Loose Ends

By Mongoose750 (mongoose750@yahoo.com)

The woman angrily glared at the one-way window. She knew she couldn’t see them, but she knew they were there. She started talking loudly at the window. On the other side, her words were muted, but the observers could easily tell that they were angry words. After a brief moment, she raised a finger and pointed it at the window, no doubt, uttering a threat or curse at the person or persons on the receiving end.

The woman was 5’6” with not quite a medium build or stocky build, but somewhere in-between. Clad only in a white T-shirt and blue shorts, she continued to tell her unseen observers what she thought, her neck-length straight dirty blond hair waving a little as she did so.

“So when are you going to talk to her, Dalton? You’ve had her cooped up for thirty minutes,” Terence Johnson said. He was a 5’9” black policeman who just recently graduated from the academy, and was looking forward to a stable shift of cruising the city, making a presence, and writing a ticket or two every now and then.

“Whenever she calms down,” Dalton Winter remarked, the sarcasm clear in his voice. Dalton was a ten-year veteran of the force, but it seemed like twice that to those he worked with. He was white, 5’9”, with light blond hair and a rugged face that seemed to have a permanent five o’clock shadow no matter how often he shaved. Despite the fact he claimed to know everything, he actually had good detective skills. That allowed him to get away with a few things.

“I don’t see that happening real soon,” Terence said. He actually had a new partner waiting for him, but he first had to undergo two weeks partnering with Dalton. It was a kind of bizarre rite of passage. The theory was if one could put up with Dalton, one could actually put up with just about anything. The theory actually had some merit; after a few days, several people had quit the force, or pleaded for something, anything that would get them away from Dalton, a desk job, meter maid, anything. Terence had a few days left, and he was counting every minute.

As if she heard Terence’s statement, the woman fired her right fist into the window. Those gathered around thought they heard a “crack” sound, fearing it was the breaking of her knuckles. She followed it up with a left punch of the same velocity. She stared at the window for a moment, then delivered a left kick. The dirty imprint of her bare sole was left on the window. Feeling a little pleased and calmer, she gave a half smirk and walked back to the table to sit down.

“I think she’s ready now,” Terence remarked.

Dalton was about to raise an objection, but Janie Riley, the secretary and a woman that nobody messed with, walked up to him. She was a 5’2” black woman with a full-figured build with silky black hair flowing down her back. It’s been said, with no argument, that she ran the department. Even the higher-ups in the force listened to her when they entered her kingdom. She was as sweet as peaches on most occasions, but she also had a temper that made even hardened criminals cower in fear.

“Dalton, get in there and talk to her before she hurts herself; she’s probably innocent anyway,” she barked.

Having his show of authority being exposed as just a show of power irked Dalton, but he knew enough not to have it out with Janie. “Let’s go in,” he said to Terence.

The woman was still sitting pleasantly at the table as the two policemen came in. Dalton attempted to give her an intimidating look, while Terence looked around. The woman stared in his direction, and ignored Dalton’s stare.

“So let’s see who we have here. We have a Sofia Schwartz, originally from Hungary, and not too long ago, became an American citizen. Another hungry mouth we have to feed,” Dalton began.

“Are you suggesting I do not earn my keep, officer?” Sofia asked.

“Oh, not at all. Hmm, it says here that you are a sumo wrestler.”

“Yes sir.”

Dalton looked at Sofia’s build the same way a scientist would study an insect. “Huh; you don’t look fat. A little tubby perhaps, but not fat. It sounds like a funny way to make a living, waddling up and bumping against each other,” he remarked.

Terence inwardly groaned, and he could almost feel as well as see Sophia’s face turning red.

“I am in good shape! I am not ‘tubby,’ or fat, and I do more than ‘waddle’ in the ring,” Sophia exploded.

“Sure you do,” Dalton replied. “In case you’re wondering why you are here, let me fill you in. About an hour or so ago, we received a 911 call from a Johan Muller. According to that call, he said while the lights were out in the house, a big woman, dressed in black, complete with a mask, tried to kill him. He managed to escape to the bathroom and dial 911 on his cell phone. 911 in case you don’t know, is the number people call in emergencies.”

“I am well aware what 911 is,” Sophia said icily.

Terence was examining the one-way window while this was going on. He saw a hairline fracture where Sophia struck it. He mimicked a whistle, and turned back to Dalton and Sophia.

“Anyway, we happened to be in the neighborhood when he called, and that’s when we found you, in front of the house,” Dalton said.

“As you can see, I’m not wearing black, and I was walking down the sidewalk,” Sophia argued.

“In those?” Dalton pointed to her bare feet.

“I am a sumo wrestler; we go barefoot all the time.”

“Sure you do.”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

“Don’t know yet. We’ll see.”

“Sophia, we just need to ask you a few questions,” Terence said, trying to calm the waters a little. “Do you know this Johan?”

“No I do not,” Sophia replied.

“You’re both from Hungary,” Dalton added.

Again, Sophia’s calming demeanor fell apart. “Hungary is a large country. Not as large as this one, but large enough. I do not know this Johan. May I ask a question?” She asked.

“Yeah, I guess,” Dalton grunted as he wrote down notes.

“You said, Johan is it, was attacked in the dark by a woman. If it was not long ago, in daylight, why was his place dark?”

“I don’t know, maybe he keeps his blinds closed.”

“And if it was dark, how did he know his attacker was a ‘big woman?’”

The two cops stopped and looked at each other.

“Good question,” Terence said.

“In the struggle that ensued, he . . . felt that his attacker was a woman,” Dalton explained uneasily. “And he thought he smelled perfume.”

“Have you ever thought that this Johan could be a pervert?” Sophia suggested.

There was a long moment of silence while she waited for an answer.

“Look, he called it in and we responded, okay?” Dalton admitted. “Now just answer our questions.”

“As a matter of fact, I will help you,” Sophia said. “I do not know this Johan, not here, not back in Hungary, where we have around ten million people living there. As part of my training, I go on long walks, and yes, I do it barefoot. I live several blocks down the street, so that house you picked me up at was on my path. I have been a new citizen of this country for about a month now, and a member of the Devil’s stable for the same length of time. That is all. Now in Hungary, even we are aware of the adage, ‘innocent until proven guilty.’ Since you have picked me up, you-” she pointed at Dalton, “have kept me in this room for almost an hour, and you have degraded me, like I was the devil himself. Now unless you have a charge to level against me, you have no reason to keep me here. Now let me go before I call a lawyer!”

The two looked at her, then looked at each other.

“All right, you can go,” Dalton muttered in a low voice.

“Thank you. Now how am I going to get home?”

Dalton was about to give a smart remark, but Terence jumped in with, “I’ll take you home.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll be right back, Dalton.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dalton said, and then pointed a finger at Sophia. “Little girl, I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”

“How dare you call me a ‘little girl?’ Perhaps one day, I’ll-” but Terence escorted her out before the rest of her reply was heard.

Chuckling to himself, Dalton spoke to the staff in the front room. “That woman calls herself a sumo wrestler,” he joked.

A woman brought in for “soliciting” sat at a desk while she was being processed. A redhead (at least she was that week, no one knew her real hair color for sure), Deloris stood 5’8”, most of it legs and silicone implants. She looked at Dalton and shook her head.

“You really aren’t too bright, are you, Dalton?” She said.

“I know enough to not get arrested,” he replied.

“That’s because you’re a cop. You couldn’t see she was a sumo wrestler?”

“Since she’s not a guy, and didn’t weigh five hundred pounds, no.”

“You really don’t get out much, do you? She’s probably big for her weight class, has thick leg muscles, a solid core, broad shoulders, and defined arms too.”

“I didn’t think you worked that side of the street,” Dalton remarked.

“I don’t; I have eyes. I’ve also watched their matches on satellite TV. Even the lightweight classes are pretty strong.”

“You have satellite TV, or your clients?”

“Dofus, everyone has satellite TV, or cable. My point is these are powerful women; you don’t want to mess with them.”

“Advice from a woman who puts herself on sale to any man with a buck.”

“Just for the record, Dalton, I wouldn’t offer myself to you if you had two bucks.”

The whole front room, staff and civilians all laughed at that line. Dalton grumbled, and walked into another room as he complied his notes.

“Again, I apologize for Dalton’s behavior. He’s rather rough around the edges,” Terence said to Sophia as he took her home.

“I should say I’m sorry for you for being partnered with such a horrible man,” Sophia replied.

“Only one more day, then I get a new partner.”

Sophia cocked an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yeah; all new officers at our precinct are assigned to Dalton for two weeks. The theory is if you can take two weeks with him, you could take anything.”

“Are you serious?”

“You spent over an hour with him, imagine everyday. There’s a list of people who didn’t last three days, much less two weeks. Fellow officers had told me life was much easier after two weeks with Dalton, and they’re in homicide.”

“So what keeps you going?” Sophia asked.

“The fact that I always wanted to be a policeman since I was a kid. I worked most of my life toward that goal; a lousy two weeks with some jerk isn’t going to stop me.”

Sophia nodded. “That’s very admirable,” she said. “Let me ask you a question, are you doing anything tonight?”

“No,” Terence said slowly. “Why?”

“Well, there’s a nice little restaurant I’ve been wanting to try, and I’ve been looking for someone to try it with. That is, if I’m no longer a suspect.”

“You’re not a suspect.”

“Well good. If I was, you could always call it surveillance.”

“My job is to protect and serve. I would be irresponsible if I couldn’t keep my eye on a ‘potential felon.’ I get off at five, I can meet you there.”

“Meet me at six. I’ll be standing out front.”

They traded numbers as well as information regarding the restaurant.

Dressed in nice jeans, loafers, and a blue polo shirt, Terence arrived at the restaurant. As promised, Sophia stood out to meet him. Her hair was tied in back, and she was dressed in a white sleeveless blouse, straight leg jeans, and leather barefoot sandals. She smiled brightly when she saw him.

Over dinner, they discussed a number of things. Terence found himself fascinated about Sophia’s sumo wrestling career.

“Currently we’re in the off season, but we’re encouraged to continue training so we won’t get soft,” Sophia explained.

“I don’t see that happening, with your diet, doing weights, walking several blocks barefooted and stuff. That last one must be tough on your feet,” Terence replied.

“In a sumo diet, you eat plenty of food, but not to excess like traditional sumo wrestlers do in Japan. We work out so much, what doesn’t get burned off becomes muscle. I’ve worked out so long; it’s like a part of me now. Regarding my walks, it’s nothing. I used to do karate for a while, so my hands and feet were already toughened before I did sumo.”

“I see,” Terence nodded.

“In fact, the bottoms of my feet are hard as stone, but I always make sure the tops are attractive. In fact, I’ve been told I have pretty feet.” She took the toes of her right foot and moved them slowly up Terence’s pant leg.

“Do you think I have pretty feet, Terence?”

“I do,” Terence smiled.

“I have a request, but it’s crazy,” Sophia said, moving her toes up and down his leg.

“I won’t know it’s crazy unless you ask.”

“Can I feel your hair?”

“You’re not the first one to ask me that. Sure, go ahead.”

Sophia ran her hand through Terence’s hair and smiled.

“As I thought, it feels like lamb’s wool,” she said.

Sophia looked into his eyes as she continued feeling his head and rubbing his leg. She motioned a waiter, and said in a breathy tone, “Check please.”

After they got into Terence’s car, Sophia continued feeling his hair, and said, “I would like to see one of those action movies I hear so much about. How about you?”

“Sure,” Terence replied. However, he had the feeling that whatever the movie was about, he would barely have any memory of it.

A few days later, Dalton took a walk in a public park. Dalton didn’t take time off very often, save for the mandatory day off that his boss demanded he’d take. The reason was so he wouldn’t hog the overtime, but mainly it was so the crew would have at least a day off from him. On this day off, since he didn’t have anything better to do at home, he went to a park that was normally deserted to think. He stopped at a small stone bridge that sat about ten feet over a dry creek bed. The creek bed only came to life after sudden downpours. The rest of the time, it received more use from joggers and mountain bikers.

The incident involving Johan was eventually whittled down to a failed burglary attempt, and Terence was now patrolling a quiet beat with his new partner. Dalton looked forward to breaking in the next rookie. However, he wasn’t comfortable with the Johan case.

People would say he’s being stubborn, among his other faults, but he’d solved many cases because of his tenacity. But the case and everything about it seemed a little too . . . weird. On the surface, Sophia’s alibi seemed rather solid, but the odds of finding a former Hungarian native pass by the home of another former Hungarian native in the middle of America, where there wasn’t too many Hungarian natives seemed too high a coincidence. And one of the tenants they taught you in police academy was except in extreme cases, do not believe in coincidence. Everything regarding her checked out, but still . . .

And it wasn’t just Sophia either. A second interview with Johan provided more questions than it did answers. Oh, he answered the questions all right, but he acted too much like a man who had something to hide. Shortly after the questions, Johan just said it was a simple burglary attempt, and he got carried away when he made the call.

There were problems with that explanation too. People who broke in to steal things tend to do just that; the best could do it with people still in the house sleeping, or otherwise occupied. But they avoided being seen. By the same token, people who broke in to attack tend to do just that, and then try to make it look like a robbery if they’re so inclined; but generally they flee after the damage is done. The complex or complicated stuff is generally limited to movies and TV.

Despite the case being closed, Dalton did a little digging on Johan’s background before he entered the states. Interesting history. No wonder he thought someone was out to get him; because they were. This changes things. Now he just needed to find a way to get the case reopened, so he can nail the creep, and ship his butt back to Hungary, so he could rot . . .

“Officer Winter,” a voice said behind him. He turned and saw Sophia facing him. She was dressed in a blue tank top and white pants, similar to the bottom part of a karate gi, Capri cut, exposing her muscular legs and bare feet. She gave him a smirk.

“What are you doing here?” He barked.

“This is, as they say, a free country, no? Since there seemed to be a lot going on where I walked before, I decided to do my walking here, where it’s quiet. Makes sense, yes?”

“Yeah, whatever,” he mumbled as he turned back to stare at the creek bed some more.
“I found out quite a bit about you, Officer Winter, or perhaps I should call you Dalton, since I’ve gotten to know you so well,” Sophia explained.

“Or perhaps you should stick with ‘Officer Winter;’ only those close to me call me Dalton,” he growled.

Sophia laughed lightly. “That’s funny, since you don’t have anyone close to you. The police force can’t stand you, your ex-wife hates you, and some of the people you arrest would rather be in solitary confinement over spending five minutes in a car with you.”

“What? How did you find out – what are you doing here?”

“I think someone should teach you a lesson in manners,” Sophia said, folding her arms.

“And you think that person is you?” Dalton yelled, his pulse pounding.

“Yes I do. It shouldn’t take too long.”

Dalton used his peripheral vision to scan around him. As usual, the park was empty, save for the two of them. He’s off-duty, so there wouldn’t be ramifications that would hurt him too bad, and after he cleaned her clock, it would be her word against his. He would leave right after it was over. He raised his fists.

“You’re right, it shouldn’t take long. I was in Golden Gloves, and I still box on a semi-regular basis,” he replied.

If he expected Sophia to be intimidated by that, it didn’t work. She shrugged. “I fought boxers before,” she said.

Dalton eyed her. “I knew there was something different about you.”

Oh there are a lot of things about me that are ‘different.’ It’s time to take your medicine.”

He was more surprised as Sophia fell into a karate stance. So she actually wanted to do it. Well one good punch should finish it. One good punch should put her away.

“It’s a good thing you haven’t had children, for they would hate you too,” Sophia taunted.

Calling Sophia a number of names that were profane and unladylike, Dalton swung two punches. Sophia responded by ducking one, blocking the other and sent two straight punches into his chest.

Dalton jumped back. Those two punches actually hurt. This woman knew how to hit. He needed to keep his cool. He charged in, ready to deliver a knockout blow to end this quickly. He quickly stopped and leaned back. Sophia’s fist was only an inch from where his face would’ve been.

This time it was Sophia’s turn to go on the offensive, as she delivered two more straight punches toward his upper body. Dalton easily blocked them, but he found out too late it was a setup, as Sophia delivered a left shin kick with tremendous force.

Dalton thought he heard as well as felt a couple of ribs give way. The sudden pain distracted him from Sophia’s next move, as she slammed her right fist into his solar plexus. Suddenly, Dalton couldn’t feel his legs. He couldn’t find the air to breathe. The next sight he saw was the dirty sole of Sophia’s right foot as it struck him on the forehead. He spun around and fell against the side of the bridge. If his legs didn’t give out, he would’ve fell over into the creek bed below. His cheek felt the cool surface of the stone and concrete railing; and then he felt a hand grab him by the hair, and pull his head up.

“Just so you know,” Sophia said from behind him, “I couldn’t take care of Johan because I allowed him too much time. But that’s all right, I took care of it this time. As repulsive as you are, you appear to be a good detective. But you’re getting too close to the truth, and I’m sorry, but I can’t allow that. Now you have no time at all. I wonder how long they’ll miss you.”

Sophia took a slow intake of breath, and then delivered a sudden exhale as she slammed her fist into the back of his neck. She felt and heard the familiar sensation of vertebrae breaking in his neck. This was also something she done before. It was one of her signature moves.

The deed done, she hefted the body over, sending it to the creek bed below. A jogger or mountain biker should find the body by morning at the latest. She got off the bridge, and walked off the path into the grass toward a hill, where her car was parked on the other side.

At their first dinner date, Terence remarked that the Europeans took their sumo seriously. He was correct; even serious enough to kill for it.

Sophia’s coach and owner of the stable in Hungary was a man named Gunther. He trained the women hard, and made them a formidable force among the other sumo powers. They loved their coach, and would do almost anything for him.

Then one day, in the form of five men, the fun ended for Gunther. They asked him for a share of his stable. When he said no, they reminded him he had a wife and children, as well as several wrestlers who could “disappear” if he didn’t comply. Seeing no choice, Gunther did.

First, things were the same as usual. Then they started to “suggest” that the ladies could be available for other things. When he found out those things included throwing matches and prostitution, Gunther put his foot down, and decided to strike back.

The five men allegedly had connections with the local police, so he couldn’t go to them. So he struck back the best way he knew how. One night, he gathered a group of wrestlers who previously had experience in fighting or had a martial arts background. With tears in his eyes, he explained the situation he was placed in. Then he presented his idea, pointing out that it would be potentially dangerous and he fully understood if they didn’t want to go through with it. No one would be able to get them out of their current situation but themselves. The strategy would involve espionage, the planting of incriminating evidence, and if it came down to it . . . some elimination.

To Gunther’s surprise, the sumo wrestlers that he summoned agreed. Sophia and Janet, a lightweight wrestler who was skilled in judo, agreed to do the necessary wet work if it came down to it. They started with their plan.

Planted evidence brought down one of the five; however the remaining four were a little craftier. They had to be eliminated.

When Janet competed in judo, her specialty was groundwork, particularly chokes. She took care of two of the five by the method of seduction. As she and the victim rolled together in what seemed like the heat of passion, Janet would clamp on one of the many chokes or strangles she knew, and held on until her prey ceased moving. Then she would arrive home and take a long hot shower.

Sophia was less deceptive. She would just wait until her victim was alone, then break him with board-shattering punches and kicks. She killed one of the five, and a few people who worked for him, including a corrupt policeman. Johan, who sensed that something was going on with one friend imprisoned, and the others found dead, fled to the United States. And Gunther had his stable back.

Sophia always had the desire to go live in the US, and one day, she told Gunther she was going to leave. As a gift for all he had done for her and the stable, she was going to track down Johan and finish the job. Gunther wished her well, and before she left, they tracked down Johan’s current location.

When Sophia suggested that Johan was a pervert, she was not far off from the truth. When she broke into his apartment and entered the living room, Johan was stretched out on the sofa watching porn. Not just any porn, but porn involving the deflowering of little boys and girls by burly men. Sophia gasped at the horrific sight, allowing Johan to pull up his pants and flee to the bathroom, where he called 911. The only thing that tipped him off that his attacker was a woman was the figure he saw in the light, and the gasp that Sophia uttered. Finding she couldn’t get in the bathroom, Sophia estimated she only had mere seconds to pull off her sweatsuit and place it in a tree, where it was hidden by leaves. She was in the process of walking away from the building when a nearby squad car pulled up.

Later, Sophia admitted to herself she overreacted when they placed her in the interrogation room. She started to wonder how much Johan knew about the deaths of his comrades. Then again, unless Johan knew beyond a shadow of a doubt it was her (and she wore a mask, and it was dark, so how could he), there was no reason to detain her like that. Dalton was obviously showing off his authority to try to impress Terence. But that was all right, she took care of it.

Two days later, when Johan took out the garbage behind the house, he found himself face to face with Sophia, wearing the sweatshirt and sweatpants she wore before, but no mask. She wanted him to see his executioner. With the memory of the filth Johan viewed still fresh on her mind, along with his other offenses, she proceeded to beat him to death, hammering his head and body with blows from her hands, elbows, knees, and feet. When they discover his broken body, they’ll see the selection of child porn and evidence of his connections to organized crime in the US and Hungary. She phoned and told the news to a happy Gunther and his stable. After she hung up, it was time to take care of Dalton.

As obnoxious as he was, Dalton was actually a good detective. It would’ve been a matter of time before he found out Johan’s crime connections and eventually realize that Sophia was really out to kill him. Johan was supposed to be her last target, but Dalton was a loose end she couldn’t afford to let go. Since everyone disliked him, and had an ex-wife who hated him and wished him dead, Dalton made the perfect target. When people would find his body, it’ll be easy for them to assume that he was brought down by one of his many enemies. It’ll take forever to figure out which one.

And now she was done. Tonight, she would be seeing Terence again. Things between the two of them were going great; as long as she never mentions her dirty little secret with Johan and Dalton, the relationship should continue to go well.

Thinking about the last thing put an extra skip in Sophia’s step. Life would now be focused on sumo and Terence, now that she tidied up her loose ends.

***

If you have enjoyed this story, perhaps you may want to read other stories from the Barefoot Heroines collection. There are a variety of stories to choose from. They can be found at http://www.thevalkyrie.com/stories/mongoose/index.htm.

Any comments, suggestions, or story ideas, email the author at shrewsberry@juno.com.

©2011, Barefoot Heroines, Inc.