By Stephen J. Cannell
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Additional resources for The Prostitutes' Ball
Hang on, Skipper," he called to Jeb Calloway, hurrying after our captain, who was heading up the drive toward the crime scene. " That only happened on TV, in the movies, and in Hitch World, which I had come to learn had a very large zip code. The way the story went, Sumner Hitchens had sold one of his big homicide cases to the movies. That happened just a year before he was transferred to Homicide Special. Back then Hitch was a detective in the Metro Division downtown. He and his homicide table had busted a dangerous serial killer, a nutcase who thought the only way he could nourish himself and stay alive was to drink the blood of his victims.
This one was yellow with a maroon racing stripe. "Nope," Alexa said, turning again. It was way too dark to see much. "Cockroaches running for the baseboards," I muttered as I grabbed a curb number. 3140. The house we wanted was going to be near the top of the hill. The last car to pass us was a new black Mercedes 350. It was also running without lights, but this time as Alexa spun around she managed to catch the first four letters on the back plate. " she exclaimed. " We got to the address and I skidded the MDX to a stop, flipping off my emergency package as Alexa and I bailed.
I shouted, then checked the back door of the house. It was fastened securely by a heavy commercial-sized Yale padlock. The bracket was bolted to the side of the house and attached to the door with two-inch bolts that went all the way through the solid oak. I looked through the kitchen windows into a pantry. The house was dark and appeared deserted more than deserted, it looked to be in terrible disrepair. For some reason only the backyard and pool house of this estate had been maintained. Next Alexa and I checked the mammoth garage.
The Prostitutes' Ball by Stephen J. Cannell