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🕑 Added 2025-03-28 07:54:44 +0000 UTCAnatomy of a Killer
Chapter 32 - Bowling Night
And here he was, at a gathering with the friends he had worked with over the past few weeks.
Larry looked around, seeing familiar yet distant faces. He wasn’t someone who sought out company, but after weeks of intense work, something inside him told him that maybe it was worth a try.
He poured himself a drink and took a seat in a corner, listening to the conversations around him without really participating. He wasn’t sure if he fit into this kind of environment, but for the first time in a long while, he didn’t mind trying.
“Holy hell, Masuka, what kind of horrible hat are you wearing?” Ángel looked at the fish-themed cap on Masuka’s head, asking in mild confusion.
“Community support. I bought it from an old man at the mall. You wouldn’t understand. Want a fish hat?”
“Not a chance in hell.”
Masuka said nothing, simply glanced at the others and greeted them before walking over to Larry and sitting beside him.
“Those guys should be here any minute.”
“Well, here we are.” Masuka looked toward the large room next door, his eyes scanning the women who caught his attention the most.
“What are you looking at?”
“I’m rating the best asses in the room. I always do.” Masuka responded naturally.
All members of the homicide department thought similarly; after all, sex was the best part of their day.
Working in this kind of department, it was common for some to have strange personalities, but among them, they understood each other perfectly.
“Hey, Larry, are you sure they’re coming?” Ángel, who had heard that Larry had invited a group of detectives to play bowling, was starting to think they might not show up.
Larry checked the time and said, “They should be punctual, I think.”
“Damn it, Mike, that son of a bitch drives like a maniac. The only reason I’m not kicking his ass is because we have that meeting with your psychopath friend.” Marcus, dressed in sportswear, spotted Larry’s group in the distance, his expression turning smug.
Larry approached them, followed closely by Masuka, Ángel, and Dexter. “I thought you weren’t coming.”
“Are you trying to say we’re scared?” Marcus asked, stepping up to Larry, who simply took a small step back.
“Marcus, calm down. We’re all friends here.” Mike held back a laugh and looked at Larry apologetically.
“Alright, get ready. We’ll be over there.” Masuka said as he walked away.
The atmosphere in the bowling alley was charged with competitiveness and, above all, testosterone. Neon lights lit up the lanes as ’80s rock played in the background.
Mike Lowrey and Marcus Burnett confidently walked to their area, accompanied by their captain, Conrad Howard, and two other detectives. A few meters away, at one of the reserved lanes, Larry, Dexter Morgan, Ángel Batista, and Vince Masuka were sharpening their strategies for the detective tournament that would put the homicide division’s reputation on the line.
Larry tried to tell them it was just a friendly game, but no one took it that way.
“Look at this, we can’t lose to a bunch of Miami cops who think they’re kings of the law.” Masuka said with a mocking grin.
“Of course we are!” Mike exclaimed with his signature arrogance. “We are the best police division Miami has ever seen. Period.”
Marcus rolled his eyes. “Mike, relax. This isn’t a raid, we’re here to bowl.”
Ángel crossed his arms. “I don’t see what the fuss is about. We also take down the most dangerous criminals. Well… some more than others.”
Captain Howard sighed and shook his head. “I just want this to stay civilized. Play, have fun, and don’t kill each other—leave that for the criminals.”
“Ha! Forget about that!” Marcus interrupted, grabbing a bowling ball. “There’s no fun without competition, Captain. We’re going to show them who’s boss.”
At that moment, Sergeant Doakes approached the group of detectives and forensic specialists, his gaze settling on the homicide division members. “Crush those sons of bitches.”
“That’s the spirit, Sergeant.”
…
The tournament began, and the tension rose with every throw.
Mike went first and scored a perfect strike. He raised his hands in the air and turned to the others. “That’s how it’s done. Take notes.”
Marcus missed his first throw, the ball rolling straight into the gutter. “Damn it! I knew this would happen.”
Ángel took his turn and managed a spare. “Not bad for my age.”
Dexter, with his usual neutral expression, threw the ball with precision, landing a strike. “The trick is calculating the exact angle and perfect speed.”
James Doakes crossed his arms. “Of course you’d have to analyze it like a damn psychopath, even for bowling.”
Masuka, with his unmistakable laugh, stepped up to throw. “Watch and learn, gentlemen.”
He picked up the ball, made an exaggerated spin, and launched it with style… straight into the gutter.
“Come on, man!” Marcus shouted between fits of laughter. “That was the legendary Masuka’s big shot?”
Masuka scoffed and turned away with his arms crossed. “It was just a strategy to throw you off. Now comes the real shot.”
But on his next attempt, the ball went straight into the gutter again.
Mike and James couldn’t hold back their laughter.
“Legendary, sure!” Marcus exclaimed.
Masuka frowned and muttered, “This loudmouth son of a bitch.”
“What did you just say about my mom? Damn bald guy, are you a monk or a forensic scientist?”
Larry, who was just about to take his turn, watched as Masuka suddenly got riled up and tried to fight Marcus.
Larry, a bit confused, reacted quickly and stopped Masuka.
Mike, on the other hand, did the same with Marcus.
“Jesus Christ, I was promised this would be a friendly competition. What the hell are you doing, Marcus?” Captain Conrad looked at Mike, expecting answers.
“This Asian guy insulted my mother, Captain. No Asian insults my mother.” Marcus growled as he was dragged toward the exit.
“Well, I’d say that was an interesting night.” Larry said, and after this disastrous gathering, he suggested they go grab a drink.
