Morgan Harper sat in his red Dodge Challenger parked along a curb on Aurora Avenue, feeling sorry for himself. I’ve screwed my whole life up.

In his right hand was a nearly full bottle of Jack Daniels Single Barrel Select. In his left hand was a freshly lit Cohiba Spectre. Both items came in at over a hundred dollars apiece.  

Might as well splurge. Probably celebrating my last days of freedom.  Somebody is setting me up and setting me up good.  

Morgan took a long pull from the bottle of expensive whiskey then an equally long one from the ultra-premium cigar. Take away my badge and gun. Fuck ‘em all. Now I can do what I want. 

He stared out the car window at the throng of people walking by. It was 1:00 am, but still all levels of society were passing by. The homeless who had nowhere to go, late shifters rushing home, teenagers that were up to no good, and the many prostitutes looking for tricks. The latter was what Morgan was staring at intently. 

Tamra was off limits. Being with her now would only serve to hurt her when he went to prison. He could not do that. 

He did not try to call Kelly either, now that he had set her on the right path. If he talked to her, he would want her to fall back into old habits and he knew she would let him. Still, it’s time to relieve some stress. 

After several more swigs of whiskey, he started to feel good. Real good. Finally, one of the street walkers caught his interest. Not that he was in a hurry. Aurora Avenue didn’t start to quiet down until after 4:00 am. 

A whistle brought the girl over. She was a black woman wearing heavy make-up and had big hoop pearl earrings. Her hair was braided, and she looked to have a tight body. 

“Nice car.” She admired the Dodge as she came over. “You lookin’ for a date, baby?” 

The woman turned to show him the leopard-patterned tights that covered her well-rounded butt. Then she leaned in to make sure he was the only one in the vehicle. “You ain’t no cop are ya’, baby?”

“Not any more.” He laughed.  

“Wait one minute.” The hooker studied his face. “Yous that detective that runs with Kelly. I heard you were a ‘one whore Johnny’.”

Geez, these women really do talk up and down the strip. Morgan flashed her a hundred dollar bill. “I bet you’ll get in my back seat and let me have a couple of goes for this.”

“A couple of goes? I bet you’re too drunk to get it up for one.” She looked at him skeptically, then opened his back door and got in. “But for a ‘Benny’ I’ll let you try anything you want.”  

Morgan drove into a nearby alley and, after taking another long drink, handed the three-quarters empty bottle to her. 

When he climbed out and got in the backseat with the hooker, she was smoking the nub of his cigar. She must have grabbed it from the front seat console. 

Morgan put on some protection and after the prostitute pulled down her tights, he started going at it. Every time he looked at her, she was sucking on the bottle or smoking the last of his cigar.  

Once he finished, they made small talk while she killed off the expensive Jack. The cigar was long gone. “This is some good shit.”  

Morgan laughed, feeling quite drunk now. “What’s your name?”

“My street name’s Sweet Sugar, but I’m guessing since you're a cop I can tell you my real name is Beth Mackie.”

“Beth?”

“Aw come on now.” She frowned. “Don’t tell me yous one o’ them racists sons-o-bitches. A black girl can’t be a Beth? Bet you thought I was a Tanisha or an Ebony.”  

“No, I—-“ 

Beth interrupted his flustered defense. “I was just funnin’ ya. My parents were weirdos. I have a brother named Winston. Try growing up in the hood with names like Beth and Winston! Freakin’ nightmare.”

“Sounds rough.” Morgan shook his head. “But at least you weren’t named after someone of the opposite sex. My parents thought I was going to be a girl and chose the name Morgan after the actress Morgan Fairchild. When I popped out as a boy, they decided to keep the name anyways.”

Beth let out a loud belly laugh. It always surprised him when these women turned out to be real people just like everyone else, albeit a bit down and out. “What do you know about those two dead girls?”

“Oh, first you gonna sex me up, then you gonna interrogate me?” She gave him an over-exaggerated look of disbelief.  

“I told you I’m no longer a cop. I just wondered if I was on the right track before they canned me. I suspected Paco, their pimp.”

“That little Puerto Rican pussy? Not a chance. He didn’t off Jennifer or Amy.” Beth laughed.  

“Why’d you say that?” Morgan shook his head to try and clear the whiskey fog. 

“He’s a pussy because I beat the shit out of his ass when he tried to make me his Bottom.”

“Bottom?”

“Yeah. Tried to recruit me. Knew I was a high-dollar ho. I don’t trick for no twenties. You want the Sweet Sugar you pay the full price. Paco said if I came into his fold he’d put me in charge of the other ladies. In order to keep them in line. It’s called a Bottom.”

“You didn’t like that?”

“Sugar don’t play that. I’m my own pimp. All da money’s mine.” The aggressive woman shook her head and smirked.

“Why don’t you think Paco killed those women?”

“Baby, pimps don’t kill moneymakers. They may smack them around a bit and, pending no lesson needed, they usually don’t kill. Especially some lightweight Rico Suave that can barely keep a handful of ladies on the line. What you got is some weirdo on yo hands running around Aurora killing us ladies. Maybe a sex pervert.”

“The killer doesn’t have sex with them. That’s the weird thing.”

“Oh no it ain’t. I bet you got some nerdy white Poindexter who can’t get it up. He’s taking out his pent up blue ball frustrations on us ladies.” She grinned, showing a gold tooth. “But don’t you worry none, Baby. They ain’t made the Poindexter that can finish off ol’ Sweet Sugar. I’ll bust his ass up.” 

“I don’t doubt that, but your suspicions sound reasonable”. Her theory’s stronger than any of mine. 

“Damn right it do.” Beth pulled a fat joint out of her weave. “You shared with me, baby, so I guess I can share with you.”

Doctor Parker’s voice sounded in his head. My opinion is that you’re trying to kill yourself. Not short and simple with a gunshot to the head, but slow and painful by dismantling your life piece by piece. With hookers, booze, and whatever else you’re into. 

 Morgan grabbed his lighter from the front seat and fired it up. Some weed’ll throw the good doctor out of my head. Sugar held the blunt to his lips and he took a long draw. 

“Take it easy, baby. This here’s some strong Jamaican kush. Not that yer expensive cigar wasn’t a treat, but this here’s the real thang.”

The dope hit Morgan immediately. His mind grew even more hazy than it already had been from drinking all day. 

The two of them went at it again with Morgan behind her this time. They passed the joint back and forth through the entire romp. Nearing the end, Morgan was in a mental fog, feeling no pain.  

Still, Doctor Parker’s voice wouldn’t leave him alone, no matter how hard he pounded the woman under him. You’re intentionally making yourself suffer. All because you feel guilty about Debra’s death. That’s what your dreams are about. Guilt.

Character/Suspect List: 

Homicide Detective Morgan Harper - The heavily faulted main character who never recovered from the suicide of his wife.  

Kelly Pierson - a young, new to the game, prostitute who is frequented by Detective Morgan. 

Tamra Burns- a crime scene technician who is Debra's identical twin.

Internal Affairs Officer Brian Anderson - Investigating Morgan Harper.

Homicide Detective Hutch Kelly - Morgan’s partner. 

Captain Howitz - Morgan’s boss who runs the Homicide Unit. 

Ronny Tate - Street cop who can't stand Morgan.

Darrin Belzar - Religious by-the-book street cop. 

Paco Sanchez - A local pimp and street thug.

Hugo Chavez - Paco's thug/bodyguard.

Doctor Millison Parker - Morgan’s psychiatrist.

Mac Yung- Aggressive reporter. 

Ted 'Teddy' Norton - Morgan's old academy training officer. 

Steve Vance - Vicki's husband.

Vicki Nance - An old friend of Morgan and Debra’s. Murdered in her bar by the killer. 

Beth Mackie - Prostitute. 

Jennifer Collins - The first victim prostitute. 

Amy Henderson - The second victim prostitute.

Debra Harper - Morgan’s deceased wife who committed suicide.