An Award Winning Story
Alan Watkins sits in his office at the Trenton Gazette and stares out of the window. There aren’t a lot of really good, news-worthy stories to focus on lately. Just the usual business at the Capitol, some random burglaries, and the usual gossip.
Nothing Pulitzer worthy.
Alan leaves his office in search of the break room. He refills his coffee mug and looks out of the window to the Delaware River and Pennsylvania. It’s during moments like this that he usually goes in search of Stephanie Plum, the Bombshell Bounty Hunter. His series of stories on her earned him the designation of nominated finalist for a Pulitzer in Local Reporting two years ago. A Pulitzer nom is a rare and special beast and the Trenton Gazette was proud of his work, which is why he usually doesn’t mind reporting on her. Yes, it helps Joyce’s little feud with her and keeps his dick wet, but he would report on her anyway.
Stephanie Plum is interesting. She’s newsworthy.
She certainly has a more interesting life than Alan. Twice divorced with three kids who hate him because of his commitment to the job, Alan never really grasped the idea of work-life balance. After the second divorce, in which Joyce played a key role, he resolved to stay single. As long as he continues to write about Stephanie, Joyce will continue to sleep with him and that’s a no brainer.
He can work without a wife bitching at him, get Joyce to sleep with him when he feels a real need, and go home to a quiet house and quiet life. The only thing he misses about being married is having a meal waiting on him when he steps through the door.
Alan returns to his office, exhales noisily, and startes writing an insipid article on someone’s retirement party.
The first hint that he might have a Pulitzer-worthy story on his hands came from Linda Callahan at the local Hilton.
“Alan?”
“Linda! How are you?”
“Not desperate enough to sleep with you, you little rat,” she replies fondly. Alan grins. The Hilton is his preferred ‘romp’ hotel. “Anyway, are there any big conferences going on in Trenton or the area that you know about?”
He checks the calendars that he has. “No, why?”
“No public health seminars or trainings going on?”
His reporters’ radar is going full swing now. “No. Why? What are you hearing?”
“It’s not what I’m hearing,” she replies, “but what I’m seeing. In the past 24 hours, six investigators from the RWJF have checked in here. I’m wondering what’s going on.”
This is why Alan cultivates a contact at every hotel in Trenton and in Mercer County. When people check into hotels, it’s amazing the things they’ll tell the person at the front desk. Alan’s reporters’ radar is whirling around in excitement. “Any chance you can do some digging for me?”
“Nope. You want a Pulitzer? You do the digging,” she replies and hangs up.
One week earlier . . .
Eddie “Big Dog” Edwards is in a screening room in the Department of Public Health staring at his results in shock.
Cholesterol? Fine.
Testicular Check? Fine.
Blood Pressure? Diabetes? Vision and Hearing?
Fine.
STDs?
Gonorrhea and genital warts. He thought that the new growths looked strange but, since his annual was coming up anyway, he waited to ask. They didn’t pain him and his dick felt normal.
He looks down at his dick in shock and dismay. “Traitor!” he hisses.
The nurse walks in and looks at him sympathetically. “Thankfully, the genital warts can be cured with a cream and the gonorrhea with a seven-day course of antibiotics, but I am going to have to report this to the New Jersey STD program.”
“What?!” Big Dog is panicky. He can’t let this get out. He can’t let anyone find out.
She smiles sadly. “Yeah. State law. I’m required by law to report your test results within 24 hours of diagnosis.”
“Do you have to report my name?” If it’s anonymous, maybe it won’t be so bad.
She nods. “Yeah. Name, address, telephone, and full demographics. It all has to be reported but it’s confidential.”
Confidential? In Trenton? That’s bullshit. Big Dog sits down in shock. He wants to cry but he’s a man. He won’t cry. He can’t cry. “Where is it reported?”
“The state STD Program is run from right here in Trenton, just a few doors down. Everything is completely confidential, Eddie.” She looks at him solemnly. “I know Trenton is notorious for rampant gossip but the one place in town that never gossips is that office. People’s lives are at stake there. No one talks.”
The nurse puts her hand on his shoulder and presses slightly, forcing him to look at her. “You’ll need to tell your wife,” she says quietly. “You’ll need to tell all your sexual partners.”
He swallows hard and tries to figure out how he’s going to explain to Mallory that she’ll have to get tested. He slowly redresses and walks out into the warm October sun and stares at his car. He’s never dreaded going home so much.
All because he wanted to try butt stuff. It sounded like a good idea. No pregnancy to worry about and you still get to come. Now . . . he looks down.
His dick has never betrayed him so horribly.
Meanwhile, the nurse calls in the test results and notes that this is the seventh officer from Trenton PD to come in with a case of gonorrhea in the past two weeks. The examining doctor is beginning to get concerned that there is an outbreak in Trenton that may require further research.
It might be time to call the RWJF (Robert Wood Johnson Foundation) or the CDC.
Trenton PD is quiet. The men are not talking about their health scores, which is unusual. The Chief notices and is concerned. Usually the men come back from the ‘cough and poke’ bragging on their cholesterol numbers and teasing each other over whose ‘fat ass’ is going to have to go on a diet. This time, some of the men are talking, but most aren’t.
He’s also heard the rumors about the cops’ visits to Stark Street and the possibility of a STD outbreak in Trenton PD. That honestly makes his skin crawl. STDs. He shakes involuntarily.
Greg Ward walks into his office and sits down. Greg is not really the Chief of D’s here in Trenton. He’s a transfer from Newark, a placeholder until Morelli returns. Morelli has earned the position as Chief of Detectives and if he wants it, it’s his. Chief knows that this case he’s working now will make his name and if he doesn’t move fast to keep a young, smart, loyal man like Morelli, he’ll lose him to the FBI or any one of the State Task Forces.
Greg was more than willing to take the interim position. It gives him experience while he waits for his transfer to the State Gangs Task Force. It’s being reformed with new agents but, right now, they want to keep it quiet. So Greg is on loan and he loves the assignment as Chief of Detectives.
“Well?”
“So far, seven confirmed cases. Eddie Edwards today,” Greg replies solemnly. “There’s talk of calling the CDC. The RWJF is a definite.”
Chief leans back in his chair and closes his eyes. Shit! he thinks. This is a disaster. This is a public relations nightmare and a health hazard. He can just see the premiums on health care skyrocket. There’s a negotiation with the police union he’s not looking forward to.
“Thoughts?” he asks tiredly, looking at Ward.
Ward shrugs. “Problem is, anything official that we do will quickly make the rounds. We need to find out which men have been reported, is there a possibility of a criminal complaint later down the line, and how widespread the problem is in Trenton.” Ward looks at the Chief and smiles. “Since you can’t rule out IA, since there are at least two confirmed cases in there, you need to look outside.”
Chief sighs mentally. Only one real option then.
RangeMan.
Junior’s temporary assignment as XO is the most exhausting thing he’s ever done. Honestly, he wonders how Hal has time to eat, sleep, and screw Candy.
Then he remembers what Candy looked like in that G-string and he has to fight not to allow himself to get hard. Candy in a G-string would make a dead man stir. Between Steph’s porno noises while eating (and the way her ass looks in just about anything) and Candy’s entire body in anything, Trenton has learned the meaning of priapism.
Every man is suddenly more interested in finding a girlfriend. Hal’s the happiest man alive and, honestly, they like having both Steph and Candy around. They’re fun and they make life in the building fun.
Junior takes a break from his self-imposed exile in Hal’s office and steps out onto the floor. He runs right into Ram, who looks less than happy.
“I just got a call from Chief Dixon at Trenton PD.”
They both make a face and flip a finger on reflex. Trenton PD is tolerated at RangeMan. They’re the sorriest bunch of cops most of these men have ever known and it’s hard to respect them. Trenton PD tries hard and there are good men in the department, likes Steph’s cousin Gazarra, but on the whole, it’s hard to like them.
That’s without adding Morelli to the mix. Add Morelli and its miraculous the RangeMen don’t sneer at them all the time.
They’ve been hoping that Steph would choose Ranger for years because Ranger’s less of a moody bastard when she’s single. Now that she’s a RangeWoman, they’re doing everything in their power to ensure it stays that way. Plus, Steph being in the company means that they’re now leading the company for the first time ever.
The brotherhood in Trenton is tighter than ever before. Every man is truly his brother’s keeper because they all know that they each have a role in keeping the crown. Every man looks out for not only his partner but the men in his department. Brotherhood is taking on a new meaning in Trenton.
“What do they want?” Junior asks.
“Confidential but important. He wants to know if we’ll meet him and Lt. Ward here at 1400.”
Junior runs through the calendar mentally and shrugs. “I might be late because of the XO pulse check, but OK.” Ram nods and walks off.
At 1405, Junior walks through the door of Conference 4 and nods at both Chief Dixon and Lt. Ward. Each man nods back and Junior takes Hal’s normal seat, sits back and pitches his fingers. “Chief. How can we help?”
Ram has a fleeting thought that Ranger’s chairs must have a personality. Everyone who sits in them adopts his mannerisms, including the pitched fingers, hooded eyes, and carefully blank face. Even Steph. He wonders how Ranger managed to imbue the chairs with his personality through his ass.
“What we have to discuss is confidential,” Greg Ward opens by saying, and the RangeMen smirk.
Duh.
Chief turns to him. “The normal warnings and disclaimers are unnecessary with RangeMan, I promise you. We were never even here.”
“Got that right,” Ram says, amused.
Chief smiles. “Exactly. Anyway, we have an outbreak—”
“Of gonorrhea in Trenton PD. Nine officers. Three in IA, three detectives, three plain-clothes. Four identified with chlamydia and almost all of them with genital warts,” Ram says. “Itchy bastards.” The RangeMen smirk.
The police officers are stunned. “How did you know?” Greg Ward asks, leaning forward.
Junior and Ram lean forward toward Chief. “You’re aware we keep a wide array of information sources,” Junior says. Chief nods. “One source we have are the ladies on Stark Street. After all, Steph’s main contact in proving Morelli was innocent was Lula Jackson. After that, we cultivated a relationship with the ladies on Stark. We did it right, upright with our pants on. We treated them with respect and we help them as they need help. The ladies on Stark know that if they come to RangeMan, we’ll help them.”
Chief nods. He didn’t miss the numerous digs at Trenton PD in that sentence. He also didn’t miss the fact that the RangeMen knew what he wanted. He knows that in 80% of Trenton and Mercer County, RangeMan is more trusted for protection and help than Trenton PD. Only the Burg is a holdout, mostly because so many of his officers grew up in the Burg. They view RangeMan with suspicion because their sons, nephews, husbands, and fathers do. So he won’t like what he’s about to hear.
“Your men use intimidation tactics and the threat of arrest to force those women to talk. They later segued into simply using those tactics whenever they had an itch they needed to be scratched,” Ram says.
“Which is why we called them ‘itchy motherfuckers’,” Junior snickers. Both RangeMen look at each other and shake their heads. “Quite frankly, they’ve been using the ladies on Stark for years for recreational purposes, so we’re surprised this outbreak hasn’t happened earlier.”
Chief is stunned. The RangeMen knew all along? “You knew?”
Ram shrugs. “The ladies refused to talk. Check your records. You should have the records of 31 anonymous reports called in over the past three years. We tried but we took our direction from Lula, who, on the rare occasion that she would talk about her past, was clear that talking would put the ladies in more danger than keeping their mouths shut. Frankly, after a while, we saw her point.
After all, if they talked, they would end up trying to put the same men using them behind bars. They would be investigated by those men’s co-workers and friends. They had no confidence that they would be believed. Our ‘Good Samaritan’ efforts to help could cause them problems with both their pimps because of the increased police presence, and the cops, because of the attention.”
“You could have sent us video, recordings, something!” Chief says, astounded.
Ram and Junior both shake their heads. “We wanted to, believe me, but we thought it through. First, who else in Trenton, besides RangeMan, would have the skill, manpower, and equipment to post that kind of surveillance?”
Chief slumps. Good point. Even his department doesn’t have that kind of equipment, that many officers to devote to it, or the skill to get people to talk. Ward is simply astonished.
“Second, even if we managed to get the offenses on tape, you’d still have to have a corroborating witness willing to testify that the sexual acts depicted on tape were non-consensual. What jury is gonna believe a prostitute didn’t want to fuck a client?” Junior asks mockingly. Chief’s shoulders slump. “Plus, the pimps are pleased with it. Cops screwing their ‘hos means that the cops stay out of their areas unless they need a hit of the kitty. And they have the cops involved over a barrel.”
“And it’s a cop. Prostitute versus a cop. Who’s believable?” Ward’s shoulders slump. He has to admit, he’d believe his brother in blue first. “The cherry on this fucked-up sundae is that your men in IA are involved,” Junior continues. “So the same men charged with investigating ethical lapses by officers are also committing them. Like Ram said, none of the women were going to talk to you. Arrest or investigation would bring unwelcome attention on Stark.”
Both RangeMen drop all hints of joviality and look at the officers seriously. “Believe me, Chief,” Junior says, “we’ve wanted to say something. We really and truly have. But Tank told us that he learned from Lula that you can’t always save someone simply because they need to be saved. They have to want to be saved. They have to want to change. Even now, if the ladies on Stark are involved, you’ll have a difficult time getting them to talk because they won’t trust you. They have no reason to.”
Ram leans forward and stares Chief fully in the face. “Frankly, this outbreak is your corroborating witness. Your officers can’t outrun or deny an STD. This is your leverage. Use it.”
The plan is quickly devised. RangeMan will begin surveillance on Stark Street and in the surrounding areas to see which officers are visiting the prostitutes on Stark. Since the prostitutes will talk to them, they’ll question the ladies to get more information. Everything will be kept strictly confidential. Pimps know not to smack the ‘hos around for meeting with RangeMan. Nothing bad ever comes of it and the RangeMen have a tendency to repay abuse against the prostitutes 3x as hard. Best to just let the ‘hos work with them. Trenton PD will work with the state STD office to determine where the source of the infection is and start an internal investigation to determine exactly how many of their men are really affected.
Every officer who was diagnosed with an STD has an appointment to meet with the Chief in his office. Suddenly, every man in Trenton PD knows who was diagnosed because no one ever meets with the Chief unless it’s bad news or they’re about to receive a commendation. Going to Chief’s office for a meeting goes from an occasion for excitement to a walk of shame. Every affected officer steps out of the Chief’s office and feels as if he has a scarlet ‘STD’ on his forehead. Even the men who are meeting with Chief on a professional basis, not personal, feel affected by the judgment.
Trenton PD is a somber and unhappy place. Every man feels the weight of the silent judgment of his fellow brothers in blue.
The outbreak is spreading. When Chief met with RangeMan on Wednesday, the count was at 16 officers. By Friday at 5:00, the count is 23. Chief feels itchy and is considering spraying his chair with Lysol before sitting in it every time. He goes home to his wife and she’s excited. The news about an outbreak has reached the Burg gossip lines because the wives of the affected officers are starting to get tested. Chief groans.
“Larry, is it true?” Maureen is bright-eyed and astonished. Twenty-three men in Trenton PD with an STD? How nasty! The gossip has been running all day, speculating on who the officers are.
Chief sighs. “Maureen, you know I can’t confirm or deny anything going on at the department.”
“Yes, yes, I know that,” Maureen says impatiently. “Just tell me if it’s true.”
Chief sighs again, mentally this time. He loves his wife but she has a one track mind. Right now, she wants the gossip. “Maureen!” he says sternly. Maureen’s face drops and she looks at her husband in stunned dismay. That tone of voice means she’ll learn nothing.
Chief and Maureen go to bed that night, Maureen in a sulk because she’ll have to get the news from someone else and Chief with a headache because his wife is going to be the biggest pain in his ass until she learns everything.
“Bastard!”
“Mallory, let me—”
The plate hits Big Dog in the head and he backs up, tears in his eyes. Mallory isn’t upset. She’s furious.
“You cock-sucking, ho-fucking . . . motherfucking douchebag!”
Mallory sinks to the floor in tears. Her life is ruined. She was also reported to the state STD office. She wanted to take some sick days to figure out what to do about her marriage, her children, and manage her stress levels until this mess is clear. She tried to take them without disclosing why, but county policy requires a doctor’s note for more than three days. The doctor’s note was appropriately vague but the gossip around town made it clear: she has an STD. She asked for confidentiality at the HR department, but she might as well have asked for them to broadcast it from the highest tower in town.
She hoped she could brazen it out, but she’s watched all day as parents pulled their children away from her. No one would meet her gaze. People waited until she was out of sight to start whispering.
“I hear she has AIDS.”
“Really?!”
“Yes. Eddie probably gave it to her. They’re saying that the men got it from the prostitutes on Stark Street.”
“How horrible! Well, she’s not teaching my Daisy ever again. Can you get it from touching?”
“I don’t know but I’m with you. She can’t teach James. Not if she’s contagious.”
Mallory’s never been unfaithful to Eddie but he’s brought home a nasty disease and passed it to her. To her! She’s never been unfaithful. She’s cooked his meals, raised his children, and happily and enthusiastically enjoyed his attention in bed.
Apparently, she wasn’t the only one.
“Get out.”
The order is low and calm. Eddie crouches in front of his wife.
“Mal—”
“Get out, Eddie! Go fuck your ho! Go sleep with her. Just get the fuck out of this house!“
She sees Eddie’s feet appear in front of her and she reaches for the chef’s knife. The feet quickly disappear and she leans against her cabinets and sobs.
Upstairs, the three Edwards children huddle together on Eddie Jr’s. bed and listen to their mom sob. They’ve heard the whispers all day too. At six, four, and two, they’re too young to understand what all this means but they know Daddy did something really really bad. Mommy probably won’t give him any dessert for days. She’s yelling that loud.
Mallory Edwards spends the night sobbing against her kitchen cabinets. She can never teach in Mercer County again. No one will ever forget she once had gonorrhea.
“Hey!” ML.
“Hey!” Connie, Steph, and Lula. Connie’s filing her nails, Steph is in Miami, and Lula’s in San Antonio relaxing in her and Tank’s new bed. California king. Big enough for two king-sized people.
“You’ll never guess what’s going on here!” ML says, excited.
“What?” Steph asks. “Hey, did you ever find out what happened to Vinnie?”
Connie whistles loudly. “Harry stuck a Herbie Horsecock up his ass. Rammed it, really. No lube.”
Three sharp gasps. “Holy . . .” Steph breathes.
“Fuck!” Lula finishes. “How did he get it out?”
“I had to help him go to the hospital. Ever watched someone try to come up with a cover story for that? The hospital had to surgically remove it from his ass.”
Each woman shudders. The sight of Vinnie’s pale and scrawny ass is something no woman has ever wanted to imagine but now Connie’s seen it. “My condolences, Connie,” Steph says.
“Yeah. He’s still sitting on a doughnut pillow. The ducks haven’t had a visit in days. Anyway, you gotta hear what ML has to tell you.” Connie finishes filing and starts applying a base coat.
“What’s up, Mary Lou?” Lula says, curling up with another pillow.
“Oh my God! There’s a massive outbreak of STDs in Trenton.”
“What?” Steph says in confusion.
“Yeah. Started in the police department and now it’s spreading out everywhere. Teachers, firemen, bank tellers, it’s everywhere! It’s literally taken over the Burg. Your mom probably has details too, Steph. The police department is running an investigation and the RWJF is in town trying to learn more. No one knows how far or wide it’s spreading but one thing’s for sure so far.”
“What’s that?” Steph and Lula ask.
“The Burg has been hardest hit.”
Lula hangs up after that call and sighs.
Chickens came home to roost, her momma would have said. What’s done in the dark—
Lula puts that unforgiving woman out of her head and concentrates on what Connie and ML told her.
Trenton PD cops are in the center which means that the Stark Street girls are gonna be the first ones blamed. She knows her fellow ‘professionals’. The price triples if you want sex without a condom. One of the few things she knows is that condoms are not optional. They’re mandatory, even with the cops.
Besides, the girls get tested every week or two, never more than two. The one thing she enjoyed about getting tested, aside from knowing she was still clean (knock wood), was that the nurses and doctors didn’t judge. For the first few years, she had a real chip on her shoulder, waiting to hear a lecture. She never got one and, from then on, she respected those in the medical profession. They wanted to help.
The Stark Street prostitutes are not to blame but they’ll get the blame.
Those judgmental assholes in Trenton will think the Stark Street ‘professionals’ are the source of the problem.
Lula heads down to the fifth floor and looks for Tank. He’s in his office, staring cross-eyed at a computer screen.
“Tank?” No Tankie or Lula Bear in front of the men. Tank looks up and smiles. He motions for her to come in and she does, closing the door behind her.
“What’s up, Lula Bear?”
Lula settles in Tank’s lap carefully and smiles. Another ten pounds! Shit, leaving Trenton was all that was required for her to lose weight! She likes Lourdes but she misses Maria. So do the SA boys. They want Maria back! Steph’s trip to Miami can’t end too soon for everyone involved. She kisses his cheek and watches a slow smile curve his lips.
“I got some news from back home.”
“Yeah?” Tank’s closed his eyes and is enjoying the moment of calm with Lula. He was researching wedding transportation. Too many options. Horse-drawn carriage? Limo? Benz? Classic Bentley? Christ! He wants this to be special and memorable for Lula. She’s the love of his life and deserves everything good he can give her.
“There’s been an outbreak of STDs in Trenton. The Burg is the hardest hit,” she says quietly.
Tank rubs her back. “Worried about Jackie?”
That’s what she loves about her man. His first thought is for her old buddy Jackie. “Yeah. You think . . .” No need. Tank’s already reaching for the phone and Lula listens as it rings.
“Yo.”
“Sir.”
“Stark Street?”
“Investigating. PD asked for help. Jackie’s in a hotel, waiting on Lula’s call.”
Lula truly wants to cry. She’s not sure which RangeMan this is, but she loves him most of all. “Thank you . . . “
“Junior. You’re welcome, Mrs. LaPierre.” Click.
Lula laughs and Tank smiles.
Good. The boy isn’t stupid. The phone number and Jackie’s room number arrive minutes later.
Alan has been interviewing and harassing anyone he can think of for the past two weeks. The ‘professionals’ on Stark were clear: we’re clean. They brandished recent copies of discharge statements from the local health department that confirmed that they weren’t the source of the infection. The pimps are tired of him coming around and they’ve made sure he disappears, but he left his card with the most receptive girls.
Smart move.
Slowly, he starts getting the facts. Over the past five years, Trenton PD has been getting a ‘discounted’ rate from the girls on Stark in order to avoid arrest and prosecution. Discounted being ‘free’. Alan quickly files a Freedom of Information request with Trenton PD and realizes that the girls are being pimped by their pimps and the police.
Arrests for solicitation and prostitution on Stark are nearly non-existent. For such a well-developed vice area like Stark, that’s astounding and completely unbelievable. Alan makes an appointment with the head of Vice, but the head of Vice, well, all cops really, have been told to institute the ‘blue wall’.
‘Too soon to comment on an ongoing investigation,’ he’s told.
Alan’s running around in circles, trying to figure out what’s really going on and, slowly, the facts start to emerge and he starts writing. The first article was sensational.
And completely fact checked for truth. The second and third articles cause a run on the newspaper. Alan smells a Pulitzer in his future.
“Over the past five years, only 24 arrests for prostitution or solicitation have been made in the Stark Street area. Nevertheless, Stark Street, and the surrounding area, are well known in Mercer County as the center of the local prostitution trade,” ML reads. Connie, Steph, and Lula are quiet, listening via telephone. “What is still unknown is how the recent infection started or spread. The local prostitutes are checked regularly and, of the 24 this reporter managed to interview, only three had gonorrhea and all three were already on a course of antibiotics when this current epidemic began.”
It’s silent on the line.
“This is the first time I’ve ever really appreciated Alan Watkins’ reporting,” Steph says quietly.
“I agree,” Lula says. Jackie’s fine. She’s one of the three in treatment and she thinks she’s ready to get out of the game. Lula made good. Maybe Jackie will have that luck.
The officers harassing the Stark Street girls are slowly identified and the public hanging begins.
The Burg is silent.
These men are their men, their sons, fathers, and brothers, and they’re being embarrassed and treated horribly after putting their lives on the line year after year, day after day, for the citizens of Trenton and Mercer County. The embarrassment is deep. The gossip lines are quiet. No one wants to discuss this anymore. They want this to go away. It’s affecting the Burg.
Doesn’t matter. The smell of blood is in the water.
The state politicians, sensing an easy win, start railing against both dirty cops and prostitution and vice. It’s a win-win: by exposing the lack of arrests and the harassment of the prostitutes, the politicians get to carry their ‘family values’ banner, the ‘tough on crime’ banner, and the ‘tough on corruption’ banner.
The two state senators caught in the epidemic are shrieking loudest of all, trying to cover their misdeeds.
The police union is silent. There aren’t a lot of ways to fight this one. In the end, over 450 residents in Trenton were treated for gonorrhea. People from all walks of life: ministers, cops, firemen, teachers, gangbangers, former and recent inmates and housewives.
The true horror occurred when a few high-schoolers popped up in the treatment group. Who was preying on the children!?
Trenton PD had a black eye and Chief, sensing his head in the noose, sacked, demoted, and reprimanded officers. Big Dog and Carl were busted down to traffic, one step above dismissal. Both swallowed hard and accepted their demotions.
Their wives are still furious. Ann Constanza is seriously considering divorce. So is Mallory Edwards. Worse? Both women are furious with the other for not saying anything. They know their husbands were both involved. They’re partners. Where one is, the other is.
A fifteen year friendship, broken because of a gonorrhea outbreak.
Alan Watkins has been following the story for five weeks and the cringy, itchy factor has finally convinced him to make a trip to his doctor for a check-up. There’s just something about knowing you’re investigating sexual misconduct that makes you want to see a doctor.
Besides, lately he has a burning sensation when he pees.
The Physician’s Assistant steps into the room with two other men. “Alan, you have gonorrhea.”
If he had not been sitting already, he might have collapsed. “What! I can’t! I never slept with any of the prostitutes.” He’s panicking, trying to figure out how he got this. He’s dating someone new and the sex is outstanding. A month without sex? He’s ready to cry.
The PA sighs mentally. He’s heard that repeatedly for the past two months. It’s nearly impossible to believe now. “Alan, these two men are from the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation. They want to talk to you about your sexual partners.”
The PA leaves the room. He needs to get the antibiotics Mr. Watkins will need to treat himself. He wonders if Alan Watkins will include his own personal experience with an STD in the next article he writes.
Alan Watkins has done a great job reporting the problem but absolutely nothing to solve it. The health department has begged him to include more information about how to prevent and treat this but he’s been stuck on the licentious elements.
Maybe now that he’s the one itching, prevention will be a bit more important to him.
Everything in Trenton calms down for a while. A week later, the Burg’s new big story is Stephanie’s return from Miami. She’s tan, happy and healthy. She’s only home for a few days, but she’s a welcome distraction from the STD sex stories.
Now, if Morelli and Mañoso would just come home, they could start figuring out which one she’s sleeping with.
Almost simultaneous with Stephanie’s return, there’s another outbreak. This time, some of the local men caught it early and went back to the doctor. Everyone involved in the first outbreak was asked to come back in and be retested.
86% reinfection.
RWJF and Trenton PD are meeting at RangeMan again. They want to manage the information better this time and they need to get to the bottom of this. They thought the Stark Street prostitutes were the locus, because they were the only women the police officers had in common, but all the prostitutes are clean this time. It’s not them.
Again, Lula gets the info and she gives Tank a name. If it’s not her former crew, then there’s only one other ‘ho she knows.
“Yo.”
“Sir.”
“Details.”
“Ladies on Stark are not the ones. They’re tested regularly and the few with gonorrhea were already on treatment when this exploded. RWJ is completely confused and so are the cops. We’re meeting with them now.”
Tank snorts. Lula’s right. Only one other option then. “Patch me to the room.” There’s silence, then “Sir?”
“Here.”
“Tank. Good to hear from you.”
“Chief.”
“Please tell me you have an idea.”
“I do. Joyce Barnhardt.”
Every man in Trenton PD is questioned again and the one name no one was confessing is finally spoken.
Joyce Barnhardt.
The RWJF people are confused, but the local health department and the Chief understand immediately. Confessing to sleeping with Joyce Barnhardt would cause every wife in Trenton to completely lose it. They hate her. They despise her. Most were embarrassed to admit that some small part of them laughed their heads off when they heard that she’d been forced to become a prostitute.
They never considered that a prostitute needs customers.
Joyce is the one woman that most of the men in Trenton PD have always wanted to screw and never had a chance. Joyce was selective: if you couldn’t do something for her, you couldn’t do anything to her.
Now, as a ‘ho, Joyce didn’t have a choice. If you had $100, she had time.
Most of the men, confronted with the breasts and ass they’d long wanted to screw, lost their minds. No condoms (she’s a Burg girl! Of course she’s clean!), butt stuff, oral, anything they wanted, she had to perform. They knew she was ‘owned’ by the Mob but . . .
Most had waited a decade to have a chance. Now, they not only had a chance, they had certainty!
The RWJF investigators start putting the puzzle together. Joyce is at the center of the circle of influence, the locus. From there, it’s easy to see how quickly the infection spread. For Chief and the local health department, it’s illuminating.
They can see just who is sleeping with who, who is having sex but not having sex (the health department wants to scream and remind people that oral sex is still sex! Anal sex is still sex!), and how it’s spreading.
Joyce is the one who is infected. Gonorrhea in women is the ‘silent’ STD. Largely asymptomatic, unless there’s a questionable discharge or itching, it might not be caught for months, possibly years. Joyce caught gonorrhea from an infected partner, passed it to the Trenton PD cops, who passed it to the Stark street girls. The girls are tested weekly and biweekly, so their infections were caught early and effectively, which is why they threw off the pattern during the first investigation. The Trenton cops were identified because some had symptoms but, by and large, the annual examination fell at just the right time for their infections to be caught and treated. The Trenton cops passed their infections to their wives and partners and the next thing you know, we have an entire outbreak in one city.
So the Stark girls and the cops were treated but the original source of infection, Joyce, was never treated. And because the cops had not learned their lesson, Joyce reinfected all of them within six weeks and the cycle began again.
Joyce will have to be tested for everything under the sun. Gonorrhea, Chlamydia, HPV, AIDS, HIV, the entire gamut. She’ll need protection because until they can determine exactly what she’s carrying, she can’t work.
Joyce is owned by the Mob. This could get dicey. The Mob knows where all the Trenton PD safe houses are because they’ve been recurring visitors. That’s why they have to use creative locations, like Morelli’s house that once. RangeMen is Trenton PD’s new source for safe houses because no one can find them.
Chief rubs his temples and hopes he doesn’t have to ask RangeMan to protect Joyce Barnhardt.
Joyce and Stephanie hate each other. The Trenton RangeMen might hesitate if Stephanie can’t be talked into it. Chief calls RangeMan, prepared to fall to his knees and beg, but after Stephanie is given some basic information, she authorizes RangeMan resources to put Joyce in a safe house.
They’ll protect her for now and Stephanie will see what she can do with Harry. After all, Harry is kinda family. No promises but she’ll try.
Chief exhales.
Stephanie Plum is a much better person than Joyce Barnhardt deserves. Joyce has made Stephanie’s life a misery for at least 25 years but Stephanie is still prepared to help her.
Joyce looks around the cheap and dingy apartment and shudders. She’s stuck here for six hours tonight, trying to work off her ‘debt’ and have her life back again.
She strips slowly. She’s learned there’s no point in pretty panties and bras. There’s no point in pretending this is anything other than a business transaction. She does what they ask, they pay and leave. She can’t pretend she’s on a date or this is role play.
No. She’s a whore.
She’s learned not to cry anymore. Why? The men fucking her don’t care. The men who own her debt made sure that her first customers were the kind who weren’t moved by her tears or her promises. They made her earn her money. They laughed in her face and told her she was over thirty so she wasn’t the best they could get. She was just the easiest.
She tried to protest and insist on getting a different job. Harry looked at her.
“Why?” He laughed coldly. “You’ve used your body to make your way all your life. That’s why you were screwing Vinnie, right? What skills do you have? Your skill is lying on your back and trading your body for your needs. So I gave you a job that used your natural skills. Be grateful I’m not putting you on the street. I’ll bet that fat bitch that used to work for Vinnie wanted to know where your corner was.”
He flicked her hair away from her face and enjoyed the sight of her cringing from him. Just for that, he made her suck his dick for free. Not one penny off the debt.
Joyce amuses Harry, although she doesn’t know it. Harry had ignored Joyce and Vinnie as long as he could but when he learned that Lucille was still trying to have a baby with that slimy asshole, he realized that Joyce was a problem. Joyce could end up pregnant and demand Vinnie divorce his daughter and marry her. Joyce could pass Vinnie a disease that Lucille could catch. Joyce could end up getting Vinnie killed by another jealous lover or boyfriend.
After all, David Pickens was ready to string Vinnie up by his guts for taking his FTAs and passing them to Joyce. Vinnie could have ended up dead over work and Lucille would end up moving back home in grief. Hell no. Harry loves his daughter but Lucille and Loretta both at home?
He’d move out first.
So Vinnie needed to be taught a lesson and Harry thinks Vinnie’s got the idea now. Vinnie’s afraid of him again, the way it should be, and once he heals he’ll start working on the baby Luci wants and keep his dick at home.
Joyce? Well, he had to be creative with Joyce. Personally, he didn’t give a damn about her beyond how she affected his daughter but professionally she was a problem. She was a problem for Vinnie and David and she needed to be stopped. He realized that her debts were just high enough to force her hand. Marvin, his partner, thought up putting her on the streets. Harry later realized that Marvin spent hours screwing Joyce when they first set her up. Apparently, Joyce had been high on his list of women to screw before he died.
The cost of the apartment was added to Joyce’s total. He did the math. She should earn him an additional $13,000 before she’s free.
Joyce brushes her teeth, shaves her legs, and inserts lots of lube. Six hours a night. She used to laugh at Stephanie Plum’s disgust at ‘butt stuff’. Anal sex could be fun, with lots of lube and a good partner.
She’s not laughing anymore. The men use enough lube for them, not necessarily for her. She’s bought doughnut pillows for her ass and she moves gingerly after too many anal clients.
How do women do this year after year?
The next day, Joyce is moving around her apartment carefully. Her ass hurts horribly and so does her throat. She’s made a solemn pact: She’ll never do oral or anal again when her body is her own again.
There’s a knock at the door and she answers.
“Ms. Barnhardt?”
“Yes?”
“Hi. I’m from the health department. Do you mind if we come in and talk to you?”
Karma comes after everyone eventually. You can’t get away with screwing people over your whole life, I don’t care who you are. What goes around comes around. That’s how it works. Sooner or later the universe will serve you the revenge that you deserve. –Jessica Brody
