WRITING BREAKING DAWN: Wolf & Shortie

Officers Jacob “Wolf” Wolfe and Alice “Shortie” Cullen of the Seattle PD arrived at the scene of the crime at approximately 8:25am. It was freezing in the squad car, as both of them preferred it, and the hot damp air in the mostly-abandoned parking lot made them both curse as they sucked in their breath upon exiting.
“Where the hell have you guys been?” chirped Seth Clearwater, the forensics expert on-scene, as he greeted them. The bottom edge of his blue coat was brown, stained with careless blood from countless other scenes just like this one.

“Fuck the fuck off,” Officer Cullen hissed, putting her sunglasses on. She made a furtive attempt at waving him away. “Get me a coffee, lab rat.”
“Easy,” Wolfe urged her. “Sorry Seth, she had a long night.”
“Prostitution bust on Mermaid?” Clearwater asked.
“The very one. And the bust was a bust, thanks to Alice here.” Officer Wolfe, who had been holding his sunglasses in hand and enduring the angry rays of the sun, waiting until the opportune moment, now placed the glasses upon his face so as to punctuate his play-on-words.
“So I heard,” Clearwater said.
“The fuck did I do?” Cullen said in an angry and confused voice, even though she knew exactly what she'd done.
“Officer Cullen entered a suspected brothel, undercover, pretending to be a Serbian immigrant seeking employment, at approximately 9:45pm,” Wolfe said in a bitter, brittle, official tone. “Upon being hired on sight as a prostitute, rather than signal the officers waiting outside she proceeded to remove her wire in the bathroom and accept payment for sexual intercourse, then proceeded to initiate oral sexual relations with a male client before her fellow officers got impatient and concerned and broke down the door without PC. No arrests made.”
“He was a congressman!” Cullen moaned, throwing her hands in the air. “I was going to blow the case wide open!”
“Right after you blew something else,” Wolfe cracked, removing his sunglasses, blowing on them, and then putting them back on.”
“Well, I set you up for that,” Cullen noted.
“You also set yourself up for another disciplinary hearing. How did you get out of the last one?” Wolfe asked, raising an eyebrow. “They should have your badge by now.”
“I got out of that one the same way I got into this one,” she deadpanned.
“Enough banter,” Clearwater said, gesturing at the building behind him. “We've got a dead stripper in here.”
“A dead stripper?” Wolfe asked in disbelief. “But we're Vice.”
“So if they're not still alive and sucking dick you're not interested?” Clearwater teased.
“Not as such, no,” Wolfe said.
“You don't recognize this place?” Cullen hit her partner gently across the chest, hand limp, arm bent at the elbow. She then pointed up, at the neon sign. “I went undercover here last spring.”
“Oh, I remember now,” Wolfe sighed. “As I recall you were too busy giving lap dances to get us anything worthwhile. The chief almost had our heads.”
“Luckily all I had to do was give him another kind of he--”
“Don't,” Wolfe stopped her.
Cullen made a “jerking off” hand gesture for some reason. Clearwater led them to the front door and opened it for them. Officers Cullen and Wolfe removed their sunglasses.
“Anyway, Detective Swan thought you might have something to contribute,” Clearwater continued.
“Detective Bella Swan?” Wolfe groaned. “Don't tell me I have to deal with that cunt today.”
“Which cunt?” came a voice as they turned the corner. Det. Bella Swan was sitting at the bar having a drink next to the dismembered nude body of a young blonde woman. “Are you referring to me or your partner?” She flashed Officer Cullen a wry grin, then bit her lip.
“Both of us,” Cullen smiled back.
“You two know each other?” Wolfe looked back and forth between the two women, stunned.
“We were partners coming up,” Cullen explained. “We bunked together in the academy, even.”
Det. Swan winked at her. “Cullen here is good police, and I always go to bat for her when she puts her dick in the wrong hole. You, on the other hand, Officer Wolfe,” she sneered. “You are here entirely because of your association with Officer Cullen. In my official, and for what it is worth, personal opinion, you are a waste of a badge and a gun and a cock and balls. And I would prefer you kept your fucking mouth shut as much as fucking possible during this fucking investigation.”
Officer Wolfe swallowed hard. Officer Cullen chuckled.
“Anyway,” Swan turned to the body with a flourish, spilling some of her drink. “The vic is a one Renesmee Jones of 26 Meridian St. 21 years old. You know her?”
Officer Cullen shook her head.
“Hold on a sec,” Wolfe interjected. “Ruh-nez-may?”
“Renesmee, yes.”
“Holy shit,” Wolfe said.
“It's almost like her parents knew what kind of job she'd have someday,” Cullen quipped.
“I think it's pretty,” Swan said in a gentle voice, picking up an ID off the table. “R-E-N-E-S-M-E-E.”
“This is why you and I could never be together,” Cullen said with a soft expression. “You're too tacky.”
“And you're too slutty.” Swan returned the almost loving look.
Clearwater and Wolfe looked at each other and shrugged.
“Time of death, Clearwater?” Det. Swan had her notebook out.
“Uh, 2:25am sir. I mean, ma'am.”
“You can call me sir if you like, too,” Swan said. “I prefer 'daddy,' though, truth be told.”
She and Officer Cullen shared a knowing laugh.
Clearwater and Wolfe looked at each other and shrugged.
“We know from the club owner that Renesmee here was having a disagreement with her boyfriend. Local tough by the name of Sam Uley.”
“Sam Uley? Never heard of him,” Wolfe said.
“C'mon Jake, Uley runs the drug game on the entire west side!” Cullen said, giving her partner a chastising glare. “The towers, the low-rises. His crew dropped twelve bodies so far this year. And now we're hearing his name at a fucking strip club on the other side of town. He's expanding.”
Wolfe stared at his partner in silent disbelief, as if to ask How?
“I keep my ear to the ground is all,” Cullen said, answering the unasked question.
“You're damn good police, Cullen.” Swan said. “And I wish we had more on this guy Uley, but we don't even have a picture. I have people on it though, don't worry.”
“So whaddaya need us for?” Cullen asked, settling in at a table.
“Strippers ain't talkin,” Swan said as she lit a cigar. “I figure if anybody has a personal relationship with every slut in a ten mile radius, it's you. I want you to knock on some doors.”
“Girls aren't gonna blab to no police about a murder,” Wolfe said dismissively, still standing with his arms crossed.
“Don't be so sure,” Cullen countered quietly. “They're afraid of retribution, sure. They scare easy, sure. But Renesemee here was one of their own. She must be new, but that doesn't matter much. They won't stand for this. They'll talk.”
“That's what I like to hear, Cullen,” Swan said as Clearwater began snapping photos of the body.
“Besides,” Cullen said, taking her sunglasses out of her pocket. “We're not going to strip them of their rights."