The Nightmare Effect

Chapter Five

        I was at work when Carter sent a squad car to pick me up. The police limo must have been used trying to catch prostitutes, but then again, I wanted to a nice car to ride in. The officer drove me down to the station and showed me to Carter's office once again. Carter wasn't alone.

        "Ah, Edgar, I'd like you to meet Commissioner Warren," I shook hands with the scruffy guy. He had a strong grip on him, course, I wasn't one who showed a lot of muscle to begin with.

        "So, you're the guy the station has been goin' nuts for," he remarked in a deep voice.

        "I hope it's for the dreams and not the shit I did back in high school," I joked. Warren laughed and Carter joined in. Carter seemed more relaxed when the Commissioner was around. He was probably just kissing ass, but then again, I felt a vibe coming from him that I couldn't quite pin down. I took a seat in the chair across from Carter's desk.

        "We've got news about that dream you had," Carter pulled out a file. "Woman named Wilma Peterson was found dead in her home earlier today. By the looks of it, she seemed to have overdosed on a potent mix of heroin and meth. These are the pictures we took at the scene."

        I looked over a few of the pictures. Seeing her face reminded me of when I saw her body in the mirror. A shame, a damn shame. "What are these little marks on her arm, here?" I pointed.

        "Track marks. They're a result of constant needle injections," the Commissioner responded.

        "Wait, was she shooting up before she got killed?" I asked. Apparently the police hadn't ruled in murder yet.

        "Hate to say, but this all points to an overdose, not murder. Even more, she had a history of addiction," Carter stated.

        "Can you take me to the scene?" I asked.

        "Will that help you at all?" Warren asked.

        "It might," I responded back.

        Carter and I went on our way. It was going to be a while before we got to the home. I thought this was a good time to get to know him, if anything to try and get a few things cleared from my record (I wasn't mother's little angel when I was a teenager).

        "So, Steven, how's life?" I unconvincingly asked.

        He looked at me with a serious face and then chuckled. "It's fine, you?"

        "Helping the police is the most exciting thing in my life right now, if that answers your question," I took out a cigarette.

        "No smoking in the car," Carter replied.

        "What? Why the hell not?"

        "Ever heard of second hand smoke?"

        "Ever heard of bullshit? Besides, you should only be concerned about if you were a mutant twin growing off my left ass cheek." Man can I be an asshole. I should work on that. We finally arrived at the home and made our way in. I had to wear gloves when looking around. It looked like Wilma lived alone, but she had a picture of a guy and her kissing in her bedroom. Her house was pretty clean, clean for a single woman,  at least. I went to the front room, feeling like I missed something. I looked over at the wall. She had framed degree on it. "Yale University," I read aloud. Carter was standing behind me.

        "She was a good prosecutor," he noted.

        "She was a lawyer. I think murder seems more likely now," I said.