The Hurricane Report
A Short Mystery
The fluorescent lights in the precinct stairwell flickered like a broken disco ball as Captain Rodriguez rushed down the concrete steps, his coffee-stained tie bouncing with each hurried step. The emergency call had come in fifteen minutes ago: “Officer down at the Richard’s apartment complex in stairwell B.”
What they found it differently wasn’t in the training manual.
Sergeant Maria Santos sat slumped against the cold concrete wall, her own regulation handcuffs securing her wrists behind her back around the metal stair railing. Her usually perfect ponytail bun had fallen into something that like a bird’s nest pure chaos, and her uniform looked like she’d been attacked by vicious beasts.
“Jesus Christ, Santos!” Captain Rodriguez fumbling with his keys. “What the hell happened here? Are you okay?”
Santos blinked slowly, her eyes site a bit blurry. A small trickle of drool was coming from the corner of her mouth. “Captain?” Her voice came out soft and raspy.
“Yeah, it’s me.
Captain Rodriguez: Santos did you get a look at the perpetrator? Maybe a name or something?” He worked frantically with the handcuff key, his hands shaking slightly.
Santos took a shuddering breath, her chest rising and falling like she’d just run a marathon.
Santos: “Yes, Captain… the perpetrator has a name.”
She paused, swallowing hard and trying to catch her breath.
Captain: “Well, Santos? The name?”
Santos: “Hurricane Tongue, Captain.”
All her colleagues just burst out into laughter.
Rodriguez froze mid-turn of the key.
Captain Rodriguez: “Hurricane… what now?”
“Hurricane Tongue,” Santos shouted out repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. “Real name… Detective Mike Ramirez from the 4th precinct.”
The Captain’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Wait, wait, hold on a damn minute. Are you telling me that Detective Ramirez from downtown did this to you?”
Santos nodded weakly. Wanted to spice things up in our relationship. The role play was to “Came here for the inter-departmental meeting about the Henderson case. Said he wanted to show me some new… interrogation techniques.”
“Interrogation techniques?” Rodriguez’s voice cracked like a teenager’s. “In the goddamn stairwell?”
“He said it will sound better here,” Santos mumbled, her cheeks flushing red. “Less… echo.”
Rodriguez finally managed to free her wrists, and Santos rubbed them gingerly. “Santos, I need you to be very clear about what happened here. Are we talking about an assault?”
Santos: “No, Captain. Nothing like that.” She struggled to stand, her legs wobbly. “It’s just… his nickname a joke. The man has a tongue that should be registered as a weapon of mass destruction.”
Everyone bursts out into laughter again.
Captain Rodriguez: “I don’t follow.”
Santos leaned against the wall for support.
Santos: “Captain, have you ever been kissed so hard you forgot your own badge number?”
Captain Rodriguez’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. “I… what?”
“Because I just spent twenty minutes with Hurricane Tongue, and I’m pretty sure he sucked my soul right out of me.” She touched her lady parts gingerly. “I think I might need medical attention.”
“Medical attention?”
“My lips are numb, Captain. Completely numb. And I’m pretty sure he gave me a hickey on my earlobe.” She pulled back her hair to reveal a perfectly purple bruise. “Who does that?”
Rodriguez rubbed his temples.
Captain Rodriguez: “Let me get this straight. You handcuffed yourself to the stairwell railing… why exactly?”
Santos: “I didn’t handcuff myself!”. “He suggested it would be… exciting. Said it was something he learned in Miami Vice reruns.”
Captain Rodriguez: “And you agreed to this?”
To be continued……..