Samantha woke up feeling as if she'd gone ten rounds with a heavy weight champion in the boxing ring. Her muscles were all taunt and she could barely move her neck to the side to check the time. She wasn't sure what she'd done the night before but she hoped it was fun.
She didn't see how there was much fun that it could have been, her face felt like it had met with the business end of a baseball bat and her head was throbbing. She had abrasions on her hands and a few minor cuts. Shit, she thought, maybe she’d gotten into another one of her famous bar brawls.
She had the strangest feeling that she was laying in a bed of syrup. Focusing her eyes on the clock she used her hand to push her hair back away from her face. Feeling something sticky Samantha pulled her hand into front of her hazy eyes. What she saw froze time for a moment. Her hands were covered in blood.
In a panic she flipped the covers back to see where she was bleeding from. A scream pushed forth so violently that the sound of her own voice made her jump and recoil back away from the mess. Her bed was covered in blood. Panicking Samantha picked up the phone and called 911.
As calmly as she could she explained to the operating that she wasn't sure what was going on but she was laying in a bed that was soaked in blood. No, she wasn't bleeding. No she wasn't aware of anyone else in the house. No lady, I don't have any fucking idea where the hell it came from. Just get here now.
The operator wanted her to stay on the phone so she threw on her robe and ran outside, caution be damned. Standing outside Samantha tried her hardest to remember the events of the night before. It was no use. Her brain had shut down.
She'd drank too much and had blacked out again. Every muscle in her body hurt and she really wanted to get the blood soaked shirt and boxers off of her body. She wanted to take a shower. There was blood matted in her hair and she didn’t like the feeling of it on her skin.
Relief started to course through her when she heard the sirens rushing towards her house.
The cars pulled up and came to a sliding stop in front of her house. A young male officer and his older partner jumped out of the car and came towards her with their guns drawn. They yelled again and again, ma'am are you alright. She couldn't answer. The words were glue in her throat. She didn’t think she was bleeding and that scared her to death. Samantha had no clue as to where the blood came from. Whoever it came from had to be dead. The thought of a dead corpse somewhere in her house caused her stomach to lurk belligerently.
This whole thing was more than she could handle. All she knew is that she'd been out partying the night before and she woke up covered in a bed that was immersed in blood. Another patrol pulled up soon followed by an ambulance. The officers rushed in the house and Samantha sat on the bumper of the ambulance trying to explain to the paramedics the night before, and what hurt. The officers came out and asked questions. Samantha was taken to the hospital. And after she was cleaned up it was determined that the blood was not be hers.
She was bruised and some wounds on her arms and hands but there was no injury that could have produced that much blood. She was allowed to go home and put on clothes with a female officer watching the entire time. After she was dressed she was taken back to the station where a team of detectives asked her the same questions repeatedly over the span of several hours. It was beyond frustrating.
It was the same set of questions asked fifty different ways. Samantha could tell that they were trying to catch her in a lie. She was going to get the last laugh all the way to the court house for her first hearing. See there was no catching to do. Samantha honestly could not remember anything. The police weren't buying that line. Why should they? It was one she had heard time and time again.
Whose blood is it Samantha? Is it your boyfriends? Did ya catch him cheating Samantha? Did he try and hurt you? We can't help you until you tell us what happened Samantha. Where is the body Samantha? Who were you drinking with? How come they say they weren't with you last night?
What club were you at Samantha? How come the bouncer doesn't remember you? Oh no, he knows you Samantha. He says he knows you well. He also says he hasn't seen you and that nasty temper for a week and a half. So what happened Samantha? No, you aren't under arrest Samantha. Sure you can go home as soon as they are done collecting evidence.
The questioning was a blur. The detective that seemed to be in charge was an old man with black, slicked back and oily looking hair. His face was really red and all Samantha could focus on when he spoke to her was the bright veins that covered his nose like red spider webs. He was a portly man with stubby legs and hairy arms that looked like giant slabs of beef hanging from his body.
He had putrid breath and kept slamming his hand on the table to try and scare her. Samantha didn't remember ever having a hangover as bad as the one she was suffering through right now. Every time his decomposed breath hit her nostrils her stomach rocked. She'd thrown up several times. He would shove a garbage can at her and sneer at her while she attempted to remove the smell of his breath from her nose and from her memory. After the third time she was basically dry heaving. There was nothing left in her stomach to come out.
His partner was this baby faced woman who didn't say much. She didn't look like she was even old enough to be out of high school, much less be a detective. She must have been a cheerleader with those big blue eyes and that pretty blonde hair that she had pulled back into a sleek and sensible ponytail. She was of average height and her body was slender.
Her voice was very soft and she spoke to Samantha in a tone that indicated that they were friends. That they were going to figure this out and Samantha shouldn't mind her neanderthal of a partner. Her soothing tone and soft hand upon Samantha's shoulder tried to tell Samantha that boys will be boys but this was just between the girls in the room. It was a secret moment where Samantha could just let all the details go.
Her questions were almost motherly in tone and concern. Are you okay Samantha? Are you in any pain? Do you need something to eat? How much did you drink last night? Just tell me what you remember, okay? Are you sure that’s the bar you were at? Give me the names and numbers of your other friends.
The one's you gave us say they weren't with you. Samantha honey, you blacked out last night. Just give me the names of all the bars and clubs you frequent. Maybe it was self defense Samantha. If you took someone home and you said no then that’s how you want to put it to the D.A. No means no, Samantha if he got rough you had every right to defend yourself. Think Samantha. Think hard. Okay, well you can go home. Here's my card if you remember anything at all.
Samantha went home and took out her cell phone. Sitting on the couch with a piece of paper and a pen she called everyone she knew. No one had seen her the night before and they didn't know where she'd been. Samantha pulled out her little black book and called all the guys that she kept cataloged in there. No sorry Samantha, they said, you must have flown solo last night. No one seemed to know where she had been last night. And no one had seen her at all.
Frustrated and crying so hard she couldn't sleep she took her cell phone and checked into a hotel room. There was no way that she could sleep in that bed tonight. The day had been so crazy Samantha had not eaten anything. Pulling the ancient phone book out she called out for delivery and took the card of the female detective out of her pocket.
Something deep in her told her that she shouldn't trust this woman. All her soft words and comforting pats seemed to be dripping with a sweet poison that would kill Samantha no matter how sweet it tasted. Samantha decided that this woman was anti-freeze. Looking at the card she flipped it over and over until she couldn't stand to stare at any longer.
Her stomach was still upset and her head had not forgiven her for what ever she'd done to it the night before. She stretched out on the hideous plastic feeling bedspread that covered the bed. Sleep was not an option right now. Lying down did help relieve some of the pain and nausea she was feeling.
Once the food arrived she pushed it from one side of the paper carton to the other, knowing that no matter how hungry she was there was no way she was going to be able eat tonight. Instead she turned on the t.v. and lay there gently probing her mucked up mind for details from the prior night. She wasn't sure when she fell asleep. It was a transition that was so gentle that she didn't even feel it coming. That night was thankfully devoid of dreams. It was simply a black curtain that fell in front of her eyes and kept her wrapped in its forgiving arms until the sun dripped into the room from the edges of the curtains.
When she awoke Samantha stretched feeling a hundred times better than she had the day before. For a brief moment in time she wondered where she was and why she wasn't at home. The memories from the previous day rudely slapped her in the face. Throwing her legs over the edge of the bed she sat up and rubbed her eyes. Pulling them back she frantically searched them and the bed for blood. The sheets were rumpled, but clean. Her hands were just as she'd left them the night before.
Once again she scoured the beat up old phone book. This time for a lawyer. She hadn't been charged with a crime yet. The police had no real proof that any had been committed except the blood. If they couldn't match the blood to a victim or to a body then there was nothing to charge her with. For all they knew at this point the blood could be from an animal. Maybe Samantha had been partying with a satanic cult. Not that Samantha had hung out with those types. She'd been so blasted that night that she couldn't even remember where she'd been drinking.
After an hour with no good results she finally found a lawyer. When she went to meet him she immediately didn't like the guy. Everything about him screamed slimy. Samantha knew she'd give him the job. His voice was smooth and lubricated. His hair was perfectly fashioned, with not one hair out of place. His smile was amazing and his suit was flawless in the way it hung off his nicely toned body. This guy was a shark, a predator in the court room and she could tell all this just from the way he smiled at her and said hello.
Thomas F. Geraldi. He was the man for the job. Of course Samantha still wasn't sure if the police would actually bring a case against her or not. She was sure that they would try. She wanted to be ready if that nasty hammer dropped on her. They talked for an hour. About what could have happened. They spoke of defense possibilities if she had killed someone and how the case would go. When she left she felt confident that Mr. Geraldi would be able to catch what ever the police threw their way. In fact she was sure that not only would he catch it, but he'd throw it right back at them.
When she got to her car and started to put her key into the door the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, before she ever heard the clicking of heels behind her. Before she even turned around she knew that it was Detective Anti-freeze. Whipping around with her keys in her hand she wasn't surprised to find the innocent looking woman standing near her, demurely clasping her over sized purse against her side.
"Hey Samantha, can we talk for a minute? I feel really bad about how my partner treated you."
She flashed an shy smile meant to disarm. Once Samantha's eye's met hers she looked down, as if the guilt were stopping her from holding eye contact with the woman that her partner had treated so roughly.
Yeah right. Samantha wasn't going to fall for that act. Not today, or any other day for that matter. She was smarter than that. Besides her lawyer had told her never to talk to the police or anyone else without him there. "Um, sorry detective. I'm not supposed to talk to you without my lawyer present."
The woman acted shocked. As if she hadn't seen Samantha enter and leave the office of the famous court room great white. Samantha watched her closely and caught the movement on the detectives face. It was so slight that she had almost missed it. But she didn't miss it. The woman had narrowed her eye's at Samantha. Well she could be pissed all she wanted. They wanted to pin a murder on her and since she wasn't aware that she'd done anything wrong she certainly wasn't going to help them.
Assuming that the conversation was over Samantha got into her car and drove away, not saying anything and not every attempting to even look Detective Anti-freeze in the eyes. She drove back to her hotel and tried not to think about anything. On her way there she swung her car into a grocery store parking lot. She needed to get a few things if she was planning to stay at the hotel for awhile.
With the way things were going she was going to need too. The list was short. She needed liquid body wash, some shampoo and conditioner, some razors and lotion. Last but not least she grabbed a bottle of vodka and a bag of ice. She knew that she shouldn't be drinking. But with all that was happening Samantha really needed a drink. Besides, she thought to herself, she wasn't going anywhere so she'd be fine.
Once she was back in her room she took a long hot shower to try and wash the last few days away. When she got out she made herself a vodka on the rocks and turned the t.v. on. When she started to feel the effects of the booze kicking in she got up and hid her keys from herself. Samantha knew from experience that once she was plastered she couldn't find her own nose on her face, much less something that she'd hid from herself. God help her when she needed them in the morning. That was an inconvenience that she was willing to deal with. It would be worth it to not to be so painfully sober tonight.
A few drinks turned into the whole bottle and Samantha slipped off into the Sandman's arms while still holding an unlit cigarette and the almost empty bottle. She'd probably have to fall from the bed and break her head before she let go of that bottle. Samantha was serious about her drinking. In her life she found that people come and go, but her magical crutch also known as a bottle of vodka would always be there. Time and time again she leaned on it when nothing else was there to pad the fall.
In the morning the sun didn't shine through the dingy window of her hotel room. She could hear the rain falling outside and Samantha was glad. It seemed fitting that on a day like this the weather would reflect how she was feeling inside. Rolling over carefully so as not to rattle her throbbing head Samantha lit a cigarette.
Two puffs later and she decided that she didn't need the nicotine that badly. She slowly made her way to the bathroom leaving the light off. She was sure that the bright overhead lighting would be the trigger that would detonate the bomb sitting in her stomach. But on second thought she turned it on. Maybe throwing up would make her feel better. At the very least she could just get it over with. When she turned on the light she immediately turned it off while puking in what she hoped was the sink.
"No, no, no, no, no!!" She screamed as she stumbled out of the bathroom.
Her chest felt like it was caving in. Pins and needles attacked her limbs and she felt the room twirling out of control. The ground seemed to tilt and come from under her at the same time. Crawling across the floor she grabbed her purse and dumped it on the floor to call 911.
She couldn't believe what she'd seen. It couldn't be real. There is no way that what she saw was real. She stumbled back to the bathroom and flipped the light back on. When she'd flipped the light on the first time she had seen the body of that lady cop in her tub. It was still there. Samantha couldn't seem to grasp that it was real. She had thought that maybe when she turned on the light the blood and the body would somehow be gone. How Detective Anti-freeze had gotten there was beyond her.
There was blood every where. Not just in the sense that it was in the tub and on the floors. It was everywhere, literally. Samantha couldn't even breath or function enough to dial the proper numbers. Gripping the side of the bed Samantha hoisted herself up and went back to the bathroom to turn on the light. She looked carefully at the woman and after staring for a long time she could tell. The woman was dead. She wanted to go feel for a pulse. She couldn't do that though.
She didn't want to touch the blood in any places other than where she already had. Not like it would make much of a difference. They had her this time. She didn't even know what happened. All she knew is that there was a dead cop in her bath tub in the hotel room that she had rented in her name.She banged her head against the floor ignoring the pain that splintered through her head.
What had happened? Think Samantha, think. She had gone to get a lawyer. Then she'd exchanged a few words with the lady. Not angry words. Not really words that mattered. There were no emotions. They had simply been words. She'd left and gone to the store to get toiletries and that damned bottle of vodka which lay on the floor next to her bed along with an unsmoked cigarette. Samantha remembered falling asleep with it in her mouth. That was it. End of story. That’s all. So why was there a dead woman in her tub? Why was there a dead cop in her tub?
There was no way that she could say nothing happened. Even though as far as she could remember nothing had happened. Samantha had gotten drunk and passed out. Or that’s what she thought had happened. Obviously something else happened. It had too. Because dead cops just don't magically appear in bath tubs over night. That same thought kept running around in her head.
The more she thought of it, the more her head hurt. She was screwed either way. It was a cop. A fucking cop. Shit, Samantha thought. Wiping the blood off of her hands and onto her shirt she leaned against the wall and slid to the floor. Resting her head on the top of her knee's Samantha took a few moments to think.
An hour later and Samantha did the only thing she could think of. She called the big gun in her corner. She picked up her cell and called the great and undefeated Thomas F. Geraldi. He told her to wait outside her hotel and not to touch anything else. She hadn't planned on it, but at the moment she was sure that it was the best advice that he could think to give her. Its not every day when one of your clients calls you to tell you that she awoke to find a corpse of a dead cop in their bath tub.