moment on the cusp of ten years
ago, stopped his heart. “I’m working around the clock. I have some leads to
follow up on,” Brian forced himself to say.
“Well, you better follow up quickly
before this fuckup blows some more brains out,” the captain said as he stared
at the deceased Janice. “It’s a shame, such a nice pussy wasted. I’m going to
leave you with this one, Boise. She’s mighty pretty…from the neck down.
I hope you’re not one of those people who fuck dead bodies. What’s that called?”
“Necrophilia, sir,” an examiner said.
“Yeah. Necrophilia. Hell, if I had one
too many, I’d just put a bag on her head and shake her real good. Ha! It’s past
my bedtime.”
Lt. Foster and Brian stood at attention
as they watched the captain stroll toward the door. The bulky patrolman removed
the tape as the captain and his entourage exited. Only two examiners remained,
which limited the life in the room.
“You heard him. You solve this one and
you’ll be promoted to my pay scale,” Lt. Foster said, breaking the silence.
Brian felt the knot tighten in his gut.
He looked at the corpse again as his focus transferred from his stomach to his
brain.
“Looks like close range again,” Brian observed.
“The two in the shoulder probably
injured her. We found a blood trail through the apartment,” the lieutenant
explained.
Brian looked down the hallway as squares
of yellow tape covered the floor and wall.
“The suspect got her with the last shot
right here… Oh, I got some news back from the lab regarding the strange smudge
of gray,” Lt. Foster added.
“And?”
“Dried shoe polish.”
“Hmm.”
“A real expensive brand. The interesting
thing is it’s a unique shade of charcoal gray only produced by certain European
tailors,” Lt. Foster explained.
Brian stopped and analyzed her lifeless
hands.
“Already checked. We didn’t find
anything on her or in the apartment,” Lt. Foster said. “Or at least my guys
didn’t.”
“I was researching the past murders and
found that both victims were prosecuting attorneys. I have a strong hunch she
was an attorney as well,” Brian explained.
Lt. Foster thumbed through his notepad.
“Miss Janice Davis, age twenty nine,
occupation…attorney. Hey, you’re fuckin’ right. We found copies of her paystubs
in the kitchen.”
“I’d like to do some analysis of the
area,” Brian said, as he knew his night would be long and his mind would be sore.
“Analyze all you want. You heard the captain.
This is your case. Don’t fuck it up and don’t fuck her,” Lt. Foster said with a
pound on Brian’s back. “I’ll let you do your thing.”
Brian didn’t respond.
The lieutenant walked a few steps
toward the exit, and then turned. “Hey, Boise. One question. What the fuck is
up with your father?”
Brian’s bodily functions halted. If time
had stopped, even just for a microsecond, Brian would have been considered
dead. But luckily for the detective, time was not dead. “I need to get started,
sir.”
“Come on, Boise. I hear all these
rumors. Set ’em straight,” Lt. Foster pressed.
“I don’t wanna fuckin’ talk about it!”
Brian yelled, transferring his deadness into rage.
“Whoa, don’t get your panties in a
bunch, Boise,” Lt. Foster said, as he witnessed a side to his subordinate that
he didn’t know existed.
Brian felt a group of brain neurons
trying to fire, trying to claw at his mind and to resurface memories buried
inside pits of fire. He focused on The Starry Night on the wall, the
swirls pacifying the evil. As Brian’s mind mollified, the lieutenant walked out
of the condo. Brian watched his immediate supervisor glide coolly, glide like a
man who just handed his problems to another. As Brian looked around and saw the
bloody mess, he realized the lieutenant, in fact, did just that.
The pale green abstract flowed over
Brian. It removed him from the morgue for only a moment—a moment that he
needed. The
ago, stopped his heart. “I’m working around the clock. I have some leads to
follow up on,” Brian forced himself to say.
“Well, you better follow up quickly
before this fuckup blows some more brains out,” the captain said as he stared
at the deceased Janice. “It’s a shame, such a nice pussy wasted. I’m going to
leave you with this one, Boise. She’s mighty pretty…from the neck down.
I hope you’re not one of those people who fuck dead bodies. What’s that called?”
“Necrophilia, sir,” an examiner said.
“Yeah. Necrophilia. Hell, if I had one
too many, I’d just put a bag on her head and shake her real good. Ha! It’s past
my bedtime.”
Lt. Foster and Brian stood at attention
as they watched the captain stroll toward the door. The bulky patrolman removed
the tape as the captain and his entourage exited. Only two examiners remained,
which limited the life in the room.
“You heard him. You solve this one and
you’ll be promoted to my pay scale,” Lt. Foster said, breaking the silence.
Brian felt the knot tighten in his gut.
He looked at the corpse again as his focus transferred from his stomach to his
brain.
“Looks like close range again,” Brian observed.
“The two in the shoulder probably
injured her. We found a blood trail through the apartment,” the lieutenant
explained.
Brian looked down the hallway as squares
of yellow tape covered the floor and wall.
“The suspect got her with the last shot
right here… Oh, I got some news back from the lab regarding the strange smudge
of gray,” Lt. Foster added.
“And?”
“Dried shoe polish.”
“Hmm.”
“A real expensive brand. The interesting
thing is it’s a unique shade of charcoal gray only produced by certain European
tailors,” Lt. Foster explained.
Brian stopped and analyzed her lifeless
hands.
“Already checked. We didn’t find
anything on her or in the apartment,” Lt. Foster said. “Or at least my guys
didn’t.”
“I was researching the past murders and
found that both victims were prosecuting attorneys. I have a strong hunch she
was an attorney as well,” Brian explained.
Lt. Foster thumbed through his notepad.
“Miss Janice Davis, age twenty nine,
occupation…attorney. Hey, you’re fuckin’ right. We found copies of her paystubs
in the kitchen.”
“I’d like to do some analysis of the
area,” Brian said, as he knew his night would be long and his mind would be sore.
“Analyze all you want. You heard the captain.
This is your case. Don’t fuck it up and don’t fuck her,” Lt. Foster said with a
pound on Brian’s back. “I’ll let you do your thing.”
Brian didn’t respond.
The lieutenant walked a few steps
toward the exit, and then turned. “Hey, Boise. One question. What the fuck is
up with your father?”
Brian’s bodily functions halted. If time
had stopped, even just for a microsecond, Brian would have been considered
dead. But luckily for the detective, time was not dead. “I need to get started,
sir.”
“Come on, Boise. I hear all these
rumors. Set ’em straight,” Lt. Foster pressed.
“I don’t wanna fuckin’ talk about it!”
Brian yelled, transferring his deadness into rage.
“Whoa, don’t get your panties in a
bunch, Boise,” Lt. Foster said, as he witnessed a side to his subordinate that
he didn’t know existed.
Brian felt a group of brain neurons
trying to fire, trying to claw at his mind and to resurface memories buried
inside pits of fire. He focused on The Starry Night on the wall, the
swirls pacifying the evil. As Brian’s mind mollified, the lieutenant walked out
of the condo. Brian watched his immediate supervisor glide coolly, glide like a
man who just handed his problems to another. As Brian looked around and saw the
bloody mess, he realized the lieutenant, in fact, did just that.
The pale green abstract flowed over
Brian. It removed him from the morgue for only a moment—a moment that he
needed. The
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