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I couldn't get Bridgett out of my mind's eye as I drove back to the office. I was fortunate, mid afternoon traffic was light and I made it back without causing a wreck. It was not uncommon for me to be able to focus on a case, turning the evidence over and over until a path to the answer presented itself. This was different. It was almost as if Bridgett was so big that she was blocking my mind's view of the case.

Evidence of my distraction presented itself when I wandered back into the squadroom. Jim gave me a quick update, as soon as I walked in. I stopped, looked around, realized where I was and said the first thing that came to mind, "Huh?" Oh, man. Somehow I knew it would be a long time before I heard the end of that brilliant and inciteful response. I saw Jim start to smile at my rapidly falling "cool factor" and decided that an aggressive response was in order. "What, who?" Well, that could have benefited from a bit more thought.

Jim's response confirmed my assessment. His welcoming smile at my return was rapidly evolving into your basic belly laugh with an advanced knee slapper. It seemed unusually warm in the office, come to think of it. Maybe I was coming down with something. One could hope.

I patiently waited until Jim had recovered enough to continue, without choking. The last thing I wanted to do with Jim, was rescue breathing. I could wait.

When he could talk again, he was obviously trying to help me re-focus on the case. He said "You know, the dead, flat guy... From the park.... The lake? Roger Johnson? Is it coming back to you yet, Junior? The digital photos will be here soon, if you think that will help." He just broke up again. It was good to see that a guy that had been around death for so long, still enjoyed his work. I was glad I could be a part of it. I just wished he would quit calling me "Junior".

When he recovered this time, he said he was ready to brief me, now, if that wouldn't be too much of a burden for me. I stuck with a simple affirmative. I didn't want to start another of those laughing fits and have that linked to a fatal heart attack, or something. I figured I had enough problems to deal with, at the moment.

Bob, Jim and the techies had been busy after I left them. Our tentative ID of Johnson had been verified. The hide, where we had thought the attacker had waited for Johnson, provided evidence that Johnson himself had been the one waiting in ambush. The bat, a vintage Al Kaline, 34 inch/34 ounce, was his as well. That information rolled over the thought process and caused us to start over. Johnson had been the attacker. But, the attacker of whom? Where had that person gone to? What the heck made that weird imprint?

The consensus assessment of Johnson's planned assault/robbery was: 1) The planning wasn't bad. Location, weapon, time of day, that kind of thing. 2) His execution of the plan could have been better. He presented himself and got flattened, after all. Charitably, they figured that probably wasn't part of his plan. 3) It couldn't have happened to a better candidate.

Seemed like a pretty accurate assessment, to me.

It had been quite a day already, but, it wasn't over yet. As calmly as I could, I checked my messages. Whew! No call from I. A., to talk about a complaint or schedule an exit interview. If I got my mind back on task, I might still have time to make a contribution toward solving this case before I had to come up with a new name, for my Commercial Truck Driver's License. It had been a long time since my ego had endured a day like this. Geez, what a day!

I retreated to the Criminal Records data terminal and logged in with my password. So began the really boring part of most investigations. As was normal procedure, I did criminal record checks on all the players in the case, first.

Ms. Moore had no criminal record in any state. She didn't even have a traffic ticket, in the last 5 years. No surprises there. O.K., on to Johnson.

The only surprise in Johnson's record was how many cases could be cleared with his death. I was shuffling through Johnson's file, looking for someplace to start asking questions. I wouldn't be surprised if we had to reassign a detective from the Robbery Section, due to the drop in work load. What a piece of work, this guy was. Emphasis on WAS. When not pronounced out loud, "piece of work" in this case, is read as "good riddence".

I already knew Johnson was a "Bad Guy" in the truest sense of the phrase, but I had to wonder what he was doing out of the lockup at all. He had been arrested 12 times, since the age of 18. I didn't waste time wondering what his juvenile record looked like, since the JV records are sealed upon reaching the 18th birthday, in this state. He sure hit the ground running at 18. His arrests ranged from Disorderly Conduct, to an Armed Robbery. He only did 3 years on the armed robbery and was released last March. He must have learned something in prison. He hadn't been caught again since he got out, if you didn't count this morning.
He was suspected in 9 more crimes, 4 robberies, 2 assaults with a baseball bat and, hummmm, looks like he was graduating, 3 rapes. There wasn't enough hard evidence in the 9 cases put together to even pick him up for questioning. The morning's events were looking more and more like a happy coincidence.

I started looking at individual case files, searching for similarities. This was interesting. The last Robbery/Assault (hmmm, that's good, no rape. I hate that!), had occured at the same park where Johnson had been found this morning. The victim, Penelope Robinson, lived on Grand Pine Road. Hey, I'd seen that street today! I pulled up a County map and located Grand Pine. It was one street east of Grand Fir, Bridgett Moore's street. Interesting. Time for another Real Police Secret. One of the first things you learn is coincidences happen, but not very often.

At the thought of her, the mental image of Bridgett popped back into my head. We were outside. She was kneeling over me, looking down and smiling a knowing smile. The feeling of her lifting me, effortlessly, and dragging me across that huge, soft belly rushed back to me. Her powerful, heavy belly was resting on the right side of my chest and my right arm. I couldn't move my arm at all. When I tried to rotate out, she put a hand on my left shoulder and leaned some of her considerable weight on me. She was just chuckling at my attempt to escape. She leaned further over me and her giant breast pressed my head back against the ground, blocking out the sun and cutting off my breath. Her soft, warm stomach pressed down, flowing across my chest and pinning me, without any doubt, to the dirt trail. I saw flashes of light on the inside of my eyelids. As I began to fade out, I realized that my left arm wouldn't move. Her stomach was completely covering me, holding me down, from one side to the other. My view moved to above Bridgett, looking down. My legs, from the knees down were sticking out, but that was all. I was completely helpless, underneath her. I experienced the predictable, by this time, tightening in my underwear.

GEEZ. If this continued, I was never going to get anything done. I forced the images out of my mind and tried to control my breathing, while I read Penelope Robinson's statement. Ms. Robinson's statement said she had finished her workout, in the pavillions weight room, then started walking back to her car. Her car was parked at the far side of the lake, so that she would get an aerobic walk in, to go with her weight training. As she was walking back to her car, a man jumped out of the bushes. She looked down at him, in shock. He was demanding money, holding a baseball bat raised high, as if to swing it at Robinson, if she didn't comply.

She looked down at him? How tall is Robinson, anyway. I located the cover sheet of her statement and found her physicals. Holy smoke! What's in the water out there? Robinson was listed at 5 foot 11 and 275 pounds! O.K., so Robinson is almost 6 feet tall, and she was looking down at the creep with the bat. That certainly didn't take away from the theory that her attacker was Johnson. The M.O. was consistent, anyway.

Robinson didn't have any money with her. She panicked and tried to run away, but was hit repeatedly with the bat as she ran, until she fell down. The low life beat her unconsious and left her there to die. After the assault, Robinson couldn't remember what her assailant looked like.

Robinson was found, and the assault was called in by....what are the odds? Bridgett Moore was Robinson's workout partner. She had stayed to finish a few more sets and was riding her bike home when she found her friend, pounded into the dirt. Moore had accompanied Robinson to the hospital, waited for Robinson's relatives to arrive, then gone home.

While it is true that I didn't ask, Ms. Moore never mentioned the incident with Robinson. Robinson had been attacked 3 weeks ago. If nothing else, I would think she would have brought it up to point out the need for increased patrols. Coincidence? Maybe.

It was well past quitting time and a detective from the swing tour was bugging me to use the terminal. I noted the hospital Ms. Robinson had been taken to, and her address, so I could contact her the next day. I logged out of the system. I figured I would go workout and let my mind wander over the problem, before I went home to another frozen dinner.

I arrived at the office a bit early the next morning. I wanted to get my case logs from the day before caught up, then clear out of the office. I didn't want to be hanging around when the guys from I. A. finished their second cup of coffee and got around to deciding who to torture....I mean interview, today.

I checked with the hospital and found that Ms. Robinson had been allowed to go home, just the week before. I called her home and set up an appointment for later in the morning, since she was just leaving for a physical therapy appointment. The doctors told her she was going to be in therapy for several more weeks, possibly a few months, to completely recover. She was anticipating a full recovery. I told her that was good news and confirmed the appointment time, before hanging up.

I met with Jim and Bob, filling them in on most of the information I had dug up yesterday. I found myself minimizing the connection of Ms. Moore's involvement in both cases. That seemed odd to me until I thought about it. At this point, it really was just a coincidence. Robinson and Moore lived in the same neighborhood and went to the same nearby place, to work out. It seemed pretty reasonable that one or the other would be nearby when something happened. Anyway, it sounded good to me that way. The prevailing thought around the squad room, regarding Johnson's demise, was openly apathetic leaning toward ecstatic. He had made a choice and he reaped the consequences. Too bad. It still had to be thoroughly investigated, and that's what we would do. We all agreed that I should keep my appointment with Ms. Robinson, just to cover our bases.

I rang the bell at Ms. Robinson's house at the appointed time. I was surprised when the door opened and I was looking up into Bridgett Moore's smiling face. I felt a warm rush start to come up when I saw her, but I wasn't as awed as the day before and managed to be reasonably articulate, right from the start. We exchanged greetings and I told her that I was there to see Ms. Robinson. It turned out that Bridgett was the physical therapist that Ms. Robinson had seen. They had just gotten back from the session. Bridgett was still wearing her workout clothes. She was wearing a thin, light gray sweatshirt and dark blue sweat pants. They must have been 5x, but they fit her like they were tailor made. She sure made those sweats look good. I was prepared for the handshake this time and she still took me to the limit. She seemed to enjoy that. She sure had a beautiful smile.

I moved past Bridgett as I entered the house, realizing again just how big she was. Bridgett offered me a seat, saying that "Penny" was still in the shower. She seemed disappointed that I took a chair instead of sitting next to her on the couch. Her awesome ass covered up 2 of the 3 cusions on the couch! Bridgett said she would keep me company until Michelle was ready to talk. I took the opportunity to apologize about my unprofessional conduct from the day before. Bridgett seemed surprised, and dismissed the incident. She said that Penelope was still recovering from the attack and warned me not to tire her out too much, since they had been pushing pretty hard with the P.T. She didn't want to risk a set back.

Bridgett also mentioned something that wasn't in the case file. Penelope had told her the jerk that beat her, said she was too fat and ugly to rape. Bridgett said she was almost as upset about that as about the attack itself. Bridgett asked that I be very careful about that part of my interview. She said Penelope was too embarrassed about that to tell the investigator.