This is my psychiatrist's couch. Take from it what you will.
But do leave a note.
I still am a late middle aged former government worker marking time until the cliff.
Short Fiction, Doggerel and Insensitive Opinion are spoken here.
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Thursday, September 4, 2014
Going to the Graves (Blogophilia 28.7)
Murray slouched to the black Crown Vic and got in. Let me
guess. It’s here in Norcross. He thought about going home and changing into
more professional clothes, but that would take too long. Baseball shirt
and shorts will have to do. Wincing as he slid on the hot vinyl, he dialed back
to headquarters to get the location.
“Gwinnet Homicide.Jackson.” Even after all these years that donkey voice still grated at
“Hey, Murray here.What’s up?”
“Sorry to bust up the ballgame Lieutenant, but we just got a
call out of the Graves. I knew you were in the neighborhood and I figured you
could field this.” Murray heard a suppressed bray from his partner.
“I love you, too, Jackson. But, the game is over. What do we
know about it so far?”
“Not much. Male. Latin. No age or I.D. yet, but pretty young.
Found by one of the residents at the bottom of the hill a little while ago.
Patrol apparently has the scene secure, so you should be ready to roll when you
get there. Crime Scene is also en route and may beat you there. I’m finishing
up a report, so I'll be down about 20 minutes.
“Take your time. I doubt you’ll miss much. See you there.”
As he clicked off, Little Wally came running up, curls
flowing in the breeze.
“You going to work, Grandpa?”
“Yeah. Somebody is hurt and needs my help.”
The little boy nodded and grinned, flinging his sticky arms
around his neck.
“I love you. Maybe you’ll get home in time to play some
“We’ll see, Superman.”, He patted him on the shoulder. “Now get on back to Mom. She’s waiting.”
As the little boy ran to his parents, Murray sighed. He wondered
if his deceased had left anyone behind. There probably was a Mama, possibly a
girl friend and kids. He probably lived a “Fuck the Future” life. A lot of
those young kids do, with no plans for the future past Friday. Then the future fucks themback and leaves their corpses
littering the landscape.
He cranked the car
and turned the air conditioning up to full.
Turning out on to Jimmy Carter, he frowned. While it was
only about three miles to that cesspit of sin, he had to travel the worst
designed road in the State of Georgia to get there.Sure enough, he went about five hundred yards
before he hit gridlock. Sweat poured down his face as he thought about what he
This was the third or fourth case this year out of the
Graves. He had worked a domestic and Jackson had drawn a bad drug deal. Both of
those closed pretty quickly. The perps involved were well known and there was
enough physical evidence not to need much testimony. Last he had heard, both were
negotiating plea deals. This was helpful since this was a neighborhood where
snitches were likely to get killed.
One case was still open.A young illegal girl was found naked in one of the dumpsters with her
throat slit. Two months later they didn’t have a good I.D, just her street
name: Bella Paloma. She was about 18,
very thin with coal black hair and sharp features. Murray had seen her once or
twice working at Jimmy Carter and Singleton, but never had any reason to talk
to her. The other hookers knew nothing about her, only that she had come from
El Salvador maybe a month or six weeks ago. Now she was just another piece of
Working that scene was tough. The girl had been killed
somewhere else, very little blood anywhere around. The dumpster itself was out
of the direct line of sight from the other buildings, so when the neighbors
claimed they didn’t see anything, they may have been right. But the detectives
didn’t even get that. Everybody claimed they were inside and that wasn’t their
business. They certainly didn’t want the attention of some pimp with Sureño Trece ties.
The only lead they had was a tire tread in the clay next to
the dumpster and a beige Toyota seen leaving about the time she was found. Of
course, no one had a description of the driver.
So, would this new body be connected to that one?Nah. Nobody promised me magic in this job.