Jim, Chapter 4: The Denzels Get Wet... With Laughter, That Is!

Chapter 1: Jim Still Has That New Cop Smell

Chapter 2: Jim Follows Up On A Hunch

Chapter 3: Jim Makes Strudel at the Denzels' Place

Chapter 4: The Denzels Get Wet... With Laughter, That Is!

Chapter 5: Jim Finishes The Job

Programming Note: I would strongly advise you to read previous chapters before continuing.

Chapter 4: The Denzels Get Wet... With Laughter, That Is!

Six Weeks Ago - At the "Strudel Killer" site

"Tom, that was sure a funny thing we did to that rook. The old serial-killer-and-ghouls prank. He really thought they were eating blood off the floor! It was just wax paper, though, and I'm thankful someone thought ahead for that. It took a long time to make that much strudel."

"Haha, I know, Marla. It's funny as hell to watch that rook reason through it all. It was worth it."

"A lot funnier than your little fake-PCP shenanigans, honey, if I may say so."

"Yeah, yeah, but it took weeks to set this shit up. Most cops are kinda boring people, Marla. This guy's a fuckin' riot. It was only worth it for him."

"Still wish you wouldn't trick the other rooks into smoking PCP."

"Well, only because I like to see if they'll do it with a little bit of peer pressure. It's a good initiation, and in the end it's just baking soda."

"Yeah, but don't you worry you're going to alienate them? Make them think that you're a drug user? All of that, honey?"

"Sure. But at the end of the day it gives me far more power over them. Shows them their place. Like, I haven't, but they have. They like to get wet. Turned. PCP. It's funny to me, Marla. I'm sorry, but it's really funny. Plus, they made the decision, they can live with the decision. Ain't like I pointed a gun at their heads." Tom cackled briefly.

"You see Jim as your protege, don't you?"

"What the fuck are you talking about, Marla?"

"You like the way Jim thinks. You think he fits your style well. He's not just funny to you, he's already your friend."

"You know... you're right, Marla. I thought it would be that fucker Dave in forensics last year. But like, Dave could never imagine it wasn't blood. Everyone's out to get him, you know how that is. Wouldn't even fucking occur to him. He's so gritty and obsessed with office politics, he probably wouldn't even laugh if he got tricked. He'd just seethe that someone put something past him. Yeah, so hardcore. Give me a fucking break. You know, he'll never have a family, so he can shove his bad-ass shit somewhere else."

"Oh, come on, don't get down like that."

"Dave has hated me ever since the PCP thing, he's the only guy that still holds it against me. He makes up stories like I made him smoke it at gunpoint, that it was real dust. I would never do that to another officer. Understand me, Marla? Hand to God. He's gonna get me fucking fired if he gets his way. He's a piece of shit and he just cares about himself. Motherfucker."

"Hon, I'll stand by you."

"I know you will, Marla....." As Tom is talking Jim walks by and smiles from the other side of the strudel-covered room. "You know that Jim, as optimistic as he is, really has a keen eye. He asks really random questions, and I didn't pick up on it at first, but you know what? He's thinking five moves ahead. The only thing holding him back is that he assumes the best from everyone. It's like playing checkers with someone that thinks everyone just wants to get to the other side with as many pieces as possible."

"Well, don't get too attached, even if he's a good fit, you have to mold him, show him that he has to earn more than trust, that his judgment is based in reality. Give it a couple years and then you can talk about passing the torch a little more."

"Yeah, yeah... Y'know, I told him to swear more and work out, and it's the funniest shit ever."

"Haha, alright, well, we'll bring him home for strudel now, Tom. I think people are filing out now. Your boys got the clean-up?"

"Yeah."

Dave, that old stick in the mud, hadn't shown up to Jim's initiation. Instead, Dave sat listening wistfully to the Denzels through a wire he had planted in the strudel room days earlier, his elbow on the lab table, his hand on his cheek, enviously plotting and mashing his face together. A member of the clean-up crew, on Dave's command, injected the blood calmly into the remaining strudel and discarded the needle. Dave didn't have to wonder that it would go to plan and sat alone thinking in his lab, turning the wire off and listening to the empty fan and seeking only empty fluorescence reflected on the black matte table. Stomach felt bothered, and head felt dully painful. Dave wished he could dim the lights, dim the sounds of the whole world sometimes. And if you could hear Dave in that room you would hear someone who didn't know how to cry squealing from time to time Tom would pay for what he had done to me and would never see the day when Jim could succeed him. And Jim would know who'd done it. Jim would know it was all because of Dave in Forensics.