Mama’s Girl
by Gary Clifton
Detective Ruby Washington tossed a folder onto Detective Jack Slattery’s desk. “Looks like that whorehouse down in Heaven’s Landing has come back to life.”
Slattery looked up. “The place where the Madam... uh, whatsie... shot the john last year over a spilled beer?”
Washington opened the folder. “Hazel Smith. Judge gave her a year for involuntary manslaughter. File shows she paroled out two months ago. Now, it seems she’s hosted World War III.”
“Another killing already?” Slattery asked, surprised.
“Prolly. Alarm office responded to three calls at that address last night.” She read: “1:27 a.m. and again 2:43 a.m., screams, female; crashing furniture, sounds of a fight. Patrol officers reported the mobile home dark, doors locked, door unanswered both times. Insufficient probable cause to force entry.”
Slattery nodded.
Washington read, “At 3:57 a.m, cell phone caller, not yet interviewed, reported a nude white male lying in a crosswalk three blocks away on Maple Lane, bleeding from a stomach wound. County General reported him DOA from a massive stab wound.”
“Jeez!” Slattery exclaimed.
Washington continued: “At 4:41 a.m., the Fire Department was dispatched to a fire in progress at Hazel’s place. Firefighters reported the trailer fully engulfed in flames and a total loss. Hazel was transported to County General in critical condition from burns and smoke inhalation. Alive, but not expected to survive.”
Slattery stopped note-taking.
Washington read further: “At 5:15 a.m., a nude, badly beaten female was discovered behind a dumpster on 47th. Transported to County General, she’s critical and also not expected to survive. File here said before she lost consciousness, she cried out, ‘My father’ as well as asking if ‘her sister Lila’ was nearby.”
Slattery scratched his head. “That’s all just blocks from Hazel’s place. Guess we need to go pull a rabbit outa somebody’s hat. Call the Fugitive Unit and see what they can find on the dead guy and the two women. Let’s go to work.”
* * *
The smell of the burnt hulk of Hazel’s place blended with the stench of several outdoor toilets, dry rot, mildew, and garbage tossed out back. In a half-hour of aggressive inquiry, they learned that Hazel’s business was a constant source of late-night noise and disturbance, culminating in the disaster of last night.
Neighbors reported a second girl turning tricks out of Hazel’s place. Gloria, a quiet young woman of about twenty was attractive but avoided conversation. When Washington read the description of the girl found behind the dumpster, all agreed the victim fit Gloria’s description.
Several neighbors spoke of a girl of about ten they’d heard called “Lila.” All assumed she was Gloria’s daughter. They described her as a quiet, cheerful little girl, who never played more than a few feet from Hazel’s door and never answered or acknowledged neighbors when they tried to make conversation.
* * *
Hazel gasped for breath on a menthol-saturated rubber mattress in the burn unit. “The fat guy showed up shouting he was Gloria’s ex.”
“Ex-husband?” Washington asked.
“Didn’t say. Tore the place apart, forced Gloria into a bedroom, beat hell outa her and had his way till I ran ’im off with a butcher knife.”
At the words “butcher knife,” Slattery and Washington exchanged glances. “Then you stabbed him... in self-defense?” Slattery asked.
“Yeah, he ran off buck nekked. Then an hour or so later, he come crashing through the door wavin’ some kind of stick. He hit me with it, and I guess I was out cold. Then, him and Gloria both was gone. Next thing I remember, the damn place was on fire, and I didn’t see who started it.”
“What was Gloria’s connection to you?” Slattery asked.
“She jes’ showed up looking for a job. Great knockers. The johns loved her.”
Slattery asked, “How did Lila fit in?”
Hazel’s eyes flickered weakly. “Who? Lila, you say? Is that a person?”
Slattery said, “A ten-year old girl lived in your house. Don’t be a wise-ass with us, Hazel. We have information that she’s Gloria’s daughter.”
“Nobody in that house, Copper, ’cept me and Gloria and whatever customers we could attract.”
Slattery said, “Mess around here and contribute to the abuse of a child and you won’t parole out so easy again.”
Gloria, stuffed with tubes, was semi-conscious in Intensive Care. She declined to answer any questions.
Slattery asked, “Listen, Lady, we need to account for the ten-year old girl that lived in that house. Where the hell is she? You asked the EMT’s about her by name.”
Gloria’s body shuddered violently as she lost consciousness. Alarms sounded, and intensive care personnel rushed in. “She’s not dead,” said a nurse, “but she soon will be.”
* * *
As they left, Slattery’s cellular buzzed. “Bill McCullum, Fugitive Unit, Slattery. The dead guy found on Maple Lane jus’ got early parole after ten years for a double murder in Utah. Murdered his family. A real nutcase who never should have seen the light of day.”
Slattery said, “Thanks a lot, Bill. Send the file up to Homicide.”
“Wait, there’s more. He provided the name and address of the cell phone subscriber who found Jones’s body.”
* * *
Cletus Jackson looked up from his cashier’s job. “Yeah, I was driving home, and if the guy hadna’ wiggled, I’d ’a run over him.”
Washington asked, “Was he alive? Did he speak?”
“Yeah. He gasped: ‘Lila, you’ve finally killed me.’ He quit breathing. Does that sound possible?”
“No problem,” Washington said.
As they left, Slattery’s cellular buzzed. “McCullum again. Utah sent more file info. Jones murdered two daughters: Gloria, age ten, and Lila, an infant. Mother survived.”
“What was the mother’s name?”
“Hazel.”
Slattery hung up “Well, partner, whatcha make a’ that? Gloria alive and Lila a ghost? They was sisters.”
Rose threw up her hands: “Don’t even think ‘ghost.’ You think I’m gonna write a report on that? No dice, Slattery.”
“How about: ‘Witnesses out of town, case suspended while players located? Suspect wearing white sheet’.”
“Thin, Slattery.”
“But I ain’t scared a’ no damned ghosts.”
A burst of icy air whipped past.
They scrambled into the Dodge and sped away.
Copyright © 2025 by Gary Clifton
