Love Drug

“Ladies, please come in.”

The two young officers entered the chief’s office and timidly found seats facing his large wooden desk. The chief, already comfortably seated in his large leather chair, began.

“Ladies, I want to congratulate you on your work yesterday morning regarding the mayor’s traffic stop. I see you two have put in years of highly meritorious service, and I think your early morning patrols may be a thing of the past.”

The two women yearned to exchange a glance, but each remained focused on the chief’s forceful brow. His skewed, straggly teeth showed years of smoking as he spoke. But in his words hung the future for the two officers.

“This thanks extends from me, and the mayor’s office and also personally from Mayor Gerry Mander himself.

“As of today, ladies, you are promoted to the Investigative Unit. Congratulations, Detectives.”

The two women finally broke from their formal stare and shared a smile.

“Now, head down to your sergeant for your new detail.”

*** *** ***

The morning’s daily briefing had already begun, when the two newest sleuths arrived. The seasoned detectives of the squad were already in attendance, each facing forward from the far side of long, wooden tables.

“Well, ladies. So good you could join us,” announced the sergeant from behind his podium at the front of the room. He then resumed summarizing assignments for the day. The ladies quietly took standing positions alone against the back wall.

“Mills, Dworkin, you both keep working the preacher case. See if you can get a confession.

“Durbin, Hatcherson, you guys chase down those dognappers. See what you can sniff out.

“Johnson boys, you two stake out the Texas Redmeat Grill. See what’s cookin’.

“And, Bennett, Barnett, you two clear up the confusion in the records department. I want a detailed report down to the letter.

“That’ll be all, folks. Now go get ‘em.”

As if programmed for the phrase, the group immediately sprang from their chairs and strode for the exits. In an instant, the room was empty but for the sergeant and his two newest investigators.

“Sarge, we are new to the team and looking forward to our first assignments. Do you have anything for us today?” Cat queried, as she took an inviting step in the sergeant’s direction.

Without a moment’s thought, he responded gruffly, “The petty crime rate among the females has spiked up recently. Why don’t you look into that?” His crotchety demeanor was curt such that no further conversation was necessary.

Beatrix gleamed at this assignment, as off-handed as it was, while Cat bristled at its cavalier thoughtlessness. Nonetheless, they were off into their first foray as detectives.

*** *** ***

“Detective Beatrix Shine,” Bee recounted her new title with a deep-rooted satisfaction, as the two walked down the precinct hallway.

In an arrogant modesty, Cat dismissed the comment.

“Come on,” Bee pried. “Crack a smile, Detective Cat Mouser.”

After another moment for dismissive tension, Bee continued. “Of course, I can’t wait to tell the kids. They won’t care about mom’s promotion. My daughter’s still all upset right now.”

Despite Cat’s outright lack of interest, Beatrix continued. “She went to the club when she knew the actor Will Smith was going to be there. She was so hoping to interview him for one of her articles. Well, she missed him by just a few minutes. So she wound up interviewing Andy Dick instead. She was really upset.”

“Will Smith? Andy Dick?” Cat echoed with an exaggerated impatience.

“You know, Cat. Sometimes I think you are more difficult than my kids.”

“Ah, another Cat fight, I see,” a male voice jumped in from behind.

“Bennett. Actually you are just the person we need to speak to,” Cat said, welcoming the intrusion.

“Uh oh,” he jokingly replied.

“On the recent crime wave, what’s the word?” Cat queried.

“Sure. There’s some new drug on the streets, apparently popular with middle-aged women. Very recent, and very different. Like a time-release upper. Our chem guys are stumped. They said the active component was tempered somehow by chemical cross-linking. Vulcanized oxycodone or something.” His voice trailed off into a shrug.

“Where’s it coming from?” Cat pressed.

“Yeah, I wish I knew. Some flaky informant was saying the Fabric Plus store is where they make the stuff. I told him he had his doilies on backwards, but he stuck to the story. So someone might check it out some day.”

*** *** ***

The women stepped from their unmarked car outside of the Fabric Plus. There they saw a deliveryman hauling a load from his truck to the unopened loading dock bay. The boxes of celery sticks, Goldfish snacks and sparkling cider bounced and rattled on his trolley cart.

The two approached quickly, flanking the man and enclosing him against the long side of his cart. Before he knew it, he was pressed by the pair in a confrontational blockade.

“Where’s a cop when you need one?” the man muttered to himself.

“What’s that??” Cat demanded.

“Hey, I don’t want any trouble,” he replied.

“Who said anything about trouble? We just have a couple of questions.”

“Alright, what?” the man cautiously acknowledged.

“Who are these delivers for?”

“Fabric Plus.”

“Let’s try again. Now, who are these deliveries for?” While asking this, the women advanced, pinning the man tighter against his merchandise.

“Who are you?” the man blared.

“Just answer the question.”

“It’s for the Moms,” he admitted.

“Keep going.”

“Look, this is where the Moms hang out.”

With stares alone, the women prodded him on. He raised his arms more in defense than in body language, as he continued, “You’ve heard of the Moms, right? I don’t want any trouble. The Moms’ hangout is in the back here.”

The women advanced further, physically sandwiching the man against his boxes of peanut butter and jelly.

“Look. That’s enough. If the moms find out I’m talking, I might get grounded.” With a spreading gesture, the man swung his arms and drove the women back, allowing him to escape his pinned position. “Go in there and talk to the Mother Hen, if you want to. Now, I have to go.”

Without retrieving his delivery, the man darted back into his truck and sped away in a plume of diesel fumes. The women looked at each other before turning back to watch the truck’s speedy retreat, with its open roll-up door shuttering with each bump in the alley pavement.

*** *** ***

The women entered the Fabric Plus, neither with a gun drawn but each anxiously poised to retrieve it. Their silent ingress was spoiled only by the synthetic clamor of the electronic door chime. But that was a sound for no one else to hear. The store was empty. So the ladies set about to survey the scene.

The well-lit aisles proudly showed their wares. Spools of brightly colored fabric, lively yarn and a variety of crafty supplies stuffed the shelves and displays. Soft music, the best of calming saxophone jazz, played in the background. And strangely, a subtle scent of sulfur hung ominously in the air.

The store at first glance was not particularly notable. But on closer inspection, an air of artificially became clear. Every surface was covered in a pristine layer of dust. Nowhere were there price tags or the other trappings of trade to be found. And, as Bee saw instinctively, the styles of the articles for sale were all well out of date.

The women walked toward the back of the store. Wafts of cold air blew from the air conditioner, complementing the nervous atmosphere. The eerie silence, basked in the brilliance of fluorescent lights, burned into their sharpened senses. Together they approached a large double door along the back wall that lead to the stock room.

Pushing open one of the double doors and stealthily making their way through, the ladies moved into a short, dimly lit hall. It turned sharply to the left into the open air of what would be the store’s warehouse. Migrating along the wall for cover, the women peeked around the edge to see what lay beyond. The sounds of a large gathering permeated the room, reflecting from all directions off of the corrugated metal ceilings. Inside, flimsy tables were set up to host games of Bridge and Canasta, or to present homemade jewelry and superfluous household goods. The party was tame, but so were its patrons. Without exception, the participants were middle-aged women, each modestly dressed and well kempt. Short sleeves and tall jeans were the unspoken uniform of the event.

After exchanging a quick gander between them, the detectives made their move. Masking their official purpose, they straightened their spines in confidence and walked out from their cover to mingle. The pair made a beeline to the nearest table, which displayed a choice selection of kitchen cutlery and other cooking paraphernalia. The table was swarmed by browsers, but the two newcomers immediately drew full attention.

“New to the party?” interrogated a nearby woman, as she looked the pair up and down.

“What do you have here?” Cat deflected, as her consciously eyes pursued the knives and other sharp implements on display.

“No, the question is what do we have here,” another voice forcefully prodded.

Beatrix took a turn with the question. “We just needed to get out of the house for a while.”

“And why was that?”

From Beatrix, it flowed naturally, “Well, my daughter is driving me crazy. She’s not talking to her BFF again. She told her about the latest crush and somehow the word got out. So they won’t be talking for a while. And in the meantime, I get to hear all about it. But, hey, that’s the only way she ever talks to me anymore.”

The crowd remained in silent judgment before Bee continued.

“Well, also there was the dress thing. She’s upset because she also told the same friend about a dress she was going to wear. Then on Friday night, the friend wore the same colors. It was a navy with orange accents. Really stood out, so now my baby can’t wear her new dress for a while.”

“My daughter has the same dress,” contributed a voice in the crowd. “We spent ninty bucks on that at Roxie’s only to see it advertised at the Thread Shed for 25% off.”

But before the conversation could break, a familiar accusatory voice demanded a vetting of Cat. “What about you, sister?”

“Oh, well, my daughter... She has a new boyfriend.”

“Yeah, and what’s his story?”

“Oh, all he wants is sex.”

The air stood quiet for only a moment before an acknowledging murmur shot across the group.

“Too bad we don’t have love for them.” The anonymous joke drew a passing laugh.

Beatrix jumped at the opening to chime in, “Love? We aren’t in high school anymore. What exactly do you mean?”

The murmur stopped at that instant, and some on the fringes of the group quickly began to break away. It was then that a particular character emerged. She approached the two and signaled for them to take a walk together with her.

In an unassuming voice, touched by Minnesotan accent, this woman began. “What brings you here?”

“We heard about this place and wanted to check it out,” Cat said, taking the lead.

“What did you hear?”

“We heard that maybe it was time for us to look at getting some love.”

“That’s a big step.”

“It’s about time for a change,” Beatrix joined in.

“We’d love to hear more,” Cat hinted.

“What’s love got to do with it?” the woman followed cryptically.

“The love drug. Yeah, I’ve heard of it,” Bee answered directly, while Cat nodded her head in agreement.

“I know I could use some love.” Cat then added with a sneer.

“We have a lot of love here,” the Minnesotan continued. “But love is not something we share. It is all or nothing with love. Love is something we take very seriously.”

“We are not here because we are joking around” was Cat’s quick response.

“Alright, but we love like family. Once you’re in, you’re in. There is nothing else but our love,” the matriarch continued.

“I can see that. That’s why I am here,” Cat maintained the dialogue.

“And what about your daughter?” asked the Minnesotan, now squarely targeting Bee.

“She’s old enough that she needs to make her own way. After all, how long can she live with Mom?”

“Alright.”

“So you’re the Mother Hen,” Cat probed.

“There’s someone I need you to meet,” she simply replied. “You need to come back on family night. Be here Friday night at 7:30.”

“7:30, then. And home in time for bed,” Cat smiled.

*** *** ***

Circling the building after their back room encounter, the detectives had no doubt that a little snooping would pay off. And it did. A stack of oil drums offered a convenient, if not rickety, vantage point. The ladies awkwardly climbed the putrid barrels, many ripe with the choking stench of ammonia or sulfur. But at the apex, the ladies were rewarded as they peered down through an open window. Inside, they witnessed the inner sanctum below. At its center, a very scrawny young man sat authoritatively in a large chair. He was positioned within reach of two computers and within view of a large television. These devices fully occupied his attention. And around him was a doting entourage of nurturing ladies, each anticipating and attending to his every need. Next to him, a cup of chicken noodle soup steamed. Next to that, a tall glass of apple juice was freshly topped off. And one of his motherly caregivers sat crouched at his feet, tenderly trimming his toenails with long-lasting, individual care.

The grotesque sight was mesmerizing for its outlandishness, and the detectives were left staring in awestruck disbelief. Another mother approached the spindly boy and, after a quick encounter, kissed him on the cheek and ruffled his unkempt hair. She followed that with a second look, licking a finger to clean his brow. To this pampering, he responded by swatting her away.

“What is this?” Cat gasped. Any professional objectivity had evaporated into dumbfounded astonishment.

Bee remained frozen, at a loss for words. But her foot inched backward slightly, tipping an open barrel from its precarious balance at the peak of the pile. In a thunderous ruckus, the tumbling drum resounded its way down the pyramid, leaving a dusty trail of yellow, powder bursting from each impact.

Cat’s mesmerized glaze broke, as both women winced from window frame.

“What was that?” Cat hissed with accusatory venom.

“So one fell. It probably happens all the time.”

In the comfort of that rationalization, the two rose up and peaked again through the window. With the avalanche having come to rest, they now listened to the response from within.

“Wingmoms, Code Red, Code Red,” the youngster shouted. He stood erect in front of his seat, as his panicked motions signaled his agitation. “Wingmoms, check the back alley. It’s Code Red.”

Inside, the women of the hive bustled in an uncoordinated unison. An army of cardigans amassed, bearing a dizzying assortment of on-hand weapons. Some stood with assault rifles and others with broomsticks.

“Go!” the whimpering commander squealed. His angst had driven him onto his pedicured toes, as his fingers curled in distress under his chin. “Go check it!!!”

Breaking from their second round of astonishment, the detectives traded a look of shocked confusion.

Bee finally spoke, “What are we going to do? Shoot them??”

Cat registered defeat in her face, as she acquiesced, and the pair rushed down the pile and into obscurity.

*** *** ***

It was 7:34 Friday evening at Fabric Plus. The double door opened, flooding the darkness of the back stock room with fleeting streams of brilliant light. Against that backdrop, Beatrix entered. Straining her courage, she marched through the door alone. In the darkened room, her only companions were the stacked rows of chemical drums surrounding her on all sides. She knew the door would soon slam shut behind her. And no sooner had that thought passed than the area was extinguished of light. Her eyes quickly adjusted, revealing a cavernous space filled with palettes of drums stacked upon more palettes of more drums. She made her way forward, following a vague path in the stacks, when suddenly a blinding light ignited ahead of her.

“Hello, officer,” a voice sniveled. Basking in the spotlight was the scrawny young man, sitting comfortably in yet another lavish chair.

Beatrix’s muscles involuntarily tensed, with her persona of bravery straining. But she maintained her calm and composure.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” he continued, beaming with pride. “You thought you could get the jump on me? But my Wingmoms totally warned me about you.”

“Wingmoms?” Bee repeated in a mockingly provocative tone.

“You don’t get it, do you? Not at all,” the young man scoffed. “You don’t even understand what I have done.”

“Yes. And what have you done?” she derided.

“Right. Let me lay it all out for you. How simple that would be!” he returned in kind.

“Oh, yeah! Well, what have you done that is so impressive?? Because I sure don’t see it.”

“I don’t care what you think. You’re just stupid,” the youngster snapped, with his villainous stature waning into a childish combativeness.

“Right. I just wouldn’t be able to get it anyway,” Bee jeered, now with hints of genuine satisfaction. “It’s far too brilliant for me to comprehend.”

“You couldn’t even get it. I made an army. I made an army of moms.”

After a slight pause to gather her bearing, Bee stoked on. “An army of moms! How cute!”

“You don’t get it. I created it all. And I command my mom army to do whatever I want.”

Seeing the time was ripe for the good cop role, Bee switched her temperament and feigned an empathic interest. “Wait. What did you do?”

“See. I invented the love drug. Vulcanized oxytocin.” The youngster took a moment to gloat. “See?? Oxytocin is the hormone responsible for feelings of love. Love is one of the most power emotions of all. It’s the chemical that every mother feels. And with my drug, I control it. I control love. I dole it out to these moms. To them, I am their eternal first born. They do whatever I want just to please me, always... for love.”

“What??” Bee continued, with a growing sincerity.

“I give these moms love. My vulcanized drug metabolizes very slow and steady. So I can program them to feel love just when I want them to. Then when they need more, they must come back to me. And through it all, I am their dearest baby. They would do anything for me. Do you now see the army I have?”

Bee’s interest turned to revulsion. But she kept to her dialogue. “You know, we’ve done our homework too. Nice to meet you in person, Snider.”

“Oh, so you looked me up in the phone book?” he shot back with derision.

“Yearbook, too, kiddo. Glad to see you finally have some ladies in your life.”

Enraged, the scrawny Snider stood abruptly from his chair. In exchange, Beatrix drew her gun and instantly aimed it at her newly exposed target.

“Hands up, Snider. Right where I can see ‘em.”

Feeling himself loosing his footing in the situation, Snider quickly sat back down into the cushions of his chair. He forced a sweet repose, as a relaxed expression now clad his face.

“Hands where I can see ‘em,” she repeated firmly, continuing to train her gun on him.

“Actually I’ve been looking forward to this encounter of ours,” Snider began. “Now you will see…” and at that his speech was suddenly interrupted. He whipped around sharply as Cat popped into view immediately beside him. Her gun and her badge glimmered from the shadows, as did her grin.

“She said, hands up!” Cat barked.

“Wait! Wait! Where did you come from?” he gasped.

“Hands up!” Cat shouted again, with a prompting upward motion of her drawn gun.

“But I wasn’t ready. You can’t do that!” he sniveled.

Cat approached, now fetching shining metal handcuffs from the belt on her side.

“No! That’s not fair! I didn’t know you were there,” Snider cried.

Bee resumed her mocking tone, “What?? You wanted us to warn you?? Olly Olly Oxen Free!!!”

“Wait. I call a redo. Just go and come back in 10 minutes. Or five. Just give me five.”

As Snider pleaded his case, Beatrix had closed in on the action. Cat, meanwhile, had holstered her weapon and focused on the cuffs. Grabbing each scrawny wrist in succession, she muscled the boy’s struggling arms behind his feeble frame.

“You can’t do this,” Snider huffed aloud. “It’s not fair.”

With the suspect now cuffed and secure, Cat finally craned her neck to Snider, pressing her lips to his ear. She breathed softly before whispering, “We cheated.”

*** *** ***

“Ladies, please come in.”

The two young detectives strode into the chief’s office and confidently took seats in the chairs facing him.

Soon after, the two detectives received public commendation during the Annual Policeman’s Appreciation Ball. The award recognized them for their highly meritorious service. Each was congratulated for principal roles in the love case. All ate well that night with pies baked by appreciative mothers of the area. And years later, even Snider expressed his gratitude by naming the company he co-founded in honor of the events – Oxen Free pharmaceutical.

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