Chapter 1:
Murder on 32nd Street (pt. 1)
The sight was grim. It was roughly six am, and I had no idea what to expect. When I arrived at the scene of the homicide there was nothing left to identify except the sight of freshly murdered bodies lying on the ground as I approached. I'm not the type of person who can stand being around carnage and death. That's why I stay clear of the morgue. But this was different, this was business. The air was filled with an aroma so nauseating not even a rat on a wet day should give it a second thought. I thought I'd seen it all before but once I set my eyes upon the grave, gut wrenching sight, I started to have doubts.
The flashing red and blue lights barely helped illuminate the area. I bent under the yellow caution tape to reach my colleagues on the other side. Photographers and other crime scene personal occupied the yard, and some walked into the house ahead of me. I met my partner, who was pre-occupied with Medical Advisers, in the middle of the lawn. Roy Weltch and I had known each other since my first days as an investigator, about fifteen years ago. A little snotty, and full-time dick, Roy and I never saw eye to eye. He was an overweight chain smoker with a mop of greasy black hair who always had something to say. Most of the time I chose to ignore his smart ass remarks. In times like these, I couldn't afford to.
"Another day on the job, huh Roy?" I asked with genuine unease. Roy stopped writing in his pocket sized notepad for a second to look at me. I saw the disgust in his eyes as he tried to stare away from the scene. He knew as well as I that this wasn't something you could easily turn away from. This was a man who for as long as I've known him wasn't terrified by anything. When I saw his face, I saw the same pain that was coursing through my body. It was a mixture of hurt and rage, and I knew that even for a dick who never took any shit, he was still human.
"I don't even know how to start going through any of this shit, Cole" he began, ineffectively covering up all traces of the pain that was trying to escape him. He motioned with his hand to the scene behind him. "But it's clear someone had some fun."
The Medical Examiners stood by my side as I looked around the scene. "That's not the word I'd use. What happened?"
"We got a call a couple hours ago about a homicide on 32nd Street. Some guy went for a jog and saw a van leave here. Being a citizen with commonsense he phoned it in. He gave a statement shortly after we arrived. Since he didn't have anything further to add we let him go."
"I want his number so I can contact him personally. I have a few additional questions I'd like to ask him."
"By all means."
"Any survivors?" I feared his response, but I asked anyway.
"Just one. God only knows how she managed to survive."
Anyone who lived through something like this definitely had a story to tell. "I'd like to speak with her as well." My statement was a little more forced than I anticipated but I didn't correct myself.
"We already have. She didn't have too much to say. She's pretty shaken up."
Roy stopped briefly and motioned for me to examine a victim that lay next to me. Four more were scattered throughout the yard, all in body bags. One of the Medical Examiners spoke up.
"We haven't identified the body but we found the cause of death to be quite clear."
"May I have a look?" I asked, already in the process of applying a thin layer of latex gloves to keep my prints off the body.
He nodded and I knelt beside the body, put on protective latex gloves, and unzipped the body bag. Gently, I grazed my hands over the victim's pale, defecated skin, and noted every detail. There was a laceration on his neck, one so perfectly carved with precision and accuracy even a skilled surgeon would appreciate. His neck was swollen and it appeared something large was lodged in his throat. Several, small, and sparce knife wounds covered his chest. The victim must have been struggling when the killer did this. A knife to the throat was what stopped him. All of the blood had dried yet it was just moist enough to stain my latex gloves. As I moved lower toward the legs, I noticed a more distinctive marking. It was something I've never come across before. A reddish stain moistened the victim's groin region. I slid my hand over the area and firmly grasped the center. Then I unzipped the jeans and pulled its rough fabric down the legs. The stain was wider and its color darker. I pealed the boy's boxers away from his skin, the sound like biting into a juicy stake. My throat hardened. The man's genitalia had been severed. As I forced myself from the bloody ground, I knew my pants had become stained but I didn't even care. I'm surprised I didn't vomit.
Roy's voice was rough. "Yup, there's nothing left to prove this one a man. All the victims were male, except the survivor. And they're all the same."
"What could this mean?"
"I don't know," Roy began sarcastically. "This guy's a pervert?" I knew it was a valid attempt at a joke but I didn't laugh.
"How many others are there?" I asked the Medical Examiner.
"Four."
My stomach dropped and a shiver went through my back. "Has a time of death been established?"
"About three hours ago."
"Have the victims been identified?"
"No. We should know more later. As far as leads, there are no distinguishable prints. All of the victim's teeth seem untouched though, so forensics can get a dental record and find out who the victim is."
Roy jumped in. "The killer is smart, that is clear. In all my experiences I've never seen anything as questioning as this. No prints, no mistakes. This guy didn't leave so much as a piss stain to analyze. Whoever he is, he's experienced and must have planned ahead. A random killer would have been sloppy. This guy isn't. He's clean.
"I'd like to speak with the survivor" I said to Roy.
"Damn Cole, you've been gone so long I forgot how persistent you are. Sure, if you can get her to talk. She's hardly said one fucking word since we've been here." Reaching into the pocket of his trench coat, he pulled out a package of cigarettes. He began feeling around the insides of his pockets, like he was searching for something else. "Damn. You got a light?"
"Yeah, sure." I reached into my right pants pocket and handed it to him.
"Thanks." He took a big puff of his cigarette, and the smoke that arose from that dreadful death stick filled the air that I needed to breathe. I turned my head slightly to the side, so I wouldn't be forced to breathe in the toxic fumes that came from his immoral addiction.
I quit smoking a few years ago. My doctor told me I didn't, I'd have a stroke before I'm 45 and there was a chance it would've been fatal. I decided I love my life more than I love smoking so I gave it up. To this day, I still have a lighter in my pocket. It was the only part of the habit I couldn't break.
"You wanna smoke? You looked stressed." A sharp observation coming from a man who never gave a rat's ass how I felt a day in his life.
"You know I don't smoke that shit."
"That's right, you drink till your guts fall out" Roy bastardly remarked as he took other dig on his cigarette. I gave him a cold look. "I'm just sayin', I'd do the same if my wife left me too."
"Yeah, well, ya gotta cope somehow."
As he took another puff, I realized that we had agreed on something. The first time we had ever done such a thing in all the years I've known him. Maybe Roy wasn't such an ass after all?
"I'm gonna take a look around."
"Knock yourself out. Let me know if anything comes up."
I didn't respond, nor did I care to. I left his side and wandered over to the house at the far end of the yard and left Roy conversing with the Medical Examiners. It was the first time I had gotten a good view of the house. Yellow siding covered the exterior. It could have been a really light green, but it was so dark I couldn't really tell. The porch was made of a fine wood, freshly remodeled by the looks of it. Railings stood about three feet from the ground, a pasty white. The screen door was black and a little damaged, normal wear and tear, nothing out of the ordinary. All seemed fine.
