Elixir Sapphira Stone
Tapping my pen against the clipboard, I read the name scratched across the intake form: Elixir Sapphira Stone.
I turned and peered through the one way glass. It was my first really good look at her. The desk sergeant was right; she’s a hottie. Her demeanor appeared to be as cool as a cucumber.
I scribbled some notes under her name:
Stone is approximately five foot eight and 130 pounds.
She has the curves of a mountain road, with eyes that could melt the ice in your bourbon. Okay, professionalism has never been one of my strengths. So under that piece of poetic justice I simply wrote, brown eyes, full figure.
The subject has long curly black hair…VERY curly. Caucasian skin with an olive tone and freckles sprinkled across her face.
She’s wearing sexy black leather boots, the tiniest mini skirt and a sheer satin blouse with a lacy black bra.
Oops, can’t write that, change that to black boots, a skirt, and a white blouse with visible undergarments.
I stared through the glass. It was hard to take my eyes off of her.
Finally I wrote:
No visible distinguishing tattoos or scars.
After dropping the clipboard on a small table in front of me, I noticed for the first time that my pulse was pounding. This Stone woman was really something. The kind of gal that could make men weak, do things they wouldn’t ordinarily do. She’s involved somehow. I just knew it.
I poured two cups of coffee and stuffed my notes under my arm. Then I kicked open the door to interrogation room number 2.
She didn’t move. It was like I hadn’t even entered the tiny room. I put the coffee on the table in front of her and pulled up a chair. Then, I threw a pack of cigarettes in front of her.
We sat in silence.
Finally I said, “Elixir Sapphira Stone, that’s one strange name.”
“Tell me about it,” she said, “I didn’t pick it. Why don’t you just call me Ellie, everyone else does.” She examined the red gloss on her nails, never looking up to meet my eyes.
“So, I did some checking up on you Ellie. With a name like yours you should pop out of the mix like a coffee stain on a road map. But the funny thing is, I can’t find a single fact about you prior to three years ago.” I made a dramatic pause to let that sink in. “You want to tell me about that?”
Ellie turned on her hip and leaned forward, pressing her breasts tight to the table. She looked me in the eye before her gaze drifted down my chest and paused on the badge that hung from my shirt pocket.
“I can’t, Detective Finnegan.”
“And why is that Miss Stone?”
She pulled one of the cigarettes from my pack and I lit it for her. “Because I don’t remember anything prior to that, all I know is three years ago I opened my eyes and there I was hanging out with this guy Kentuky.”
I scribbled the name on my pad.
“Kentuky… that some kind of nickname?”
She tapped a little ash from her cigarette. “I don’t know. It’s the only name I ever knew him by, well that, and sometimes he goes on the internet by the name, Bellakentuky.”
As a detective we always watch for signs in the interrogation room, small things that tell us when a suspect is lying. But this gal was smooth. She was giving up nothing.
“So what does this Kentuky fella look like?”
“He’s about fifty, my height, average build, average face, balding, brown eyes, wears glasses… he’s got a nice smile and he always has a twinkle in his eye.”
“So you’re saying he’s just average.”
“Yeah, except for what goes on inside his head.”
I stared at her. It felt like we were playing a game of cat and mouse, and she was winning.
“What else can you tell me about him?”
“What do you want to know Detective?”
“Details Miss Stone. Give me some details.”
She picked up one of the coffee cups and took a sip. “Okay. He has a tattoo on each arm. No. He wasn’t in the military, just got a little crazy in his late teens. He loves pasta. He prefers a rainy day over a sunny one. When he was sixteen he knocked out one of his front teeth playing hockey. He married too young and waited too long to get divorced. He likes cats. He’s a nut for cleanliness and cleans his house almost every day. He loves motorcycles. He has a sense of humor, but it tends to be a bit off color. He doesn’t tan, he just burns. He takes his coffee with milk and sugar. He often dreams of being chased. He has spent most of his life estranged from his family, especially his mother. Am I getting detailed enough for you, Detective Finnegan?”
There was no mistaking her sarcasm, so I ignored it. “What does he do for a living?”
Ellie reared back and blurted out a loud snorting laugh that was uncharacteristic with her looks. She couldn’t stop the giggling, even as she leaned forward and snuffed out the cigarette.
“What’s so funny?” I asked
“Oh Kentuky…” She caught her breath. “Kentuky was constantly yammering on about how his mother was always asking him that same question. Hit my funny bone… that’s all.”
I glared at her. “Let me repeat the question Ellie, “What does he do for a living?”
She stopped, stared into space for a few seconds, and then looked at me.
I made a mental note that this question seemed to strike a chord somewhere deep.
“He writes. He takes pictures. He collects junk from the street and makes little statues out of it. He tries to paint artwork but they suck. He’s a dreamer Detective. You know the type.”
“He sounds like a fucking fruitcake to me.”
“Well, you wouldn’t be the first one to say that.”
“Let’s go back to his name for a second. It sounds like some kind of alias. Is he from Kentucky?”
“No. He’s from Minnesota.”
“Well that’s a hell of a long way from here. What brought him to this town?”
“A whim. One day he packed up and left. This is where he landed.”
I threw my pen down on the table. It rolled and landed in her lap. “You expect me to believe that!”
Ellie carefully picked up the pen and placed it back on the table. “It’s the truth.”
“And one crazy day you opened your eyes and there you were with him! And you have no recollection of your life prior to that day three years ago. That’s what you’re telling me?”
“And he never said a word about where you came from.”
“I never said that. He did say something. But I don’t think you want to hear it Detective.”
Now we’re getting somewhere, I thought to myself.
I leaned forward and crossed my arms on the table. “No Miss Stone, I very much want to hear what he had to say.”
Ellie then also leaned forward and placed her arms on the table. We were nose to nose. I could feel the heat of her breath and smell the sensuous aroma of some unknown perfume. “He dreamed me up Detective. And put me on paper. And I became real.”
“Oh come on Ellie! What kind of crap is that?”
“You wanted to know Detective, and I’m telling you, that’s what he said. One day he closed his eyes and tried to imagine if he were a woman, what kind of woman would he want to be, and there I was. Personally, I think I’m the kind of woman he lusts after. But that’s just my take on it.”
I leaned back in my chair and couldn’t stop a smile from rolling onto my face. “Okay. I’ll play ball. So one day, three years ago, you wake up with this guy Kentuky. Then the two of you hatched up this plot right?”
“No Detective. He hatched up the plot. He just made me a part of it.”
We were going nowhere fast. “Alright, alright, I’m going to need to talk to this Bellakentuky. Where can I find him?”
Elixir threw her head back and sighed. “He’s in Argentina.”
“Oh! So this son of bitch skipped town; left you holding the bag.”
“Not really. Skipping town implies that he did something wrong. What really happened Detective is that he found true love, and that true love happened to be in Argentina. So he left! He left for his true love.”
“Well here’s the deal Ellie. I got dead bodies all over town. I have a boat explosion in the harbor that was filled with crack cocaine. I have dead mobsters. I got a crazy old lady running around town scaring all the tourists with stories about ghosts. I have mysterious missing guy named Bellakentuky, and I got one extremely sexy woman sitting right front of me that couldn’t disappear in a crowd even if she wanted to; yet seems to have appeared from nowhere.” I leaned forward to emphasize my point, “And… Miss Elixir Sapphira Stone, all fingers point directly at you. You need to fill in the holes to this little story lady, or you, are in a shitload of trouble!”
Ellie stared at me, “You really think I’m sexy Detective Finnegan?”
The irony in her response caught me by surprise, and I felt embarrassed. “Probably shouldn’t have said that,” I replied.
Ellie’s hand touched mine, and her heat seared right through me.
“It’s okay Finnegan. I liked it. And just so you know, I can’t finish the story, only Kentuky can.”