BULLET-CITY

Part-13

     Imma Prier was a woman whose nose was as big as her will to snoop. She sat down lazily onto her rubber tube pillow with a large plop, wiping old toast crumbs off her light blue floral muu muu night gown. She was an 88-year old retired librarian who had never married, probably because she had done background checks on all the men who she had ever dated.
She turned on The Bob and Ike show, the new popular investigation and talk show, as she fixed a pink foam curler in her white hair. The TV showed two men sitting behind a desk. One wearing a brown leisure suit and the other...a, well, a normal suit.

     "Whoo-wee, Bob, it sure has been an eventful day," said the man in the brown leisure suit.

     "You said it, Ike!"

     Ike turned to the camera and raised one eyebrow as he went into his deep 'news casting voice.'

     "Three high city officials along with a security guard and several pedestrians were found dead today on the fourth floor of the Bank of the Bay: Credit Union parking garage. One of the deceased men has been identified as Miles Cove, the long-standing right-hand man to Mayor Kobe."

     "Now apparently there was one survivor, Drake Ramirez the mayor's accountant and city treasurer," chimed Bob.

     "That's right Bob, I believe the paramedics were patching him up and were sending him to a nearby trauma center. Our sources say he's still in shock and unable to speak at this time. I'm sure we'll catch up with him a little later, but right now we have a little surprise for our audiences out there."

     "And what would that be Bob?"

     "Well apparently the police are losing control over the situation and had to call in the FBI to investigate."

     "We have live coverage on the ground with our one and only Mary Lui. Okay, Miss Lui, give us the scoop," said Bob, pressing a finger to his ear.

     The TV picture changed to the fourth floor of the bank. A rather tall woman wearing a dark blue scarf and lavender dress stood squarely in front of the camera with microphone in hand. Behind her were several police cars, paramedics and a Cadillac Escort. Frank Norvak could be seen speaking with one of the police officers, while Diana was picking something up with her pen.

     "Thank you for that marvelous intro, Bob. I am here on the fourth floor of the bank construction site where several murders took place not too long ago."

     Mary walked over to Frank who was now nervously looking straight into the camera.

     "And here is one of our cities finest detectives. Tell us, Detective, what is your name?" Mary stared at the camera as she waited for the response.

     "Ah, Frank, Norvak...Detective Norvak."

     "Okay, Detective Norvak, tell us: where does the Battery City Police Department stand on these recent murders, and can you tell us if there are any suspects in mind yet?"

     "Well, we believe that the murders are, well, you see it's kind of like..."

     "Yes, we do have a strong lead," chimed in Diana taking the mic from Frank. "In fact, the two suspects were caught fleeing the scene of the crime. we can to resolve the situation."

     "Hmmm, I see," said Mary, taking the mic back from Diana.

     "And it has been reported that there was an eye witness as well."

     "Yes, there is, and this case may lie heavily on his testimony."

     "Now many of the recent murders have been with a revolver, and many are saying that these murders may be connected with the 'Revolver Case,'" said Mary.

     "Well, you are calling it the 'Revolver Case' not me, but we do have reason to believe that they are connected."

     "Can you tell us why the FBI would be involved in a case where the detectives of this city could probably handle it on their own."

     Diana narrowed her eyes.

     "That is enough questions at this time. We have work to do, and until we get more information, we cannot do anything but guess at this time. Thank you."

     Diana turned her back on Mary and began speaking with another police officer.

     Embarrassed, Frank shot the camera one last look, then turned to follow his partner. Mary turned to the camera, "Well, looks like that's all we have for now, we will let you know more as the story unfolds.
Back to you Ike."

     The camera quickly cut back to Bob and Ike.

     "I guess that's all we're getting out of them for now. Thank you, Mary," said Ike.

     A picture of Mayor Kobe came onto the screen as Ike spoke.

     "According to one of our sources at City Hall, Mayor Kobe is 'devastated by thought of his friends and trusted colleagues being so brutally murdered, and will do whatever it takes to bring the culprits to justice.'" On another note, when asked about plans for the city's annual Chinese New Year celebration, the Mayor said, 'Not to worry, it is the year of The Tiger. Of a certainty, it will be one that the city will never forget. We cannot stop our celebrations because a bunch of terrorists want to try and take it over...'

     "Thank you, Ike," said Bob turning to the camera. "Coming up: we'll show you exclusive footage of last weeks oil fire, down on 2nd street, then later, we'll be discussing Doctor Oz's breakthrough discoveries about the grape. But first, exclusive coverage on Gunn-Tech's new deal. If you ask me, I think..."

     Imma shook her head in disgust. "No respect," she muttered to herself. She had just picked up the control and changed the channel to watch the last half of Dallas when a sudden rumble on the floor above her caught her attention.

     "That darn girl, always making such loud noise with her fancy shoes."

     She extended her hand as if from muscle memory and grasped a broomstick with a well-worn tip. She stood up with a grunt and a slight crack of her back and began banging on the ceiling. The noise stopped for a moment, and then began again on the other side of the room.

     "You want to play rough, huh? Well, I can go all night sista!" she challenged.

     As she walked to the other side of the room towards the sound, another crash was heard ten feet from the spot she had just left. That crash was followed by another and another, until it seemed the whole apartment was jumping. Imma banged on the ceiling in vain. She squinted and her face took on an all-to-familiar scowl. She waddled over to the phone and sat down. Pulling on a pair of rubber boots, she angrily jabbed at the well-worn speed dial number one.

     "Yes, Tom it's me," said Imma casually.

     "Yes, it's that darn girl again, probably having another one of her disco square dance mashes or something. Can you be right down? You know, I had a hard day and my hemorrhoids are killing me! I haven't had a bowel movement in three days. I keep drinking the prune juice, that seems to help me go, but just when it comes out it kind of looks like...what is that? Oh, you'll be right over? Thank you, Tom. Oh, and one more thing...Hello?...Hello?"

     She looked at the phone and wondered why the police station didn't have better connection lines. Every time she called she seemed to lose connection. Her curiosity was cut short by the sound of more banging upstairs.

     "No respect," she said again, shaking her head as she turned to look at her broomstick.
"Come on, Bitsy. Let's go give that homewrecker a piece of our minds," a slight smile crossed her face. Deep down she enjoyed this.