The Jester's Court

Chapter 1: Fat Guy in a Spandex Suit

"Wait... What?"

I looked at the traffic cam footage again. Sure as shit, there was a fat guy runnin' around in a rather disturbin' harlequin spandex catsuit with some funky-ass hat on his head. With platform boots. And a mask. And a pair of bolt cutters.

"Ha, ha, very funny, guys. I know it's April Fool's Day, but, really? This is kinda over the top, dontcha think?" I said, givin' my partner my best you're a fuckin' idiot look.

"Smith!" I heard that voice bellow. "Get in here!"

I sighed. I popped the two aspirin I'd fished out of my desk to try and banish the headache I'd had all day. I guess I had a little too much to drink last night. Usually, I held my liquor well, but we'd all gone out to shoot some pool. Maybe I had a few more when I got home. I don't really remember.

"Here we go," I mumbled under my breath as I made my way to the Lieutenant's office. It was basically a box with a door and a window. At least she had a window. And a door. And walls... real walls. The rest of us chumps had cubicles.

Do you know what it's like tryin' to do police work in a cubicle? It's not bad, until you have an interview with a victim or a victim's family. Then, you have to take them into "The Room", which is actually pretty nice, but lacks everythin' you need in order to be efficient at your job. It's unprofessional to have to get up every time you need a pen, or a new pad of paper... because, heaven forbid, they put a damned computer in the room, or actually give you funds for a laptop or a tablet or, hell, even a crappy iPad.

At any rate, that's what I thought about every time I made the trek to the Lieutenant's office 'cause, as I said, it was an awesome box with a window and a door... and bloody computer! I was bettin' she even had an iPad.

"Yeah, Boss?" I said, tryin' to be chipper. If I wasn't, I got my head chewed off for bringin' "negative vibes" into the work space. Don't get me wrong, I thought the Lieutenant did an amazin' job. I just wished she weren't... well, a hippy in a uniform.

How in the hell did she get into this profession? Why would she choose this profession? I never had the guts to find out. Maybe the next time we all got drunk at a precinct holiday party, I'd ask. Or, maybe not.

She was young to be a Lieutenant, but she'd worked hard for it. I know because she used to be my partner. But, she went above and beyond, honestly, and I couldn't begrudge her the promotion, to be sure. And, despite her... "quirks" we'll call them, she was actually pretty effective in her job. Couldn't fault her for that.

She, unlike me, was only in her mid-thirties. I, on the other hand, was middle-aged, pushin' fifty. She always wore her brunette hair up off her collar, like she did back when she was in uniform. She didn't wear a lot of makeup, that I could tell anyway, but she always looked nice. Not hot nice, but professional nice.

She also had a much better figure. I think she still worked out. How she found the time, I have no idea. I certainly didn't seem to have any, nor did I have the energy. I used to, back when I was in uniform and was expected to chase after criminals. But, I'd let it slide over the years.

"So, you've seen the footage, yeah?" she asked.

"Of... the guy?" I offered, not totally sure of which footage she's talkin' about.

"Yes, Smith, the guy. The guy in the outfit that looks like last Halloween's rejects."

"Yeah, I've seen it." I said. "Why?"

Damn. I shouldn't have asked that. It made it seem like I was actually interested in whatever case it was that the fat jester was involved with. I wasn't. I swear.