Sting

Who Killed Marnie Thomas? - Chapter 3

The afternoon rush hour had just kicked into full swing when Baldaire finally returned to the Hive. The ever-present hum of the city was amplified as cabbies honked at the commuters scurrying home from their nine-to-fives.

"The Manhattan-wide tour of internet safety is officially over, I need many, many hours to recuperate" Baldaire remarked, ending the day as it began - slumped at her desk with her eyes closed.

Parrilla emerged from his office as soon as he saw her enter. "Hey. I heard about Greggo-Eggo. How's he holding up?"

"He's not awake yet. I'm sure he'll be fine. He's tough." Parrilla looked at her doubtfully. "Well, he's not, he's more feminine than I am, but he refuses to die before me so he can have a reggae band play at my funeral."

"Question." Said Malina. "Why are you still Eli Baldaire if you're married?"

"Because Elizabeth Baldaire sounds a hell of a lot cooler than Elizabeth Eggert." Brewster replied in her place.

"Khalil!" Malina exclaimed.

"No, he's right." She sips her coffee. "What can I say, I'm a jerk."

"Hey, you look after him, I like Greggo-Eggo, he brings me wine at Easter, all you and el rascacielos over there bring me are headaches." Parrilla declared.

"Damn, 'el rascacielos', that's hot, I'mma make that shit my tag." Brewster replied, jotting down on a Post-It.

"Oh, cap, did a girl come here asking for me? Or leave a message, anything?" Baldaire inquired.

"No, I don't think so." He retired to his office.

"So, Phil, what's your case?" Brewster asked, leaning over his desk preparing for one of her infamous Leo Lincoln rants.

"Come to TPR and find out." She teased.

"Lincoln gon' be there? That shit's a deal-breaker."

"Hm, sadly. But I smell a raid. Which means a coin flip between me and Daisy. Which is a coinflip between me in jeans and me in a mini-skirt."

"Say no more." Brewster hopped over his desk.

"Men are pigs." Said Malina as she watched Brewster cha-cha-slide into the tactical planning room.

"Not all of them." Baldaire again was spinning her ring around her finger, deep in thought.

"You coming?"

"Oh. Yeah." They both walked into the TPR, closing the door behind them.

. . .

Madison Avenue, East Harlem.

Marnie strolled through the city on her way home. It was unusually quiet, especially considering the time of day, but she was too pre-occupied by the voice of Estelle playing from her earphones to realize. "Let's go on the subway, take me to your hood, I never been to Brooklyn and I'd like to see what's good." she sung under her breath.

Suddenly, a red hatchback came barreling round the block, and sounded a bellowing 'honk' as it pulled up beside her. Her earphones fell out as she jumped, startled. The window rolled down.

"Are you following me?" She asked.

The only reply she received was the 'click click' of a cocking gun...

. . .

The detectives, Nietzsche, Baldaire and Brewster, were sat around the long table of the tactical planning room as Lincoln briefed them on their case. The room was dim, and the light was deep blue. Long range guns and AK47's were hung on the walls, displayed like trophies. On one side of the wall hung an American flag with the words 'Fidelis ad mortem', meaning 'faithful unto death', written directly beneath it, while the other wall was taken up by a digital screen.