I hate this job; its does not recognise my privacy and encroached on my personal time. I am living my job 7x24 through the weeks.The beeper goes off and I am out into my car. Once she broke down on the road; crying out her tears from the radiator and spewing the dark smoke from her exhaust so I soothe her down with a three days stay at Mike's. The moment he tighten the screws, she on the road with me. This pre-dawn was one of those moments when sensible people wake up to a jog or even for a morning sojourn of quick moments but not me. I left my love holding the pillow while I am caressing the steering wheel and speeding down the road with the siren blaring. My neighbor used to complained to the Station but once he found out I am the police officer on duty there, he decided to shut up.
So I am the fragging police officer; one that holds a badge, a gun and the authority to release it on anyone I deemed threatening or been a public nuisance. I done a few of that and they are laying up in some place they named Boot Hill. Maybe not all, as I am not sure if they ever get buried at all. Maybe they end up on some University Research Facility for dissection studies.
I couldn't care less; I seen enough of it in my days and nights.
"Frank, what have we got this time?" I knew Frank the Duty Sargeant on this district for over ten years. Frank been desk bound for sometime but he felt more at home on the streets. When the call came, he was the second one to the crime scene next to the officer who reported in. Frank adjusted his waist belt where his service revolver hung holstered. Frank once told me he had never fired gun in public except in the firing range. We laughed as he was doing a good job on the Dillinger poster on the firing range; all shots in the chest and head but they don't take near retiree for SWAT now.
"Its the same signature." Frank reached for the takeaway coffee I taken for him."Its the serial killer again. Bloody number tallying up and we are still without a clue except a stack of files filled with centerfolds."
"Frank, you need a vacation. If those pictures in the files can get you to jacked off, then I think I may had lend to you some DVD."
"Jim, if I ever had to jack off to your DVD, that would be the day I am handcuffed to the bed posts, and be ridden on by Molly Nerd." Frank laughed out his infamous loud bellow that roared up the alley. Molly our tea lady with a girth that even a shotgun bullet at chose range would not go through.
I took the cue to walked into the alley to see my latest number in the files. Its like any alley; dark and wet with any discards that the society can't find a wastebin to leave it in. The alley measured twenty feet across and about two hundred feet in length with about five garbage bins lined in sporadic layout. The early morning pour of rain have given the place a more drab look but it also brought up the dank garbage smell.
I reached for my pack of smokes and notice its empty, but I was handed one by my assistant, Ruben Toole; my partner for over ten years now and he always carries a spare pack of smokes. I pocketed the pack without smoking it. Both of us walked to the group of officers standing over the dead victim.
"Jim, subject is a lady, Mary Hinge; eighteen years of age, about to start college, work part time two blocks from here. Her wounds are consistent with the others." Ruben picked off the notes from his pocket book. "Time of death was estimated to be at midnight to 0300hrs, just before the rain picked up."
I pushed the onlookers off my path which does nothing except make shadows over my crime scene. Once they see me coming in, they would dispersed off soon. They know my emotional levels when I don't get respected.
I stepped up to the dead victim and saw the Coroner was still there examining the body. He' ten years older than me and past retirement, but he wants to work to be away from his wife of twenty five years. He once told me, we used to fuck, but now we need to sue to fuck. She married him for money and he for her body. Dan Mathews' a short man with a pudgy looking face with a balding head, and body that matched the TV character 'Colombo' for sex appeal.
"Hello, Dan. What's your prognosis?"
Dan stood up and pulled off the gloves. His hand reached out and I took out the pack given by Ruben. Dan tore off the top strip and pulled out a stick. He light it with the lighter which I passed to him, and then took his first puff for the day.
"Dan, you better hold onto that. Don't puff it too deep or Bernice would give me a shelling soon. She would smell that smoke soon enough." I cautioned Dan as he was asked to quit smoking by his wife. She asked me to monitor him, but both of us without a puff was like an addict without a fix.
"Fucked her." Dan dropped the stick and snuffed it out. "The victim died of multiple stab wound, but the fatal wound was the one on the artery at the side of the neck. She died breathing in her own blood." Dan motioned to his two assistants to move the body back to the morgue. "Looks like the same MO as the others. Its the same killer."
"Thanks, Dan." But he was passed the distance of hearing me. I turned back to the crime scene and asked the officers to hand me all the evidence later. They know me well; I am their worse nightmare if they ignored my instruction. Once I threw a pot of plant off the upper level on the patrol car of the officer who forgot to submit me his evidence pack.
Once back at the Station, it was paper work and more calls to the relevant people. I left it to Ruben to handle the family while I take on the press. I called the 'Times' and 'Standard' editor with the abbreviated version.
"Jim, why can't I place that on the headline; Victim No.27. It sells papers." Paddy of the Times asked me over the line.
"Paddy, for the umpteenth times. You published what I tell you. Or you can get your own informer." I slammed the phone down.
"Hey Jim, there is no need to pull that on Paddy. He is trying to sell his paper." I looked over at Ruben. Ten fucking years he worked with me and he still holds the sympathy for the press editor. He ought be the next victim but the killer does not kill men. He only do women; one of his fascination is the womb. That's why they called it the Womb Killer. I ignore Ruben and walked to the Captain's office.
"Jim, did you released this to the press?" The Captain is holding up the press bulletin in his hand. Captain Reilly is a young officer 'up the ranks since Academy power grabber non-team player'. I hated him since the day he walked in as rookie detective. Eight years later and he outranks me while sitting his arse on the Captain chair. It does helped if your dad is a politician and your mum is the politician whore. Or the the whole frigging House whore.
"Jim, you know the rules. You okay with me then you released it." Captain Reilly raised his voice but I just walked in and took the bulletin off his hand. I nodded again and walked out.
"Fuck you, Jim. I would have your badge for it." I loved the way he threatens me. Its like when Jenny used to scream that she is coming but she never did. They are all fakers. Reilly can't touch me, as I have the most records of cases closed and I have the Commissioner for a supporter. The man at the top once said, 'if nor for Jim, we would all be walking with crutch sticks and M16 on the shoulder. He keeps the street clean that even Capone would asked his permission to step out'. We all laughed his joke when he pinned the Distinguished Medal on my chest, but I am not ready to retire just yet.
The rest of the day was the usual routine; we patrolled the streets and hauled up some informers for a released of our tension. The only thing we could not do was sodomize them but heck even if we did, no one would know the difference.
By noon, Ruben and myself are at our usual stop point; a sleazy joint run by an ex-officer who was sleazier in his days. But he served some good food and its one place you can eat safe with twenty other police officers who comes there at every hour. Di Angelo does not need customers when he has the whole force eating there; and for once, we all pay our tabs.
"Jim, I heard on the news." Di Angelo is a fat man; who wouldn't be when consuming dozens of hamburgers, sandwiches, donuts and bad coffee daily. Di Angelo walks with a limp courtesy of a misplaced shot by a punk whom he laid down with a dozen well placed shots in return. That limp gave him pension and took him off the Force to open this place; FORCE FOOD.
"Number 27? You are sure you got it right. I heard on the streets it was number 37, or more." Di Angelo speaks his own joke and laughs it himself. " But do you have to released all the details of the wounds and that mug shot. It was enough to keep everyone off the hamburger for a month."
"Jim here thinks the public ought to know the details so they would be scared and be more careful." Ruben cut it in for me. He knows me well; I am fed up of picking dead bodies on the street. Heck, my sex life would not had been spent in the rest rooms if I did not have been pulled away more times during sex. There are some days, I may even walked to a crime scene with a hard on as the last fuck was left unsatiated. Dan used to tell me that if I don't released the contents from my balls, it would seeped into my brain and made me do stupid things.
"Jim, I can agreed with you. The details sure scared off them folks from walking late at night. But heck this is the city and every one walking at every hour." Di Angelo laughed at his own lame joke. Then he sobered up and asked me a question.
"Jim, you think you can nabbed this bastard?" Di Angelo looked at me with a worried look. His daughter is doing night class and she walks alone back to home.
"We won't if you cooked your hamburgers too well. We would all be moving to the famous clown joint instead for bad burgers taste." My reply made Di Angelo laughed out loud. He always feel elated when someone said his burger is better. I am the clown in passing compliments; the only one not laughing at any jokes.
The afternoon routine goes by the same pace as the morning one; we haul some poor idiots off to some alleys and give him the 'Jim rubdown'. They normally comes out walking with their legs crooked or clutching the jeans to hold their innards in.
By coffee break time, we are back in the office for the wrap up of the reports or reading the complaints. Today we bagged in a fugitive hiding out at the city and send the person back to the Penitentiary. So it was a jubilant mood in the Station with the Captain taking off for an unexpected meeting outside. We had some donuts and bad coffee to celebrate. I turned down the offer of a trick in the cell with the whore we had in the cells. But soon it was over; the works and the pressure of nabbing criminals while the next shift takes over. We took to the showers and emerged as clean men.
I drove back to my apartment and grabbed a cold dinner. She left a note that she is licking up cocktail at the nightclubs, so I can eat my dinner in peace. For dinner, its the steak from Dinney's; I like them dark and cold meat raw with the juicy blood seeping out as I sliced it apart. I downed it with bottle of cheap wine and then sat down to catch the evening news. It was all there; the public outcry and the usual repertoire of the Police Captain promising to stop the killer. I shut off the set and slept on the couch.
It was near midnight when I got up and went to change my clothes. The next hour I was at Dan' porch knocking on his door. Dan opened it dressed in his night robe.
"So soon?" I stepped in ignoring the comment. I walked to the rear of the house where Bernice is sleeping in the oxygen tent. Bernice has been bed ridden for over five years now, and needed medication. Dan have been managing with it and that was one reason he never wanted to retire.
Later after having said my small words to Bernice; she never hear me anyway. I joined Dan in the living room. He offered me a drink.
"Bernice looks peaceful." I can see the scowled look on Dan. He offered me a seat on the unoccupied chair, and I slumped on it.
"Jim, the last one was fresh. We should go for those qualities, not the worn out bodies. Do you recall the one we did at 3rd Street? It was a night walker. I was worried we get infected with AIDS." Then he stopped and looked down to his glass of wine.
"Jim, I did not mean to bring up that topic." Dan knows I was infected by the illness in one of our earlier case. Since then, I had been cautious but the damage was done. It all started my craving to exact vengeance on those women who may had inflicted me. My professional ethics prevent me from killing any of them, until the day I found out on Dan.
Dan have been in the Coroner section for too long that he developed a knack for fresh morsels of the innards. He keeps them fresh the in the freezer section and takes them back to consume. He can tell by the taste now whether one was an addict or alcoholic. He introduced it to me one day when he offered me a meal with him. He did not tell me then as he knows I liked my steak fresh. When he did, I threw it all up but soon I developed a need for more of it. Soon I was hooked, and then we found the victims so inviting.
The Womb Killer actually was our predecessor as she; yes, it was a female who killed the first five victims. She would carefully removed the innards including the heart, liver and kidney plus all the other entrails. Even the anus was taken as she stored it for display. When Dan and myself caught up with her, we had her cornered in the isolated warehouse. It was a brief fight when I took her down with the gun. As she lie down there heaving in her breathing, both Dan and myself were looking at her.
"Jim, she is more than fresh. She's FRESH." That took our argument away as we dissected her body of her parts. She was victim No. 7 and we never stopped since then. That was five years ago but who's counting when we are having our meals.
I was shaken from my inner thoughts by Dan who asked me why am I doing here.
"Dan, I come to tell you that I am feeling weaker by the day. I checked it with the physician and he tells me I am also with cancer. I got about three months left." Dan looked to me with a glum look.
"Do you want to quit? I am still okay. I can get my supplies in the morgue." Dan sit back and smiled. "I could share some."
"No, I am here to introduce you my successor." I told Dan and he was surprised. I got up and walked to the door.
"Dan, its not like I am going to ditch you. But our namesake have it going well for us. Crime rate is down by a fair percentage, and ....we are getting our supplies." I held my hand at the door knob. "He can be trusted. He wants in for a long time, but I held him back."
Dan nodded and I turned the knob.
"Come in, Captain. Meet the Womb Killers Generation One." I can see Dan pouring another new glass for our next generation.
No comments:
Post a Comment