Jag Lady
Lab Technician
Genre: Crime/Mystery
Rating: PG (Adult themes, mild violence)
A radio talk show host is murdered on the air just minutes after revealing a damaging secret about a high-ranking Miami-Dade police official. Dan Cooper has suddenly quit, and the lab has logged illegal internet traffic. Contains some spoilers.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything of CSI Miami or any of its intellectual properties. If I did, Rick Stetler would be on more often and would be forced to burn the outfit he wore in Cyber-Lebrity.
This work is the first of my Emmie Stockburne series. I hope you enjoy.
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Chapter 1—A Bad Air Day
The voice came over the headphones. “And you’re on in three. Two. One.”
The two gentlemen sat intently at the cloth-covered table under the dark blue awning at South Point Park, keeping one eye on the signal lights in front of them and another eye on their audience seated on the grass. The huge white van was parked behind them with the program director watching them like a hawk through the glass, making sure everything timed perfectly.
As the green light came to life on the black soundboard, both gentlemen straightened up and leaned toward their microphones on cue.
“And we’re back on WION News Talk, the Voice of Miami. You’re listening to Bo and Beckwith, the Poke in the Eye Guys. Remember, our elected officials are just begging for a poke in the eyes, and it would be RUDE TO REFUSE! And we’re broadcasting to you NATIONWIDE today, live here in Miami, Florida, where the only way you can tell it’s wintertime is because the rain is cooler.” The man looked up and smiled in time to see a chuckle from the audience spread out on the lawn.
His partner turned to him and gave him a dry look. “Stop it!”
The man smiled at him. Part of his job was to annoy his partner, and this was the response he had hoped for. “Okay. Here in Miami, credible sources say that Scott O'Shay, a high-ranking official here in the Miami-Dade Police Department is in danger of losing his job because it’s reported that he’s a member of the Adult Diapers Club. This is a group of adults who go to parties and restaurants wearing adult diapers under their clothes, not for medical reasons, or they just hang out at each other’s houses wearing adult-size diapers and baby clothes. Now some of the local citizens are up in arms.” The man paused. “I mean, I’ve heard of somebody acting like a big baby, but come on! Your tax dollars at work, Miami!”
More laughter from the lawn.
The man looked back down at his mike. “Now can you imagine that? Anyway. Wake up one day and find out that the top police officer in your town dresses up in adult diapers and baby clothes and runs around with other adults who do the same.” He cocked his head. “That’s really something you don’t want to, uh, leak out!”
His partner nodded with a slight grin. “Yeah. Somebody could really pin that on you, right?”
Both gentlemen smiled when they heard guffaws and boos from the lawn.
“But hey, here in Miami we’re used to our politicians making a mess anyway….”
“But if it doesn’t affect his ability to do his job, isn’t it a personal matter? Should a guy who does this be allowed to make major decisions for the Miami-Dade Police Department? Let’s hear your opinion. The nationwide call-in number is 1-800-555-WION.”
His partner turned to him. “Well maybe it is personal, but if you hire someone who does this, personal or not, how would it make you feel? After all, this is a leader in the community. And the motto is ‘Serve and protect’, right?” I mean, how’s he gonna fit that nine millimeter into a diaper bag?”
More laughter from the audience on the lawn.
His partner glared at him. “Bo, this is something that the guy does on his PERSONAL time. His PERSONAL time! What are you so afraid of?”
Suddenly the man straightened up and started to quake. His brown eyes glazed over and became vacant. His jaw quivered. He slowly leaned forward and collapsed on the table where he lay motionless.
His partner looked down at him for a second. “Well, I guess you’re bored by all this.” Unfazed by his partner’s actions, he turned back toward the audience. “While Bo takes another nap, let’s go to a commercial break. Our nationwide number is 1-800-555-WION.”
But something was wrong. The green light was still on, indicating that he and his partner were still on the air. He quickly clicked off his mike and looked at his partner, who was still slumped forward with his head sideways on the table, eyes closed. He reached over and nudged him on the shoulder.
“Hey, you okay, man?” he whispered.
Horatio stood in the waning afternoon sun, hands on hips, scanning the scene. The body still lay slumped over the table, which was now cordoned off by yellow tape. Alexx kneeled by the lifeless talk show host and raised his head carefully.”
“What does it look like, Alexx?” he wanted to know.
“I’m gonna have to get this one back to the lab to really find out what happened. No signs of foul play or gunshot wounds anywhere.” She looked at his peaceful face. “You weren’t just taking a nap, were you Sweetie?”
Horatio looked on. “And nobody in the audience heard anything. Let’s see whether I can find out anything from Bo’s partner.” He strode over to the back of the white satellite van where John Beckwith sat in a chair, clearly shaken. “Mr. Beckwith, I’m Lieutenant Horatio Caine with the Miami-Dade Crime Lab. Sorry about your partner.”
John Beckwith, a middle-aged man with a blonde receding hairline, slowly rose and shook his hand. “Thanks for all you do, Lieutenant. We appreciate you.”
Horatio never changed his expression. “Bo and Beckwith. The Poke in the Eye Guys. Never listened to your show.” The man shrugged. "Tell me, Mr. Beckwith. How is it that Mr. Bohannon keels over and you just keep talking?”
John looked at Horatio’s feet. “Well Lieutenant, that’s the thing. Derrick was known for doing crazy things like that, so when he just slumped over, everybody thought it was part of the act or something. Even I had no reason to think anything was wrong. I just thought he was being Derrick Bohannon. I mean, this guy also does local theatre, One time he came to the studio dressed as a genie. Then another time he brought in a CD of rude sound effects and we talked about farting and whether—"
Horatio quickly put his hand up. “I get the idea. So you were on the air, and all of a sudden Mr. Bohannon just collapsed?”
“Yeah. Sometimes when we have a subject we disagree on he’ll do something theatrical. He just sort of looked forward for a second.” The man breathed deeply and gathered his thoughts. “Come to think of it, it almost looked like he might have been choking or something had a hold of him. He couldn’t have been choking, because we’re not allowed to eat or drink on the air. His eyes went wide, and he sort of shook a little bit. But you have to remember, the guy is—was—a good actor.” He shook his head at having to remember that his partner had only been gone for an hour or so now. “I had no reason to believe that anything was out of place.”
Horatio dipped his head and listened intently. “Thanks Mr. Beckwith. I’ll be in touch.” With that he walked back toward Alexx, taking off his sunglasses. “Find anything yet, Alexx?”
Alexx picked up the man’s left hand. “I think I have an idea now, Horatio. Burn marks on his fingers. It almost looks like he might have been electrocuted or touched something hot. I’ll have to get him back to the lab to see just what happened.”
The Lieutenant donned his sunglasses and looked at the sky. “I guess talk wasn’t so cheap for Mr. Bohannon.”
Rating: PG (Adult themes, mild violence)
A radio talk show host is murdered on the air just minutes after revealing a damaging secret about a high-ranking Miami-Dade police official. Dan Cooper has suddenly quit, and the lab has logged illegal internet traffic. Contains some spoilers.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything of CSI Miami or any of its intellectual properties. If I did, Rick Stetler would be on more often and would be forced to burn the outfit he wore in Cyber-Lebrity.
This work is the first of my Emmie Stockburne series. I hope you enjoy.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 1—A Bad Air Day
The voice came over the headphones. “And you’re on in three. Two. One.”
The two gentlemen sat intently at the cloth-covered table under the dark blue awning at South Point Park, keeping one eye on the signal lights in front of them and another eye on their audience seated on the grass. The huge white van was parked behind them with the program director watching them like a hawk through the glass, making sure everything timed perfectly.
As the green light came to life on the black soundboard, both gentlemen straightened up and leaned toward their microphones on cue.
“And we’re back on WION News Talk, the Voice of Miami. You’re listening to Bo and Beckwith, the Poke in the Eye Guys. Remember, our elected officials are just begging for a poke in the eyes, and it would be RUDE TO REFUSE! And we’re broadcasting to you NATIONWIDE today, live here in Miami, Florida, where the only way you can tell it’s wintertime is because the rain is cooler.” The man looked up and smiled in time to see a chuckle from the audience spread out on the lawn.
His partner turned to him and gave him a dry look. “Stop it!”
The man smiled at him. Part of his job was to annoy his partner, and this was the response he had hoped for. “Okay. Here in Miami, credible sources say that Scott O'Shay, a high-ranking official here in the Miami-Dade Police Department is in danger of losing his job because it’s reported that he’s a member of the Adult Diapers Club. This is a group of adults who go to parties and restaurants wearing adult diapers under their clothes, not for medical reasons, or they just hang out at each other’s houses wearing adult-size diapers and baby clothes. Now some of the local citizens are up in arms.” The man paused. “I mean, I’ve heard of somebody acting like a big baby, but come on! Your tax dollars at work, Miami!”
More laughter from the lawn.
The man looked back down at his mike. “Now can you imagine that? Anyway. Wake up one day and find out that the top police officer in your town dresses up in adult diapers and baby clothes and runs around with other adults who do the same.” He cocked his head. “That’s really something you don’t want to, uh, leak out!”
His partner nodded with a slight grin. “Yeah. Somebody could really pin that on you, right?”
Both gentlemen smiled when they heard guffaws and boos from the lawn.
“But hey, here in Miami we’re used to our politicians making a mess anyway….”
“But if it doesn’t affect his ability to do his job, isn’t it a personal matter? Should a guy who does this be allowed to make major decisions for the Miami-Dade Police Department? Let’s hear your opinion. The nationwide call-in number is 1-800-555-WION.”
His partner turned to him. “Well maybe it is personal, but if you hire someone who does this, personal or not, how would it make you feel? After all, this is a leader in the community. And the motto is ‘Serve and protect’, right?” I mean, how’s he gonna fit that nine millimeter into a diaper bag?”
More laughter from the audience on the lawn.
His partner glared at him. “Bo, this is something that the guy does on his PERSONAL time. His PERSONAL time! What are you so afraid of?”
Suddenly the man straightened up and started to quake. His brown eyes glazed over and became vacant. His jaw quivered. He slowly leaned forward and collapsed on the table where he lay motionless.
His partner looked down at him for a second. “Well, I guess you’re bored by all this.” Unfazed by his partner’s actions, he turned back toward the audience. “While Bo takes another nap, let’s go to a commercial break. Our nationwide number is 1-800-555-WION.”
But something was wrong. The green light was still on, indicating that he and his partner were still on the air. He quickly clicked off his mike and looked at his partner, who was still slumped forward with his head sideways on the table, eyes closed. He reached over and nudged him on the shoulder.
“Hey, you okay, man?” he whispered.
Horatio stood in the waning afternoon sun, hands on hips, scanning the scene. The body still lay slumped over the table, which was now cordoned off by yellow tape. Alexx kneeled by the lifeless talk show host and raised his head carefully.”
“What does it look like, Alexx?” he wanted to know.
“I’m gonna have to get this one back to the lab to really find out what happened. No signs of foul play or gunshot wounds anywhere.” She looked at his peaceful face. “You weren’t just taking a nap, were you Sweetie?”
Horatio looked on. “And nobody in the audience heard anything. Let’s see whether I can find out anything from Bo’s partner.” He strode over to the back of the white satellite van where John Beckwith sat in a chair, clearly shaken. “Mr. Beckwith, I’m Lieutenant Horatio Caine with the Miami-Dade Crime Lab. Sorry about your partner.”
John Beckwith, a middle-aged man with a blonde receding hairline, slowly rose and shook his hand. “Thanks for all you do, Lieutenant. We appreciate you.”
Horatio never changed his expression. “Bo and Beckwith. The Poke in the Eye Guys. Never listened to your show.” The man shrugged. "Tell me, Mr. Beckwith. How is it that Mr. Bohannon keels over and you just keep talking?”
John looked at Horatio’s feet. “Well Lieutenant, that’s the thing. Derrick was known for doing crazy things like that, so when he just slumped over, everybody thought it was part of the act or something. Even I had no reason to think anything was wrong. I just thought he was being Derrick Bohannon. I mean, this guy also does local theatre, One time he came to the studio dressed as a genie. Then another time he brought in a CD of rude sound effects and we talked about farting and whether—"
Horatio quickly put his hand up. “I get the idea. So you were on the air, and all of a sudden Mr. Bohannon just collapsed?”
“Yeah. Sometimes when we have a subject we disagree on he’ll do something theatrical. He just sort of looked forward for a second.” The man breathed deeply and gathered his thoughts. “Come to think of it, it almost looked like he might have been choking or something had a hold of him. He couldn’t have been choking, because we’re not allowed to eat or drink on the air. His eyes went wide, and he sort of shook a little bit. But you have to remember, the guy is—was—a good actor.” He shook his head at having to remember that his partner had only been gone for an hour or so now. “I had no reason to believe that anything was out of place.”
Horatio dipped his head and listened intently. “Thanks Mr. Beckwith. I’ll be in touch.” With that he walked back toward Alexx, taking off his sunglasses. “Find anything yet, Alexx?”
Alexx picked up the man’s left hand. “I think I have an idea now, Horatio. Burn marks on his fingers. It almost looks like he might have been electrocuted or touched something hot. I’ll have to get him back to the lab to see just what happened.”
The Lieutenant donned his sunglasses and looked at the sky. “I guess talk wasn’t so cheap for Mr. Bohannon.”
Wierd though lol