Detective Reynolds

The guys just love to send the only female detective on the force out on these crazy cases. First thing in the morning and they want me to check on some dead perv found naked in a black market stag film drive-in. I'm not sure which is weirder, the dead naked guy or the idea of an illegal drive-in. By the time the coroner takes him away and I get back to the station its already nearly lunch time.

That's the life of Detective Justine Reynolds for you. Chase the prevs and rescue kittens from trees while the boys get the exciting stuff. Coroner thinks our buddy at the drive-in died of a heart attack. Witnesses, the two we could get to talk, say he was with a woman. Both of them were looking right at her but all they can remember is that she was pretty and wearing driving gloves, a snakeskin jacket, red biker boots and glasses.

So I processed it like a crime scene, vice crimes, not murder. Its going to take hours to write everything up but the dead body isn't part of it. According to our witnesses, the vic had a nice time with his mystery girl and seemed fine when she left. Just a random heart attack like random happily married guys have sometimes when fucking their mistress in an illegal drive-in porno theater.

By the end of the day there's still something I can't shake about the whole thing. Two pervs who can't remember a girl's hair color? A thirty year old dead of a heart attack? It just doesn't add up. Its not necessarily murder. Its just weird.

Being the only female detective in the office means working later than all the guys. That's not just because I have to prove myself day in and day out, which I do. Its because there's no locker room and I don't care to give them a free show when I hang up my uniform. I catch enough shit for the tattoos without them finding out how far down they go.

If the boys knew I had a date, I'd never hear the end of it. Hell, if they saw this dress I'd never hear the end of it.

Doubly so if they saw my date. She's probably enough to get me fired. When we meet outside her house or mine either we're "friends from high school" or we have to go somewhere dark, somewhere private in public. The irony of seeing her at the drive-in does not escape me.

Nor does what we do there but I don't think the details of that are any of your business.

Now if only I could figure out what's been bugging me about that dead guy at the drive-in.

Editor's Note 1: You're going to want to look at the larger version of that last picture. Trust me.


Editor's Note 2: Special thanks to Officer Justine. The famous "deleted scene" from the above sequence has brought the staff of Devil Girl Productions hours and hours of enjoyment.