Detective Jorge T. Vinos On The Case

Mark plopped his cock from Sarah's sticky cunt at the knock on the front door and jumped out of bed. Wrapping himself in one of his mother's blankets, he sauntered down the stairs and opened the door. On the stoop was a tall, old man - 40 maybe? - in a shapeless suit that did nothing to hide his protruding paunch. Beyond the man, parked at the curb, was an unmarked police car conspicuously marked with what seemed like 500 antennas and a series of obvious lights in the front and back windows.

"Mark Dennison?" said the man, the salt-and-pepper stubble of his unshaven face doing nothing to hide his two chins.

"Yeah-"

With a flourish, the man pulled out a badge - tugging several times on his hidden suit pocket to dislodge it - and shoved it in Mark's face. "Detective Jorge T. Vinos!"

Mark stepped back, a calm falling over him and softening once and for all his spermy cock. "Yeah?"

The detective placed his badge in his back pocket after several malign attempts to replace it in his interior jacket pocket and cocked an eyebrow. "I'm investigating the disappearances of one Mister Dick Cox and one Miss Dill Doublepound. Do those names ring a bell, Mister Dennison?"

"Um, yeah, they're my friends. I didn't know-"

"May I come in, Mister Dennison? I have a few questions for you-"

"Sure-"

Mark turned and plopped on the couch, crossing his legs under the bundled blanket, fully covered so that all the detective could see of him was his blonde, spiky head. He nodded to the armchair on the other side of the coffee table and watched as the detective took his seat and brought from his interior jacket pocket - after several pulls and a few minutes' huffing - a small notebook and a purple gel pen.

"Yeah," said Mark. "I didn't even know they were missing. When were they-"

"I'll ask the questions, Mister Dennison, if you don't mind," said the detective, holding up a hand of short, stubby fingers.

Mark looked back at the man, into the man's runny brown eyes that were shaded by two of the most enormous, black eyebrows he'd ever seen on a person. He half-expected them to come to life, jump off the man's face, and attack him. He looked away to prevent himself from laughing in the man's face. "All right. Whatever."

Before the slovenly detective could ask his first question, the stairs creeked with a stomping running and Sarah was seated on the couch next to Mark, wrapped in her own blanket. "Mark, who is this?" she asked.

"This is Jorge-"

"Detective Jorge T. Vinos!" said the detective.

"Detective Jorge T. Vinos!" said Mark. "By the way, what are you, Mexican?"

"What?"

"Your heritage. Are you Mexican? Spanish?"

"Neither. I'm American. Why do you ask?"

"Well, your name - it's Spanish-"

"No, it's not-"

"Yes, it is. Jorge is Spanish for-"

"Nope-"

"Yes-"

"Uh uh-"

"Uh huh-"

"What the fuck is he doing here?" Sarah broke in.

"Wait a minute, ma'am, there's no need for foul language. I could take you in for disorderly-"

"Shut the fuck up. You're in my house, asshole. And I could take you in for raping me-"

Mark giggled as he watched the detective look down into his bulge-less crotch and shudder. "Mom, he's here to ask about Dick and Dill. They're supposedly missing-"

"They're not missing-"

"Excuse me, ma'am, but they are indeed missing. We received two missing person reports last week from their respective families. My investigation into this serious matter has determined that they were in a relationship and that your son" -the detective pointed at Mark with his tiny notebook- "Mister Mark Dennison was a mutual acquaintance of both of these young people."

"And?" said Sarah.

"And I would like to ask him a few questions."

Sarah looked at Mark, who was grinning, then looked at the detective. "All right. But I'll have you know that I'm his counsel and will end this interview at any time I deem fit-"

"You're not a lawyer-"

"I don't have to be-"

The detective looked away and cleared his throat. Then opened his little notebook. He looked up at Mark quickly, his right eyebrow cocked once more. "Mister Dennison-"

"Yeah?"

"I'll ask the questions, Mister Dennison!" The detective grunted slightly.

"What was that?"

"What was what?"

"That noise you made-"

"What noise? I didn't make any noise-"

"Yes, you did. It's, like, the tenth time you've done it-"

"I don't know what you're talking about-"

"Yes, you do-"

"Nope-"

Mark eyed the man for a few minutes, watching as the man twitched nervously in his seat, his throat gesticulating as if he had words that wanted to escape his lungs but that he was doing everything he could to hold back. "You've got Tourette's, don't you?"

"Nope-"

"Yes, you do-"

"I don't know what you're talking about-"

"Yes, you do-"

"Nope." The man looked back into Mark's eyes and held his stare - until he finally blinked. With a sigh, he sat up straight and cocked his eyebrow again. "Mister Dennison-"

"Yeah?"

"I'll ask the questions, Mister Dennison. When was the last time you saw Mister Dick Cox-"

"Oh, God, I don't know. A month or so ago, I guess-"

"A date, Mister Dennison. I need a date and a time-"

"God, how am I supposed to remember that?"

"Hmm." The detective scribbled in his notebook, his purple gel pen working so furiously that his belly jiggled.

"What are you writing?" said Sarah.

"Oh, nothing," sang the detective. "I just find it interesting that Mister Dennison knows what names are Spanish and what names aren't and that he knows what Tourette's is, but he can't, for the life of him, remember the date and the time he last saw Mister Dick Cox. Very interesting."

Sarah guffawed. "You're kidding, right?"

"I never kid, ma'am-" He turned back to Mark. "How long have you known that Mister Cox has been missing?"

"Um, you just told me, like, fifteen minutes ago-"

"Ah ha!" The detective accentuated his exclamation with a flick of his purple gel pen. "According to Mister and Missus Cox, Mister Dick Cox has not been seen for a month! Are you trying to tell me, Mister Dennison, that your friend has been missing for a month and you did not realize it? You seem very unconcerned about the whereabouts of your friend-"

"Dude-"

"Detective Jorge T. Vinos!"

"Detective Vinos-"

"Detective Jorge T. Vinos!"

Mark sighed. He looked at Sarah, who rolled her eyes. "Detective Jorge T. Vinos, Dick and I are friends, yeah. School friends. We go weeks without seeing or talking to each other. Especially now since it's winter break. We haven't been in school since mid-December-"

The detective snapped shut his notebook with a loud pop and placed it on the coffee table after several futile attempts to replace it in his interior jacket pocket. He re-capped his purple gel pen and slid it into his front pants pocket. He sighed. "Well, this is obviously going nowhere. You're stone-walling-"

"Hey," said Sarah. "Leave my son alone. I don't take well to you coming in here and casting aspersions on my boy. Mark's a good boy. He goes to college full-time, gets excellent grades, and he works full-time-"

"And he was in prison on a felony drug charge, as were you some time ago, ma'am-"

"Yeah, he was. Because somebody in his car had drugs on him and Mark took the fall because his friend was black and he knew his friend would get railroaded yet again by the racist justice system you work for-"

"Hold on, now-"

"No, you hold on. You came into my house with this bullshit. And now I expect you to leave with this bullshit before I call your superiors and have you removed."

The detective sat back in his chair, looking around the living room, his hands visibly shaking. A slight grunt slipped from his throat again. He looked quickly at Mark, then away. "Do you mind if I have a look around?" he said.

"Do you have a search warrant?" said Sarah.

"No-"

"Then you can't look around-"

The detective tapped his fingers several times on his chubby legs. He looked at Sarah. "May I have a drink of water?"

"No-"

"No?"

"No-"

"I can't even have a glass of water?"

"We don't have any water-"

"Yes, you do-"

"Nope-"

The detective sighed. "Well, can I use the bathroom?"

Sarah glared at the detective. "Number one or number two?"

"Number one-"

"Okay. It's right through that door. But you better be quick-"

As the detective shut the door behind him, Sarah grabbed his notebook off the coffee table and inched closer to Mark. They thumbed through all the pages quickly, surprised to find that the only markings on any page were purple stick figures with breasts and penises. Sarah threw the notebook back on the coffee table when she heard the bathroom doorknob twist, the tattered thing sliding off onto the floor where it lay open on a picture of two stick figures humping.

The detective bent over to pick up the notebook, closed it, and slipped it into his back pocket after several unsuccessful attempts at slipping it into his interior jacket pocket. He pulled out his wallet and handed Sarah and Mark each a business card with his name and number on it. "Remember, I am Detective Jorge T. Vinos, and I am on the case. You'll be hearing from me again."

The detective let himself out, grunting softly but furiously, and pulled the front door closed behind him. At which Sarah and Mark laughed uproariously. As they heard the marked unmarked police car pull off, its siren blaring for a brief second, then going silent permanently, they un-blanketed themselves and fell into a deep, giggling kiss.

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