ONE OFF TOURIST (originally titled "Slab City."
Excerpt from Cantina Psalms, a noir novel by Thomas Shess (available on major online bookstores).
Carla Boris, the assistant medical examiner in her forties, handed Mayor Joe Martin an unstapled inch-thick stack of printed data. Tom liked her New England accept and her preppy wardrobe. She was on record being the oldest woman in San Francisco to wear parochial girl plaid skirts with penny loafers. His Honor and his bodyguard Tom Gresham arrived at the Medical Examiner's office to learn more about a rash of drug ODs in the past two weeks.
“What do you have?” the politico asked.
“We tested the blood on the new arrivals. We haven’t seen coke this pure in a long, long time. I’ve sent samples to the Feds to let them determine what part of the planet the powder came from. They can do that quicker than my team.”
“Anything else you can tell me about the victims?”
“Undernourished. They’re veteran drug users. That’s why I’m curious why they were caught off guard with more potent cocaine?”
“A new source?” Joe asked.
“Want me to guess?”
“Sure.”
She picked up some notes and read: “One of the citizens had recently come back from a business trip to South America, according to his family. They swore he had never done drugs.”
“One-off tourist,” Tom said from the back of the lab.
"No, a business man. Computer sales. Dual citizenship."
“Where in South America?” His Honor asked.
“Peru,” she said.
“And that Peru citizen,” Joe asked carefully, “had similar cocaine in his system.”
“Yes sir.”
“What about the others?”
“Card-carrying druggies, all of them.”
“Where were they picked up from?”
“I can have staff give you geographic data. Give me a week.”
“I need a favor,” Joe asked. “Stall any press calls on this if you can.”
“I’m a bureaucrat. I’m one of you. I can stall with the best of them.”
Tom followed Joe out of the lab. He handed her his business card.
“What’s this for?”
“Dinner. I’d like to take you out to dinner—sometime. It’s Friday. You work hard and as a citizen I’d like to thank you in a small way.” He laughed and realized how attracted to her he was. The plaid skirt worked. “And I know I’ve seen you before. I just can’t place it.”
“I’m married, slick.”
Tom snapped the card away. “Since when did a nice offer for dinner turn out to mean I want to screw you on the metal slab over there.”
“I wasn’t born yesterday. I know what you want?”
“OK, tell me what I want?” “I know your type. Fuck, fuck, fuck that's all that's on your mind."
"I’m offended."
"No, you're not," she mocked, “Go ahead call HR and stand in line to complain."
"Not that offended to stand in line.”
"Look, I’m maybe ten years older than you. I still got the stuff men like you have been drooling over since I was 14. You’ll be nice to me just to get me in bed. That's dishonest. It’s lying. Guys like you think I’ll be grateful to get laid because I’m older than you. And I know all you want is to screw me. You aren’t interested in a relationship or even a friendship. Tell me I’m wrong?”
“What’s evil about a one off?” Tom's eyebrows raised. "Besides, I don't care about your age."
"Am I suppose to thank you?" she wasn't impressed.
"You’re terrific looking woman. I'm attracted to you--but now that you’ve made a deal about it how old are you?”
“Good side of dead. Don’t mess with me on dead jokes,” Carla said.
“Dinner is dinner. I’m a single guy. No relationships. We don’t have to have sex.”
She snapped the card back out of his hand. “I didn’t say I didn’t want sex. I just said I know what you’re up to so don’t sweet talk me.”
"As long as you're the boss," he grabbed the card. "Dinner, what do we have to lose?"
“I may take you up on that,” she took his business card back.
“Where?” he asked, wondering what restaurant she’d pick.
“How about the metal slab right behind you.” Tom snapped the card back.
“You started it,” she laughed, as the closing swinging doors made Tom Gresham disappear.
Tom’s thoughts were scrambled, So far it has been quite a morning. Earlier, the woman in his bed wanted to dump him; his boss’s seventeen-year-old daugher called him a virgin; now a woman ten years older messed with him over what he thought was an innocent enough dinner invitation. "Man, asking a woman out to dinner didn't used to be so God damned complicated. “When did that change,” he mumbled. "And, I'm not a virgin," he said loud enough for the Mayor to turn back to look at him.
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