The Last Call
April 20, 2025
Rain lashed the windows of the small diner on the corner of Westfield and 7th. Neon signs flickered through the downpour, casting tired pink and blue glows across the puddle-streaked floor. Inside, the place smelled of burnt coffee and regret. It was 2:13 AM, and the only sound was the low hum of a broken jukebox and the steady tapping of Detective Lana Rhodes’ pen against her notepad.
Across the booth from her sat Marcus Dunn—grubby hoodie, hollow eyes, and a jittery leg that hadn’t stopped bouncing since she slid into the seat.
“You sure you’re ready to talk, Marcus?” she asked, voice calm but tight. “Because if you start lying again, I walk.”
Marcus rubbed his hands together. “I didn’t kill him. I swear. I was just the lookout. That’s all.”
Lana stared at him. “You told me last week you were just ‘in the wrong place.’ Now you’re a lookout? That’s a change.”
He avoided her eyes. “Things… changed. I remembered stuff.”
“Convenient.”
He sighed. “You want the truth or not?”
She leaned back and gestured with her pen. “Go on. Tell me a story.”
It started three nights ago at Rizzo’s Pawn, a dumpy little place that always looked closed even when it wasn’t. Marcus had been circling the place for weeks with a guy named Denny Pike—tall, mean, and too smooth for a guy with a record like a receipt roll. The plan was simple: wait until Rizzo left, break in, grab the safe, and disappear. Easy money.
But things never go as planned.
“Denny said the old man wouldn’t be there,” Marcus explained. “He swore Rizzo left by nine. Said he’d cased it a dozen times.”
Lana raised an eyebrow. “But he didn’t leave, did he?”
Marcus shook his head. “No. He was there. Lights were off, but he was inside. Maybe sleeping. I dunno. Denny didn’t care. Broke in anyway.”
She scribbled something. “You stayed outside.”
“Yeah. Supposed to whistle if anyone came. I saw the shadow before I heard the gun.”
That got her attention. “Gun?”
“Denny had one. Said it was just for show. But I heard the shot. One loud bang, then silence.”
Lana frowned. “So Rizzo’s dead.”
“Dead as disco.”
The rain hadn’t let up, and the window fogged with condensation. Lana wiped it with her sleeve and stared out into the night. “Why come forward now?”
Marcus hesitated. “Because I saw something after. Something I wasn’t supposed to see.”
She tilted her head. “Go on.”
“I took off, right? Ran down Baker Street, tried to disappear. But a block away, I saw Denny. He wasn’t running. He was talking to someone.”
“Who?”
Marcus looked around like the ketchup bottle might be wired. Then he leaned in.
“Detective Harlow.”
Lana’s pen stopped.
“You’re telling me my partner was meeting with Denny Pike?”
“I’m telling you I saw them shake hands. And Denny gave him something. Envelope or a package. I don’t know what it was.”
Lana’s mind spun. Harlow had been acting strange lately—missing briefings, shutting her out. But this?
“You better be sure, Marcus. That’s a serious accusation.”
“I’m sure. I’ve seen Harlow around before. He and Denny go way back, yeah?”
“High school. Same football team.”
Marcus snorted. “Figures.”
Back at the precinct, Lana poured over reports, timestamps, surveillance logs. Nothing outright suspicious. Harlow was good. Too good. But if Marcus was right, she had to act before he got wind of her digging.
She needed proof. And for that, she needed Denny.
According to street whispers, Denny had a new hideout—a rundown motel off the highway called The Blue Lantern. She didn’t wait for backup.
Room 9 smelled like mold and desperation. She found Denny shirtless, counting bills on a stained mattress. A Glock sat on the nightstand.
“Don’t,” she warned, stepping into the room with her badge out and her hand hovering over her holster.
Denny froze. “Detective Rhodes. You’re early.”
“You talk to Harlow lately?”
He smirked. “You asking as a cop or a jealous partner?”
She didn’t flinch. “Where’s the envelope?”
He laughed, a dry, rusty sound. “Oh, that. Let’s just say Harlow and I have an arrangement. Always have.”
“You killed Rizzo.”
“He pulled a bat. I pulled the trigger. Simple.”
“And Harlow helped you cover it up?”
“Not cover. Manage. You think cops don’t get tired of chasing scum with no payday?”
“You’re disgusting,” she said.
“And you’re naive.”
Lana didn’t arrest Denny that night. Not yet. She needed leverage—something to tie Harlow directly to the crime. So she played it smart. Slipped out and called Marcus.
“You were right,” she said.
“Told you.”
“I need you to do one more thing.”
The setup was risky, but Marcus played his part. A text to Denny, telling him the cops were onto Harlow. That they had a tape. That he’d sell it to make it all go away.
Three hours later, at a warehouse by the river, Denny showed up. So did Harlow.
Lana recorded the whole thing from the catwalk above—Denny handing over a flash drive, Harlow handing over cash.
“Just like old times,” Denny said.
“You better pray there’s no backup of that tape,” Harlow muttered.
“There’s not. Scout’s honor.”
That was enough.
By sunrise, Harlow was in cuffs. The look in his eyes wasn’t anger. It was betrayal.
“You really didn’t know me at all, did you?” he asked as they walked him to the car.
Lana said nothing. The truth was, she hadn’t.
Back at the diner, the rain had stopped. Marcus nursed a cold coffee, eyes flicking to the door every few seconds.
“You think they’ll come after me?” he asked.
“They might.”
“You gonna protect me?”
Lana shrugged. “You helped take down a dirty cop and a killer. That’s worth something.”
“To you maybe.”
She slid a small envelope across the table. “That’s from Rizzo’s sister. Said you should have it.”
He opened it. Inside: a photo of Rizzo and a twenty-dollar bill.
“Why this?”
“She said it was the last sale he made. A pawn ticket for a guitar. Rizzo gave the kid a deal. Said everyone deserves a break once in a while.”
Marcus swallowed. “Guess he wasn’t all bad.”
“Guess not.”
She stood to leave, coat slung over her shoulder.
“Detective?” he asked.
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
Lana nodded once. “Don’t make me regret it.”
And with that, she disappeared into the soft morning light, leaving behind the diner, the case, and one man’s shot at redemption.