Gaslight (4) in Gaslight

Kate struggled a bit getting the keys in the door to the brownstone with the box of files under her arm. The lock in the old door had it’s quirks and Kate was eager to get inside. Plans were to be hatched and she wanted to get in her real working clothes. Eventually the door surrendered to the key and Kate felt the warmth of the entryway.

The brownstone was long and narrow with high ceilings and original wood for it’s windows and doorways. Kate had no standards when it came to fashion but took pride in the historic beauty of her home. Furnishings of antiques might bring question to how a young single woman on a detectives salary could afford such nice things in her home.

Kate set the box of files on the old beaten table pushed against the wall that served as her desk. Her handguns also were shed and set there strategically as there were clear firing lines down the hall and through the living room to the kitchen area. All weapons remained loaded unless they were being cleaned. Safeties were off at all times.

Kate went to her bedroom and striped down to nude She dug out her favorite Spartan tee shirt from her college days and went to the kitchen to pour her first of several bourbons. One ice cube per glass to bring a soothing taste to each swallow but not enough to dilute it’s special effect.

Like every other night Kate picked up her revolver and walked to the back door overlooking the narrow and unkept yard. It was fenced with an old garage which fed into to the alleyway dissecting the block. She would open the wooden door and stand in front of the glass screen door. Looking at her reflection in glass she lifted her shirt exposing herself to anyone who might be looking. Every night she hoped someone would be lurking in the dark to see her. Every night she would feel the heat between her legs and she fantasized someone rushing the door to force himself in on her. Every night she dreamed how she would put a bullet right through his face in an explosion of blood and brains. Like every other night she eventually would give in to her disappointment.

Kate walked over to the desk where the box of files sat but picked up the picture which has been dearest to her heart. It was set in an garish pink frame with “sisters” in a childlike cursive across the top. Kate whispered,

“You were such a priss little sis. Such a faggy little priss. How we ever came out of the same hole is beyond me. Twin sister my ass.”

Kate set down the picture and spoke to her absent sister.

“Well, Kell, How about we find ourselves the next sacrificial lamb. Sooner or later we will hit the jackpot. For now it’s eeany, meany, miney, mo.

Kate reached in the box and pulled out a random file. She walked to the kitchen to get herself another deep glass of bourbon. Standing at the kitchen counter she flipped the file open and checked the criminal allegation left unproved.

“Looks like we have a winner, Kell. Got a husband who beat his wife with forcible rape on the side. The wife is now refusing to testify and the prosecutor won’t drop it hoping for a change of heart.” Guess the PA is waiting for the next beating to change wifey’s mind. Let’s see if we can save some court time and move this along a bit.”

Kate dropped the file on the floor and stared at the wall thinking murder. Kate wanted to walk out the door. She needed to taste death now.

Kate pulled her tee shirt off and walked out the back door. Like most nights when she didn’t pass out in bed or on the couch Kate walked out to the tall grass and laid down. Right arm perpendicular to her body and left arm over her head in an upside down L. She pulled her right foot up to her knee laying her leg flat to the ground making the shape of a four with her other leg straight. Staring at the sky she said,

“Never alone Kell. Never alone.”

Last updated November 25, 2014