Fixer [Interim Title] Chapter 4 Part 2

Chapter 1 Part 1	Chapter 1 Part 2	Chapter 2 Part 1	Chapter 2 Part 2
Chapter 3 Part 1	Chapter 3 Part 2	Chapter 4 Part 1

The question of whether I knew the guy or not was bugging me, so I decided to check it out before checking out the owner of the car. I took a trip to the new City Hall, a garish glass tower that was both horrendously inefficient and horrendously expensive. Some of the movers and shakers had gotten some pretty stiff kickbacks off of that one, just as with the trash deal that had sent dough to Mayor Gomez's campaign contributors. Mayor Gomez was now persona non grata and soon to depart for, let us say, a more restricted environment, but it didn't matter. The people who owned him, lock stock and barrel, would just put up another front man to take his place. The corruption never goes away, it just changes its face from time to time.

I took the name and number I'd gotten from Curly to the front desk of the police department, and told them I might be able to ID the John Doe they'd gotten from Curly's Towing. After some time on the phone, an Officer Jackson arrived and escorted me to his desk.

"What makes you think you can ID our Doe?" he asked.

"Nothing. Except that he got left on my doorstep, and I live there. Stands to reason that he might be someone from the 'hood."

He showed me a couple of pictures, blowups of the dead guy. Dead people don't look like living people, and this guy was indisputably dead. It looked like somebody had bashed his head in. I shook my head. He could be one of a dozen people I'd known in high school. It had simply been too many years, and this guy was just too dead.

Then I had a thought. "You got a picture of his dick in there?"

"Excuse me?"

"His crotch?"

Officer Jackson looked at me incredulously. "Y'know, they warned me about you, but this is bizarre. Even the rumor mill couldn't match that one. What, pictures of dead dicks turn you on or something?"

I sighed. "Uhm, I hate to break it to you, Officer Jackson, but I'm not a virgin. What, you think I, like, was saving it just for you? One of my lovers had a strange scar on his penis, I just want to see whether this dead guy has the same scar."

Jackson shuffled through the pictures, then shook his head. "Looks like penis shots aren't something we usually put in the police file."

"Gosh, I would have thought those would be the first shots you made, what with all the repressed homosexuality around here and all. So now we get to go see a dead stiff at the coroner's office. Why, Dr. Feelgood might even be scooping out this stiff's guts when we go in. Won't that be fun? I love watching Dr. Feelgood working, he so enjoys his work..."

Jackson looked a bit green, but he picked up his phone and called over to the morgue and made the arrangements.

Dr. Feingold was the coroner who handled murder cases, and he was happy to take us to his John Doe, who wasn't yet sliced and diced but, Dr. Feingold promised us, "by the end of the day."

The stiff's face wasn't much better in person than in the photos. He was still dead, either way. But what I was interested in was a bit lower. Dr. Feingold pulled the sheet all the way down to the stiff's toes, then spread the stiff's legs a bit so we could get a better view of things. Then all three of us stared in silence.

"Interesting," Dr. Feingold said finally, breaking the silence. He bent closer, examining the void where the stiff's scrotum should have been. There was nothing there but scar tissue. "Appears to be old injury, though, not new one. Done with a very sharp knife or razor, then sewed up in an emergency room."

Officer Jackson looked green. "Recognize him?", he said to me. I leaned closer to the stiff's penis, looking at it curiously. I hadn't seen a penis in a while, and remembered them being bigger. But this guy had an excuse, not having balls and all that.

"No," I said. "I don't think this guy was having much sex. Especially with me. Don't have the slightest idea who he is."

"Guess that's that, then," Officer Jackson said, bolting for the exit.

Dr. Feelgood and I watched Officer Jackson flee, then he turned to me, smiling. "Well, guess I'll see you later, Kathy."

I smiled back at him, and gave him a little kiss on the bottom of his chin -- sometimes being short sucks. "See ya later, Marvin." I waved goodbye, and followed Officer Jackson out the door.

I was lying to Officer Jackson, of course. Now that I'd seen the guy's nether regions I recognized the stiff quite well. I even knew how his, err, injury, had happened.

Somebody had left me a present, indeed. But this present was one that raised as many questions as answers.