I’m always trying to come up with more blog posts; of quality, not just quantity. As I am currently putting the finishing touches on Girl’s Night: Spoon Fed 2, there’s a particular scene that I discovered I’m quite fond of. I’m not always happy with my scenes, but for some reason I love this one. It worked out so well. I was able to achieve exactly what I wanted. Like a proud director of a movie or TV show: “We nailed it!”
In the following scene, my character Tamara is seeking help from a detective friend of hers, but to her surprise she has to speak with another detective, the handsome Detective Kenyon Tyler. I wanted there to be some obvious sexual tension between them, but I also wanted to show that solving a murder isn’t as easy as an amateur sleuth may think. Anyway I loved it! Here it is:
Tamara took the el, got off at the Addison station, Wrigley Field. Baseball season was over, but the area was bustling as always. The Cubs World Championship fever was still alive. All the bars, restaurants and shops were all full of tourists. District 19 of the CPD was right there near the el stop. A new glass, low rise building stood next to the smaller Neo Classical structure that used to house the district. Tamara had been there before, a little over a year ago when Lisa was dating Kevin and Tamara was dating Jermaine. They were double dating one night; Lisa, Tamara and Jermaine were there waiting for Kevin to get off, all watching the action at the district on a Friday night. Now, as Tamara walked into the building with her heels striking and echoing off the shiny tiled floor, all she was thinking about was Kevin and getting help for Melissa and Warren. What a mess! Could Tatum really have killed him? Poisoned him to death? We have to find out!
Tamara approached the large, circular white desk. The hefty man behind it was in uniform, slightly different from a beat cop, a crispy white shirt with fancy looking stripes and black pants. She couldn’t help but notice his gun holstered around his large waist and a plaque on his desk that read: Sergeant Weiss. He was older, but handsome to her. He smiled at her.
“May I help you young lady?”
Tamara smiled. “I’m here to see Kevin….Detective Abruzzo.”
“He ain’t here,” the sergeant said.
“Oh?” Tamara said, surprised. “I thought he would be.”
“Me too, but he ain’t. What’s the matter?”
“I’m actually a friend,” Tamara said. “More friend of a friend. I need his advice about something.”
“Well his partner is up there. You can talk to him.”
Tamara thought about it. “Well, I guess since I’m here.”
“Detective Tyler,” the sergeant said. “I’ll call him….go on up.”
“Thank you,” Tamara said, and then turned toward the staircase leading upstairs. She remembered Lisa telling her Kevin’s desk was right at the top of the stairs. She went up and when she got to the top she saw a broad shouldered man with smooth, light-brown skin sitting at the desk. His hair was buzzed very low, almost bald. He looked up at her and smiled. He had deep dimples, including one in his chin and large, deep set brown eyes with thick eyebrows and long lashes. Um girl! Tamara walked closer to his desk. He stood up. He was taller than he looked sitting down and quite muscular. His tight shirt and pleated slacks displayed his physique very well. A toothpick was circling between his lips and Tamara noticed his gun, along with a half eaten sandwich wrapped in foil on his desk. He’s got a wife?
“A friend of Abruzzo’s huh?” he said, in a deep, jovial sounding voice.
Tamara smiled, finding herself a little tongue tied, but got it together.
“Hi,” she said. “I’m a friend of Lisa’s.”
“Ah,” he said. “Kevin’s girlfriend.”
“Not quite,” Tamara said.
“Huh?”
“Never mind it’s complicated,” Tamara said.
“Love is isn’t it?” he said, and then extended his hand. “Detective Tyler, Kenyon Tyler…call me Kenyon.”
Tamara shook his soft, but strong hand. “Tamara Collins, I go by Tam.”
He motioned to a chair in front of his desk, “Have a seat. What brings a woman like you here?”
Tamara sat down. “A woman like me?”
He smiled. “Sorry, cop talk. We’re not politically correct.”
“Of course not,” she said.
“We don’t see many women that look like you around here.”
She laughed. “I’m not sure how to take that.”
“You’re beautiful,” Kenyon said. “You know that.”
“Now I can take that,” she said.
He laughed.
“Where is Kevin?”
“You didn’t hear?” Kenyon said. “I guess not….his mom had a heart attack.”
“What?!” Tamara said.
“I hope I didn’t say too much,” he said. “But she’s alright, happened last night. Kevin and I were having pizza, thought Lisa would join us. He got the call around eight, but again, she’s alright….mother Abruzzo’s strong as an ox. Kevin is with her.”
“Oh my God….she in the hospital?”
“Far as I know,” Kenyon said. “I’ll check on him in a bit.”
“I wonder if Lisa knows?”
“She’s his girlfriend,” Kenyon said. “She should know.”
“She’s not his girlfriend,” Tamara said.
“Whatever, now what brings you here?”
“Kenyon, I need some advice about something.”
“What?”
“A friend of ours, me and Lisa’s, her name is Melissa…her boyfriend died.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Kenyon said.
“Thanks. We think he was murdered.”
“What?!” Kenyon said.
“Yes!” Tamara said.
“Why?”
“Because he told Melissa just last night that his wife murdered him.”
“Wait,” Kenyon said. “When did this guy die?”
“Last night,” Tamara said. “He told her right before he died.”
“Whoa!” Kenyon said.
“He saw his wife putting something in his tea…he was a healthy man, never sick, all of a sudden he gets sick and dies.”
“Um, he told your friend he saw his wife put something in his tea?”
“Yes!” Tamara said.
“Whew! This sounds pretty complicated,” Kenyon said. “Obviously your friend was seeing a married man.”
“This is about a murder, not a moral judgement,” Tamara said. “And it was more complicated than you can imagine.”
Kenyon raised his hands. “Hey I’m not judging. It sounds like you and your friends have your minds made up about this.”
“You don’t believe it can be murder?”
“Look, Tam, a dying man cheating on his wife would say just about anything at the end.”
“Are you saying he lied?”
“I’m saying he must’ve been very ill.”
“Yes because she poisoned him.”
“How do you know that?”
“I told you he saw her putting something in his tea!”
“Where is he to say that?”
Tamara sighed, “He’s dead!”
“I’m gonna tell you as a cop, you gotta prove this….you gotta have evidence.”
“How?!”
“There’s gotta be proof that his wife poisoned him….I guess you could start by finding the motive, the poison and any evidence that could back up your claim. Do you have any of that?”
“No,” Tamara said, defeated.
“Just the words of a dying man,” Kenyon said.
“Don’t rub it in man,” Tamara said.
Kenyon laughed. Tamara wasn’t sure how she felt about his laugh, but she could tell he had a sense of humor.
“Sorry,” Kenyon said. “Killing someone with poison is old school, something from Sherlock Holmes times. People don’t kill like that anymore….times are much more violent, direct. Killing with poison is almost impossible to prove.”
“What about an autopsy?” Tamara said.
“If one is done,” Kenyon said. “If his wife really did poison him, I doubt she’d ask for one to be done.”
“True that,” Tamara said.
“Sorry Tam.”
“This is so discouraging,” she said.
“What did you want me to tell you?” Kenyon said. “That she killed him?”
“Yes! And arrest the bitch!”
“It don’t work like that Tam.”
“Kenyon is there anything we can do to prove she killed him?”
He shook his head, “Other than a confession by the suspect, no, like I said, it’s almost impossible.”
Tamara looked away from him, down at the floor. She looked back up with a sparkle in her eyes. She smiled, causing Kenyon to smile too, all of his dimples showing.
“What?” he said.
Tamara stood up, tapping her phone against her left, leather hip. Kenyon took notice of her shape in the jumpsuit.
“I’m going to find out,” she said.
“I almost believe you,” Kenyon said.
“You should,” she said. “I’m a very determined woman.”
Kenyon rose from his chair, grabbing his business card from a holder on his desk.
“I don’t know what you’re planning to do, but be careful. Call me if you need help.”
He held his card out to her. Tamara looked at it.
“Why do men always think women need their help?”
“Why do some women make it about male, female?” Kenyon said, pushing the card closer to her. She grabbed it, and then turned around, walking toward the stairs.
“Nice to meet you,” Kenyon said.
“You too,” Tamara said, without turning back around.
He raised a brow.
She knew he was watching her as she started down the stairs.