Detective Donglen Finds His Prey
Detective Peter Donglen had just about forgotten about the Noreen Nymfome case when he got a call.
“Hello, my name is Jasmine and I’m calling from the FBI Bureaus of Missing Persons. Am I speaking with Detective Peter Donglen of Chillicothe, Missouri? Oh, good. I wanted to let you know we’ve got some updates on the Noreen Nymfome case. Of course, we cannot give out that information over the phone. To see the updates, you’ll need to login to the Department of Justice’s NaMus database for the latest tracking and forensics data on your subject.”
“Okay. Um, I’m just curious – I’m glad you called and all, and you have a nice voice, but these days doesn’t DOJ just send out texts for updates like this? I mean, at least automated voice messages – press 1 for this, press 2 for that, press 9 to hear this menu again. And if you press any number, you’ll go through the whole rigamarole again, press 1 for this, press 2 for that, etc etc. I must admit, though, it is nice to hear a pleasant voice for a change.”
“Sir, at this time. I must inform you at this time that what you’ve just said, pursuant to Code of Federal Regulation 29 Section 1604.11 may or may not constitute sexual harassment.”
“Huh? Sexual harassment?”
“Yes, sir. Once I hang up, I will file an Incident Report after which you may or may not hear from our legal department.”
“May or may not?”
“Yes sir. Now as to your comments regarding our notification system, it currently consists of mainframe computers and pneumatic tubes. We are currently in Phase 1D of our 5 Phase Information Systems Upgrade and Modernization Plan which we hope to complete at some unspecified time in the future.”
“Unspecified time?”
“Yes, sir. Do you have any more questions?”
“Well … hmmm … I think so…”
“Thank you and have a good day, sir.”
Donglen was nervous and pulled out a stick of Nicorette gum, looked at it, then tossed it. The hell with it, he thought, who is he fooling, trying to kick a habit of twenty years. He sure as hell didn’t need some kind of sex police breathing up his ass. He went outside – this called for the real stuff. He reached inside the polyester lining of his cheap suit jacket and pulled out the stash – six unfiltered Camels and a classic After Dark matchbox in a Ziploc bag. He fetched a cigarette, pulled a match out of the box, struck it on the sole of one of his well-worn black leather wingtips, lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply. Oh, sweet Jesus.
After he was done, he went to his office. There he pulled a 3×5 dark blue Moleskin notebook from his jacket and turned to the back pages where all his ids and passwords were for the stupid web sites he had to deal with. He pulled up https://namus.gov and logged in with pdonglen@chillicothecity.org and the password 123&abc
And voila! there was Ms. Nymfome’s Chillicothe photograph and profile.
The last entry noted she was living in Las Vegas, working as a high-priced escort under the name Priscilla for an exclusively Elvis Presley impersonator clientele. He called her business number. Surprisingly enough, she answered in a soft, silky voice.
“Hi there, Teddy Bear, it’s Priscilla. Why don’t you come up and, uh, see me sometime? I’ll love you tender or love you roughly, make your dreams come true, ok? I’m free tomorrow afternoon, yes?”
The detective felt a slight stirring in his nether regions. He cleared his throat “ Hi, uh, Priscilla, I mean that is … okay, let me start over, I’m Detective Peter Donglen of the Chillicothe police department and I know that I’m really talking to Dr. Noreen Nymfome, lately of Chillicothe, Missouri.”
A pause, then flatly, “What do you want? I didn’t do anything. Who wants to know besides you?”
“Well, Dr. Nymfome, your business partners reported you missing after your last visit with a client.”
“So, what am I charged with? I didn’t do anything.”
“Actually, your former colleagues have declined to sue for breach of contract. They just want to know that you’re okay. Please state for the record that you are indeed Noreen Nymfome and we can close the case.”
“Yeah, and thank that guy, the client that sounded just like Elvis. He inspired me to follow my dreams. I’ll make more money than you ever will, city dick. Speaking of your city dick, why don’t you come out and, uh, see me sometime? I’ll make it worth your time, sugar.”
“Let me check my calendar…oh, wait a minute! What is this, entrapment? Thank you for your time, Ms. Nymfome.”
“Sure, sugar. Now fuck off.”
And that’s how the Missing Person case of Dr. Noreen Nymfome came to an end.
Copyright © Johnny Clack 2022
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