Date: Mon, 24 Jul 2006 16:36:41 +0000 From: Farrell McNulty Subject: Detectives Log - Chapter 68 This is Detectives Log - Chapter 68 - Kiss of the Crimnefighter, Part Two CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT Kiss of the Crimefighter Part 2 WHEN WE LEFT OUR HEROES, THEY WERE BOTH SHOT WITH MACHINE GUN FIRE IN PURSUIT OF A SUSPICIOUS CHARACTER. IN SUSTAINING THEIR WOUNDS, THEY LOST CONTROL OF THE CAR..... MIKE - Getting popped in the chest, I lost control of the car - I had no choice but to let it crash into a dumpster in a nearby park. I'd swerved into one to avoid crashing into any traffic that may have been around. The car finally stopped. Thank God we had a warranty. I was about to call AAA, but first, I wanted to see about Eddie, who was sitting with his head back, gasps and moans coming from his sweet, tender lips, his face contorted in agony. I needed to get him out of the car and into some fresh air. I got out, and started to walk around the front of the car to get to his door, when I stopped, was about to fall over, clutching my chest as this stabbing pain overcame me. I clutched my chest with one hand, felt no wet spots, felt no blood running down my body or on my hands, so I reasoned my bullet-proof tee-shirt had stopped the ammo, and I was right - I'd felt a few chunks of something inside my clothes. I leaned on the car with the other hand to support my weight, and then, after a few seconds, I regained my sea-legs and went to see about Eddie. EDDIE - Holy slam-dunk! My chest felt like it was on fire - I was hurtin' so bad I couldn't even move my hands to clutch my wounds. I just sat there, paralyzed, at least in my head, it felt like it. I sat with my head back, eyes closed, continually grunting and moaning, 'cuz it hurt like I can't describe. It's like I was beaten to a pulp in a gangfight. Gosh, this was horrible. I heard my car door open. It was Mike. MIKE - I opened the door and took hold of Eddie - I tapped his face a little just to rouse him. He was still alive, thank God. I lifted his arm to put around me as I'd carry him out of the car, but he let out this scream, so I scooped him up, let his arms hang by their side, and picked him up that way and gently lay him on the ground. I ripped his shirt open - it was already riddled with holes, anyway, and I felt his tee-shirt, and there was also some chunks of metal. Thank God, the bullets were stopped from penetrating his chest. He was gonna make it. I guessed it was the impact of getting hit so hard so fast must've winded him real bad. I gently removed his tee-shirt and saw only a couple of marks, no bullet wounds, no bleeding, his skin wasn't even broken. I gently rubbed his chest. Instead of groaning and grunting, he was now smiling. "Oh, yeah, that's good, that's real good. Aw, that feels wonderful." As well it should - it was my healing touch. I bent down to kiss his injured area, and he was starting to feel better. "How ya doin', kid? Yer gonna be okay." "Aw, I think I am already." "Do ya think you can sit up a little?" "Yeah, lemme try." EDDIE - I sat up and it still hurt a bit, but I wasn't gonna let this get to me. As all of us crimefighters know, ya gotta play through the pain, and I was gonna, and I did. "(gasp) Holy shell-casings, Mike, did ya get hit?" "I did, but it didn't get through. The shirt stopped it, like it did for you." "Gosh, what a relief, I was really scared." "It's gonna be allright, kiddo. Thank God we had the shirts, and thank God we have a warranty to get this baby fixed, and thank God we escaped what coulda been a terrible tragedy, just like always." "Yeah, just like always. Ya know, God is really smilin' down on us all the time. No matter what goes on, we always bounce back together." "Cuz we're good guys, kiddo. We're good guys." "What now, though, Boss-Man?" "Well, we gotta get this thing in the shop, and just take a breath or two back at the house. We'll get these guys, don't you worry about that." MIKE - We take care of business. It wasn't easy, having to call the tow truck, then taking a cab back to our place, but before we knew it, it'd just be another memory - like it is now. We get back home and spot an envelope, addressed to us, which was slipped under the door. I pick it up. "Watch it, Boss-man, it could be a letter bomb." "Good point." We slip on our protective gear - goggles, gloves, and we change into new bullet-proof tee-shirts just in case the shards hit us in the torso. I slowly peel back the flap on the envelope and empty the contents, which was only a photo with a note that read: FOR YOUR INVESTIGATION. "Holy cold creeps - someone knows we're on the case - but who?" "Look. This is the church's return address." We looked at the photo and we were shocked. At first glance, it seems as if someone had caught Fr. Stephens in the act. Eddie was overwhelmed, "holy hoodwinks. How could he do such a thing? He blatantly lied to us. What the heck is his game? And why are you still staring at it?" There was something about it I couldn't take my eyes away from. I kept staring and I muttered, "disturbing..." "Oh, you bet it's disturbing. All that time I spent around him as a kid, and he could've gone for me...unless he didn't wanna touch me because I was already USED GOODS!" Eddie threw a couple of punches at a wall and was shouting. He let his emotions overcome his sense of duty and I couldn't stand back and let this happen. He was letting himself disappear in this - I thought about calling him off the case, but he's my partner and I never want to take his work away, and I sure as hell wasn't going to let him throw it away, either. I grabbed the kid and he started to wrestle a bit, "Mike, please..." Then I surrounded him, and kissed him - I took his hands and put them on me, I made him feel my coat, the one I always wear on the beat. It seemed a drastic move, but I had to reach in and grab his inner Robin, his inner detective. It was the Kiss of the Crimefighter and he needed that because I needed him. I shout at him, "Eddie - it's not the preacher - it's not him!" "Well, who the heck is it, then, huh? Who is it?" "Take a closer look. Something looks a little odd about the jawline. We're gonna blow this photo up." Blow it up, we did. We scanned the image, saved it to a computer program and increased the size, sharpening, descreening, the whole shot. I grinned that shit-eating grin I always grin when I'm right about something, and by God, was I ever! "It's a picture of a picture on top of a picture." "Of course, I see what you mean. Someone took a picture of Fr. Stephens' face and stuck it on whoever's ravaging that poor kid." Eddie fell silent for a second. "And to think I had Father tried, convicted and hung just on the strength of a blurry photo. Gosh, I feel miserable." Eddie leaned on his arms on a table, and I walked over and put my hands on his shoulders from behind. "That's all right, kiddo - anyone else woulda thought the same thing." "But I'm not anyone else - I shoulda been a better gumshoe than that - this guy was the greatest to me back then and I just turn on him." I grinned and said, "Nah, only for a second - I timed ya! Now, ready to hit the church and kick some major ass?" "Thought you'd never ask! Let's hit it!" "Good, 'cuz I just got an idea - we stake it out for a while, go kinda slow, see? Sorta infiltrate the establishment, if you will." "Sounds cool." "We'll set up a sting with the Deacon. You're gonna spend some time around the kiddies, check 'em out, see if they'll talk." "That's cool - I'm pretty good with kids - but what's my disguise, am I some sorta school counselor or somethin'?" "Not quite - I remember you tellin' me that lack of funds forced the school to close down, and the students were scattered to other schools around the area." "Holy cutbacks!" "Exactly. So, in addition to kids who show up for church events and the like, there are also altar boys on Sundays - that's where you come in." "What? Mike, I'm too tall - I can't pass for a kid." "You've seen a lot of overgrown 13 year-olds before, right?" "Well, yeah, but...." It was fun watching his face change expressions, ranging from confusion to utter bewilderment. "...an Altar boy? How'm I gonna fit in?" "We'll set it up that you're the rather...athletic type - took a lotta vitamins in your time - pretty good shape - hopin' to get a football scholarship for high school. Also, when you're snoopin' around, be sure to take my digi-cam. When ya snap a photo, just press this button here, it'll automatically send the image to our e-mail address and I can monitor stuff from here." "Holy mission control. Just hope I can pull it off, 'cuz...what if I get found out?" "Not a chance in hell, man, it'll all be set up with the Deacon." "Do you think he can be trusted?" "Come on, kiddo, he's a man of the cloth - if ya can't trust a....." Suddenly remembering the nature of the case we're working, I felt like an idiot. "If the wrong people get wind of me, and my cover's blown, they might take some - - pretty heavy action." "That, my boy, is a chance we'll have to take. We gotta go in there and get Father back his life...while possibly paying the price of our own." Eddie rubbed his fist, "Right, Boss!" "We must away! We gotta get to the church ON TIME!" CAN OUR HEROES PULL THIS OFF? EDDIE POSING AS AN ALTAR BOY TO INFILTRATE THE ESTABLISHMENT, AS IT WERE? WILL HE BE THE NEXT VICTIM OF THE MYSTERIOUS BACK-DOOR MAN? KEEP READING ON, FOLKS. IT ONLY GETS WEIRDER FROM HERE!