Facing Ghosts (Blogophilia 42.7)
“Damn. I need some coffee.”
The meeting had left his head spinning. Anal Artie had left no detail unturned;
kidnapping, rape, murder, even infanticide if a girl got pregnant. It was a
never ending tragedy. A loan shark for La
Paloma would front some money to a father, with the collateral being his
kids. When the loan got behind, the enforcers would then take the women, killing
the fathers and brothers who resisted. Police down there were completely owned by the
group, so it did no good to complain. It really was too much information to
digest all at once. El Potro and his
minions were quite evil.
The half empty pot smiled at him. Black slightly burnt
liquid poured into the empty Starbucks cup. The aroma slowly cleared his brain
and something very important came to his mind.
In all of the slides of desperation and depravity, there was
nothing that pointed to why there were four dead bodies. Murray pondered. If it
had been a theft, one or more of the victims would have had their hands damaged
or cut off. Faces would have been disfigured if they had snitched. There was not of the usual signs of gang
trouble.
The tip lines and informants were crickets so far on rivals.And the little bit on information gotten from the girls he talked to didn’t
indicate any problems with his victims. He took a slow sip of the coffee and
thought.
Was someone suspected of snitching? Yes, that was
always a possibility, even with the no damage. And if one was suspected, anyone
attached to the Snitch would also go. What they didn’t know yet is if the four
victims knew each other. Given they were all from the same village, it was
likely they were related somehow.
It could also be a matter of disrespect, something said
taken the wrong way, with disastrous consequences.
According to Artie and the Gang Unit in Cobb, there had been
no interviews with any of the victims. Rights were always
invoked and everybody bonded out. There
was an ICE detain on the girl in Cobb, but a lawyer made bond happen and she was
in the wind until her body was found.
Slumping into his chair, he turned on his computer and
groaned. Some bozo had changed his screen saver to a simulation of a zoopraxiscope.
The naked man’s flickering jumping jacks was NOT his cup of tea. If someone
else wanted to look at that, they were more than welcome to do so. And anyway,
it was a violation of department policy. Quickly turning it off, he went into
the department database, but not before he heard Jackson’s braying voice.
“HA! Knew you liked yours kinky.”
“Oh, shut up.” he said not bothering to turn around. “I’ll get somebody to get rid of that
later. Do we have the autopsy back?”
“Yep. It is pending
toxicology, but nothing expected. Señor Aguirre had a total of five defects in
the upper torso, three entries and two exits, and one entry behind the right
ear. M.E. is guessing, but it appears the headshot was post mortem.”
“Just to make sure?” Murray
turned around, looking intently at Jackson.
“Probably.” Flipping
a page, the Black man continued. “Fragments from two projectiles were
recovered, consistent with a medium caliber weapon, like a .380 or 9mm. Report
goes on to say the deceased had trauma around the face that occurred shortly
before death consistent with being hit with a blunt object.”
“Like the gun they shot him with?”
“That would be my guess.”
“Are there enough fragments to test if we were to recover a
gun?”
“Don’t know. Ballistics will tell us.”
“Something else to follow up. Anything else?”
“Not really.A couple of old fractures, one old gunshot scar
in the leg, another scar consistent with a knife wound, all more than a
year old.” Jackson set the report down. “Someone was pissed someone off.”
“Yeah.”
Tapping a few keys and brought up the victim’s record. Murray
spent a couple of minutes making notes of where the arrest were and whether he
had shown up for court. Two charges were
dismissed for lack of evidence or witnesses. No surprise. Nobody would consider
talking against this group. A third charge of pimping had been plead down to
loitering with intent, fine paid that day. Need to talk to vice about that one.
The case must have been stronger. Gomez did say he had a couple of arrests in
Dekalb and he would forward the results. He wasn’t hopeful they would help, but
it was information.
Clicking over a page, he then looked at Aguirre’s emergency
contacts. Maria Aguirre Torres, Sister, 4026 Pleasantdale, Doraville.Violent images of a vice raid gone wrong flashed
across his eyes. Must have been fifteen, twenty years ago, the tip had come by way of the clouds. Four kilos of coke and a couple of underage
girls, and then…gunfire. Like lightning
offshore, chaos and smoke were the primary memories. The very apartment the
raid happened. The C.I. tip said there would only be a dealer…maybe the
supplier…not half the fucking drug gang. The bodies lay all over the floor.
Four in total, with four wounded cops. It was like rubbing your eyes and suddenly
finding you are awake and not asleep, as you suspected you were.
Would it have not happened if he had reconnoitered the
place? Too late to ask those questions.
All he knew was he made it out uninjured. Artie Gomez had taken one to the arm,
but he wasn’t angry about it. All he cared about was there were two less
dealers on the street. No remorse on the girls, it was just collateral damage in the ongoing
battle against the evil.
The bitch on channel five, that Heather Hardon, tried to
make it a personal vendetta against him. She was at every court hearing and
hanging around internal affairs when it was all going down, putting out the
most slanted coverage she could, smugness in the blond face. Yeah. Don Henley described
her well. While Internal Affairs cleared everyone, Murray knew he
couldn’t stay on. He resigned and took a year off to rebuild. The nightmares
did slowly subside. Only once in a while
did they get triggered,like now.
As far as he knew, the sister hadn’t been contacted yet.
It was time to face the ghosts.
He locked his computer, grabbed his tablet and left the
office.
___________________________________________________________________
Topic-Heather Blomquist
Pic-
Pic-Guesses:Offshore (in blog), Lightning (in blog), Flash, Foreboding, Heavy weather, Stormfront, Trouble,
oh........... this just gets better and better
ReplyDeleteEveryone has his demons.
DeleteAnd no one escapes.
YIKES!! This was intense! 8 mysterious points, Earthling!! :D
ReplyDeleteMarvin Martian
I"m glad you enjoyed it.
DeleteBeen following your story intently, haven't been commenting because it is so intense and gripping. Interviewing the relatives of the victim must be one of the hardest tasks an investigator has to do. Keep this coming!
ReplyDeleteBlue dude
Yes, it is. I have never met a cop that didn't hate that part.
DeleteThis project really has been fun.
Wow! Time to face the ghost in the machine? You have managed to keep this Jeremy story flowing and riveting, despite all the challenges of Blogophilia. You'd never know. Clever way to integrate the zoopraxiscope! :)
ReplyDeleteAs I said earlier, this project has been more fun than if I had tried to write it as a real novel. The prompts have forced me to think about the characters and how they interact.
Delete