Date: Mon, 24 Jul 2006 16:36:41 +0000
From: Farrell McNulty <copdigger63@msn.com>
Subject: Detectives Log - Chapter 68

This is Detectives Log - Chapter 68 - Kiss of the Crimnefighter, Part Two

  CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT Kiss of the Crimefighter Part 2


WHEN WE LEFT OUR HEROES, THEY WERE BOTH SHOT WITH MACHINE GUN FIRE IN
PURSUIT OF A SUSPICIOUS CHARACTER. IN SUSTAINING THEIR WOUNDS, THEY LOST
CONTROL OF THE CAR.....

MIKE - Getting popped in the chest, I lost control of the car - I had no
choice but to let it crash into a dumpster in a nearby park. I'd swerved
into one to avoid crashing into any traffic that may have been around.
The car finally stopped. Thank God we had a warranty. I was about to call
AAA, but first, I wanted to see about Eddie, who was sitting with his
head back, gasps and moans coming from his sweet, tender lips, his face
contorted in agony. I needed to get him out of the car and into some
fresh air. I got out, and started to walk around the front of the car to
get to his door, when I stopped, was about to fall over, clutching my
chest as this stabbing pain overcame me. I clutched my chest with one
hand, felt no wet spots, felt no blood running down my body or on my
hands, so I reasoned my bullet-proof tee-shirt had stopped the ammo, and
I was right - I'd felt a few chunks of something inside my clothes. I
leaned on the car with the other hand to support my weight, and then,
after a few seconds, I regained my sea-legs and went to see about Eddie.

EDDIE - Holy slam-dunk! My chest felt like it was on fire - I was hurtin'
so bad I couldn't even move my hands to clutch my wounds. I just sat
there, paralyzed, at least in my head, it felt like it. I sat with my
head back, eyes closed, continually grunting and moaning, 'cuz it hurt
like I can't describe. It's like I was beaten to a pulp in a gangfight.
Gosh, this was horrible. I heard my car door open. It was Mike.

MIKE - I opened the door and took hold of Eddie - I tapped his face a
little just to rouse him. He was still alive, thank God. I lifted his arm
to put around me as I'd carry him out of the car, but he let out this
scream, so I scooped him up, let his arms hang by their side, and picked
him up that way and gently lay him on the ground. I ripped his shirt open
- it was already riddled with holes, anyway, and I felt his tee-shirt,
and there was also some chunks of metal. Thank God, the bullets were
stopped from penetrating his chest. He was gonna make it. I guessed it
was the impact of getting hit so hard so fast must've winded him real
bad. I gently removed his tee-shirt and saw only a couple of marks, no
bullet wounds, no bleeding, his skin wasn't even broken. I gently rubbed
his chest. Instead of groaning and grunting, he was now smiling.

"Oh, yeah, that's good, that's real good. Aw, that feels wonderful."

As well it should - it was my healing touch. I bent down to kiss his
injured area, and he was starting to feel better.

"How ya doin', kid? Yer gonna be okay."

"Aw, I think I am already."

"Do ya think you can sit up a little?"

"Yeah, lemme try."

EDDIE - I sat up and it still hurt a bit, but I wasn't gonna let this get
to me. As all of us crimefighters know, ya gotta play through the pain,
and I was gonna, and I did.

"(gasp) Holy shell-casings, Mike, did ya get hit?"

"I did, but it didn't get through. The shirt stopped it, like it did for
you."

"Gosh, what a relief, I was really scared."

"It's gonna be allright, kiddo. Thank God we had the shirts, and thank
God we have a warranty to get this baby fixed, and thank God we escaped
what coulda been a terrible tragedy, just like always."

"Yeah, just like always. Ya know, God is really smilin' down on us all
the time. No matter what goes on, we always bounce back together."

"Cuz we're good guys, kiddo. We're good guys."

"What now, though, Boss-Man?"

"Well, we gotta get this thing in the shop, and just take a breath or two
back at the house. We'll get these guys, don't you worry about that."

MIKE - We take care of business. It wasn't easy, having to call the tow
truck, then taking a cab back to our place, but before we knew it, it'd
just be another memory - like it is now. We get back home and spot an
envelope, addressed to us, which was slipped under the door. I pick it
up.

"Watch it, Boss-man, it could be a letter bomb."

"Good point."

We slip on our protective gear - goggles, gloves, and we change into new
bullet-proof tee-shirts just in case the shards hit us in the torso. I
slowly peel back the flap on the envelope and empty the contents, which
was only a photo with a note that read:

FOR YOUR INVESTIGATION.

"Holy cold creeps - someone knows we're on the case - but who?"

"Look. This is the church's return address."

We looked at the photo and we were shocked. At first glance, it seems as
if someone had caught Fr. Stephens in the act. Eddie was overwhelmed,
"holy hoodwinks. How could he do such a thing? He blatantly lied to us.
What the heck is his game? And why are you still staring at it?"

There was something about it I couldn't take my eyes away from.

I kept staring and I muttered, "disturbing..."

"Oh, you bet it's disturbing. All that time I spent around him as a kid,
and he could've gone for me...unless he didn't wanna touch me because I
was already USED GOODS!"

Eddie threw a couple of punches at a wall and was shouting. He let his
emotions overcome his sense of duty and I couldn't stand back and let
this happen. He was letting himself disappear in this - I thought about
calling him off the case, but he's my partner and I never want to take
his work away, and I sure as hell wasn't going to let him throw it away,
either. I grabbed the kid and he started to wrestle a bit, "Mike,
please..." Then I surrounded him, and kissed him - I took his hands and
put them on me, I made him feel my coat, the one I always wear on the
beat. It seemed a drastic move, but I had to reach in and grab his inner
Robin, his inner detective. It was the Kiss of the Crimefighter and he
needed that because I needed him.

I shout at him, "Eddie - it's not the preacher - it's not him!"

"Well, who the heck is it, then, huh? Who is it?"

"Take a closer look. Something looks a little odd about the jawline.
We're gonna blow this photo up."

Blow it up, we did. We scanned the image, saved it to a computer program
and increased the size, sharpening, descreening, the whole shot. I
grinned that shit-eating grin I always grin when I'm right about
something, and by God, was I ever!

"It's a picture of a picture on top of a picture."

"Of course, I see what you mean. Someone took a picture of Fr. Stephens'
face and stuck it on whoever's ravaging that poor kid."

Eddie fell silent for a second. "And to think I had Father tried,
convicted and hung just on the strength of a blurry photo. Gosh, I feel
miserable." Eddie leaned on his arms on a table, and I walked over and
put my hands on his shoulders from behind. "That's all right, kiddo -
anyone else woulda thought the same thing."

"But I'm not anyone else - I shoulda been a better gumshoe than that -
this guy was the greatest to me back then and I just turn on him."

I grinned and said, "Nah, only for a second - I timed ya! Now, ready to
hit the church and kick some major ass?"

"Thought you'd never ask! Let's hit it!"

"Good, 'cuz I just got an idea - we stake it out for a while, go kinda
slow, see? Sorta infiltrate the establishment, if you will."

"Sounds cool."

"We'll set up a sting with the Deacon. You're gonna spend some time
around the kiddies, check 'em out, see if they'll talk."

"That's cool - I'm pretty good with kids - but what's my disguise, am I
some sorta school counselor or somethin'?"

"Not quite - I remember you tellin' me that lack of funds forced the
school to close down, and the students were scattered to other schools
around the area."

"Holy cutbacks!"

"Exactly. So, in addition to kids who show up for church events and the
like, there are also altar boys on Sundays - that's where you come in."

"What? Mike, I'm too tall - I can't pass for a kid."

"You've seen a lot of overgrown 13 year-olds before, right?"

"Well, yeah, but...."

It was fun watching his face change expressions, ranging from confusion
to utter bewilderment.

"...an Altar boy? How'm I gonna fit in?"

"We'll set it up that you're the rather...athletic type - took a lotta
vitamins in your time - pretty good shape - hopin' to get a football
scholarship for high school. Also, when you're snoopin' around, be sure
to take my digi-cam. When ya snap a photo, just press this button here,
it'll automatically send the image to our e-mail address and I can
monitor stuff from here."

"Holy mission control. Just hope I can pull it off, 'cuz...what if I get
found out?"

"Not a chance in hell, man, it'll all be set up with the Deacon."

"Do you think he can be trusted?"

"Come on, kiddo, he's a man of the cloth - if ya can't trust a....."

Suddenly remembering the nature of the case we're working, I felt like an
idiot.

"If the wrong people get wind of me, and my cover's blown, they might
take some - - pretty heavy action."

"That, my boy, is a chance we'll have to take. We gotta go in there and
get Father back his life...while possibly paying the price of our own."

Eddie rubbed his fist, "Right, Boss!"

"We must away! We gotta get to the church ON TIME!"

CAN OUR HEROES PULL THIS OFF? EDDIE POSING AS AN ALTAR BOY TO INFILTRATE
THE ESTABLISHMENT, AS IT WERE? WILL HE BE THE NEXT VICTIM OF THE
MYSTERIOUS BACK-DOOR MAN? KEEP READING ON, FOLKS. IT ONLY GETS WEIRDER
FROM HERE!