Out of the Black - Lee Doty [28]
The first thing Ping saw was the visitor's lengthening shadow sliding across the floor, then a small form was silhouetted against the hall's light.
"Whoooaannt say nooooowhooh..." she saw the guns, stopped singing, stopped cold.
Ping registered female, registered her holstered gun- registered her badge. Left hand on the doorknob, right holding keys, face moving from affable to hard- she was absolutely beautiful.
Her skin was the color of cocoa. She wore no discernible makeup. Her patrol hat mostly hid her kinky close-cropped hair. She was a perfect contrast to Ahmed. Where his appeal came from style, hers seemed elemental... elegant. As he took her in for the first time, Ping was almost certain he could hear music, slow and passionate, hovering at the edges of his mind.
"Police- don't move!" Ping commanded, already feeling foolish.
"Yeah police! Who're you?"
"You know her?" Ping said without taking his eyes off of the woman.
Ahmed seemed to realize that Ping was not immediately going to shoot either of them. He looked both relieved and very surprised.
"Man, nice draw!" Ahmed said with the rash laughter of a man pardoned seconds before his certain execution. He glanced over his shoulder at the new arrival, "I see you've been listening to that Curve I gave you, babe. Man, you should have seen it! One second we're talking, then Pow!" He thrust his arms out, hands forming mock guns, his face a parody of gravity. "Seriously, it was liwatching Roy work- only in slow motion."
Ping was now feeling completely foolish about his little Malloy/Rodriguez tribute to freakout. At least he hadn't made the terror squeak. This was yet another thing he was hoping to keep out of his report.
"Sorry." His guns came down from combat position to ready position. He took a step back toward the couches. "Mr. Ahmed here was just telling me I was a dead man when... slow motion?" Ping said, feeling stung.
"Jeez baby, you're not usually so scary," the woman in the doorway said. "You've been practicing." She said, wagging her finger at Ahmed. She closed the door and pocketed her keys.
"Slow motion?" Ping muttered, holstering his guns, "really?"
"Now why are you telling the nice detective that he's a dead man, honey... hey, why is the nice detective here?"
Ahmed faltered. The bubble of his levity burst- Ping could almost hear it. Silence settled uncomfortably between the three of them.
"What?" She demanded at last, looking at Ping.
He was completely at a loss for how to continue. This investigation kept twisting on him. Most cases involved scratching for any bit of relevant information, then building a thin tapestry of the probability of guilt for the prosecutors to work with. This case was a continuing explosion of surprises and strangeness. At least it was interesting, he thought with a mental shrug. Mostly his job was tedious.
He sat on the coffee table facing Ahmed and waved her to the couch. "Sit, please."
"I'd rather stand." She said, squaring her shoulders.
"Suit yourself, but I have a feeling this is going to take a while." Her presence here was beyond surprising. It would probably cause procedural problems, potentially involving internal affairs. Now that was a mess he didn't even want to think about. He ran his fingers through his hair.
"I don't think this can take a while." Ahmed said, remembering his former urgency. "You've got to understand, I...we can't stay here."
"You want me to take you in? This isn't usually how these things play out- it's usually my idea."
"No. I need you to trust me- at least a little more, before we really talk. Please, we don't have any time now."
"Why not? You have another girl coming?"
"Yeah, maybe I could see this fancy draw of yours." the woman said, pacing behind the couch.
Ahmed closed his eyes, took a breath. "Tell me. How did it happen?"
The woman stopped pacing.
Now it was Ping with his hand on the doorknob; Ahmed and company were outside, waiting for him to open for them. His gut said that he needed their info