not, then I'll watch you play with
yourself. Really, it doesn't do that much. You got a nice one, but my wife
is clean, well build and has a great moving ass."

"You're a lucky fuck."

"Now, let's stop this bullshit. Did she tell you the name of the father?

Did Josh beat her up? Did he fuck you up?"

"We like it -- asshole."

Rae grew silent after her answer and stopped smiling. "How the fuck would
she know? You guys think you're smarted than the streets. You think you
fucken know it all. Shit you are just another pimp selling different shit
cleaner."

Rae stopped being provocative and sat carefully in the chair to keep her
ass fully covered. She obviously didn't like what the cop had said.

"You got some fucken attitude," she said under her breath. "Besides I am
fucken HIV positive you ass. You should have let me fuck you. I hate you
fucken cops. All you do is make me want to live longer to really fuck you
all up, but dying is all I got."

"I just want to get the man who fucked up your friend. I don't give a fuck
about you or what you did or who you suck."

"You're right. I did it to myself. I deserve it all, and when Josh beats me
I want it to cut it all away. I want to feel free of the skin and the pain.

I wanted to hold it up and wallow in it. Yes, I was so fucken careful. I'm
on the pill. Didn't fuck without a condom, and I never fucked smack heads.
Didn't want AIDS. Now, I am going to fucken die. Shit, the creeps on
death's row live longer. Why do I give a shit about her or you or anyone?

Go fuck yourself, but I will tell you, because the creep who fucked her up
should gag on gas.

"Hannah had a new boy friend. Smart good guy. Not a hustler. He loved her
ass. His name was Harry or something like that. Claimed she knew him from
traveling near Harrisburg."

Suddenly Rae stopped talking and watched the Detective write what she had
said down in a special red notebook unlike any of the other files and
documents strewn on his desk.

"Don't you use a fucken tape recorder," Rae mocked. Glad to see you writing
it all down, probably shit. You could never believe anything Hannah said.
OK one thing; she loved the kid she was carrying. Did you know she started
hustling when she was 13?"

Continuing with Hannah's story, Hannah liked Pennsylvania.  Told me that.
Liked to fuck PA truckers. She never used protection. I told her she was
crazy. Now, look at us. She had her head bashed in and I got AIDS."

"Ever have a party with her," Mann asked"

"You mean a group fuck? For real or for pay?"

"Yes. Doesn't matter. Real or fake? You tell me"

"Sure. Does that turn you on? Want to watch your wife get fucked by a
ten-inch brother I know. He is so thick he breaks me open."

"How have you lived so long? I want to get your girlfriend's killer, and
you insult my wife. You fucken insect. Mann pulled his piece from its strap
and pointed it straight at Rae's mouth.

Suddenly, he realized he had been had. "You fucken cunt pushing my
buttons."

Putting the piece back, Mann was quiet for a minute. Rea suddenly asked
him. "Do it a lot?"

"What the fuck you talking about," Mann, looking close and hard at Rae
said. "Make an ass out of yourself," Rae replied. "Do you do it often?"
Getting control back, Mann asked Rae. "You said it. Now tell me before I
kick the crap out of you, were you and Hannah queer?"

"Dicks are all alike. Like Lezzies, do you? What to watch us? Fuck you. Got
nothing more to say."

Rae cried. "I never cry. You fuck. Sure, we did it. Drugs too. Anything,
but she never told me much about the guy. She did say, she knew it was his.

Wasn't fucking anyone else then, she said. Said his name was Harry or
something."

"You say he wasn't her pimp?"

"No, we didn't have one I fucken said."

"Who is Josh then?"

"Some fucken loser we traded sex for dope."

"Don't shit me."

"My last pimp got busted for drugs, or was killed, and Hannah never had
one. She wanted to get clean for her baby. Went to the clinic, was going
sign herself into rehab, but she was underage, and didn't want to be sent
home when it was done. Didn't want to lose the baby. Wanted to take care of
it."

"Stop this crap. Who the fuck do you think I am your fucken priest?"

"I'd take her when she disappeared. Really. Had her convinced it was best.
Do the right thing for your kid, I said to her. I had been scraped out
twice. Also had a kid when I was thirteen. My fucken brother's if you
believe it. He was fucking me since I was eleven. He was nineteen when the
cops got him for drugs. Doing ten years at Trenton State."

"What happened to your kid?"

"Mom raising her. She'd be ten now, no, twelve."

"You mean ten, don't you? Your sheet says you're twenty-seven. Arrested ten
times for drugs, and fourteen for prostitution. All misdemeanors. No heavy
shit.

"True. I never sell dope. "

"Good. My partner said he found enough crack inside your mattress to bust
you for dealing. Here's the search warrant."

"Yours right? Did you write at your typewriter or did it come with the
badge. "You're full of shit and you know it."

"Doesn't matter if you are guilty this time or not, this next bust will
make up for all the ones you escaped."

"Yes, but now I know you are a fucken scum bag liar.

Right? Right? Answer these fucken questions and cover up that sick looking
cunt of yours. You should clean it better. Looks like you got mushrooms
growing inside," Mann agitated told Rae, putting his hands on her
shoulders, digging his nails into the skin.

"The shit's not mine. You're lying. Rae was upset. "Shit," she said,
pulling her short skirt down trying to keep covered. "I don't know the
fucker's name."

"Who's that," Mann asked getting in her face "Fuck will kill my ass," Rae
looked down.

"Give him up or I'll lose you for a fucken week in the system at County. No
fucken sugar candy for you. You'll puke it cold."

"His name could have been Jimmy Caine from somewhere in Pennsylvania.
Hannah told me he was older, had been to Nam, was a weird dude, but never
hurt anyone," and she loved him, she said. He knows I suck dick and he
still wants to know me, she told me. She admitted he was too old, but what
the fuck, "You must know him," Rae realized she had given Henry up said,
"Fuck no," and she covered her eyes with her folded hands.

"Ever fuck him," Mann asked, not letting up, but looking out the window.

"Getting bored with this shit," Mann said to himself. And when I get
pissed, I will piss all over you, do you get that, you cunt."

Rae picked up on Mann's distraction. "No, I said."

"You and Hannah and whoever the fuck else partied with the creep, right?"

Before Rae could answer, Detective Mann had opened an envelope and dropped
three Polaroid photographs of Rae, Hannah, and some older guy, having a
picnic near sown by the Palisade Interstate Park. Couldn't miss the sign.

Hannah was sitting on his lap. Rae was sitting at his feet, and the man
rested his bare feet in Rae's lap.

"This the guy," Mann asked?

"You tell me. You seem to know every fuckin thing, sure looks like we do.
What the fuck does it matter anyway. She's dead, and unless you think I
had."

"Maybe we do. We found the photographs at your place."

"Should never have come in," Rae was starting to get angry.

"Good thing, you fucken did."

"The dope's not mine."

"You're right. I know that," the cop half smiled.

"No, I lied. His real name is Henry," Rae said. "He also goes by the name
Caine and drives a cab for Hudson Street. Nice guy. Smart. Sure we fucked
him. I don't know if he's the father. I think he may be. He disappeared
from her life a week before Hannah was kidnapped."

"You must know him. After all, he's a Fort Lee cab driver."

"He came in like you did."

"Got him in jail?"

"Can't say?"

"Where is he?"

"Why the fuck you care?"

"Anything else, Mann asked.

"You can go."

"Just like that," Rae was startled. "What about the drugs?"

"There was none. Just wanted to see what you would say. You need a ride.
Get a cop to take you home."

"Nothing is free from Dicks," Rae spat back. "Don't think so. Don't want to
blow a cop for a two mile cab ride."

There's a pay phone by the door out, Mann said looking at his watch. The
Detective was already gone. He knew that the taxi guy didn't kill the girl.
Now, he knew that Josh didn't do it. "All this for shit," he said aloud.

"Can I use the phone," Rae asked, holding it in her hand.

"There's a pay phone downstairs, use that. Public can't use these phone
regulations. Sorry."

"Fuck you, Rae said, walking out the door letting it close easy, almost as
an after thought.

Detective David Mann had listened, and reviewed what he knew watching Rae
speak and gesture but giving up nothing.  Almost a waste of time, he
thought. Guess she loves to show off, as he remembering how Rae had hopped
up and down, slowly, nervously on the desk, trying to cover up her bare
snatch, not asking for a shirt, or anything, wanted to expose it. Fucken
slut, Mann thought, as reviewed his notes"

Hannah Kay Coffield:
DOD November 4, 1990

"Hannah Kay Coffield, Fairfield, Pennsylvania, 15, seven months pregnant
had thin emaciated, tender death camp arms," Mann wrote. The girl was HIV
negative, bludgeoned; she had thick viscous tongue, abruptly terminated.

Sexual games present as always, her life involved with honored sin, the
camp followers, rescued by great philanthropic Dominicans; she's discarded
this day; her unconscious skin placed by the murderer in a cardboard box in
a gas station bathroom; her head had been cut from her body. Autopsy
records show she died when some person or thing crushed her throat.

A retired Bronx produce market truck driver who lived in Fort Lee reported
her murder. His dog found the head of the girl and was playing with it like
a ball.

The older man asked why did it happen, you could see she had a beautiful
face even after all that happened. The man shouted for help, and waiting to
volunteer his testimony. This was not the first homicide he had reported.

Maybe he's got a kink for fake crimes to cover up his own crimes. No,
concluding, he didn't do it. It would be too obvious. Mann wrote in the
margin of his report that there was no possible connection.

Detective Mann would never admit it. He might be proven wrong if he
accepted that he could be mistaken.



****

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