The Killjoy

Enter David

"Press charges;" scoffed Slash, "as if."

"As if he couldn't  lock you away in San Quintín and swallow the keys! Do you forget who are we talking about here? Or what could they dig out to make you look like you could never hold on a plaque again in your sorry pathetic life?"

"I didn't think about that sir." Slash said, looking at his feet.

"Can I say something sir?" Izzy asked.

"No you can't Straddling. You two go back to work. And stay away from Mustaine and Ellefson, for fucksake."

*****

Three hours and twenty phone calls later, Slash was on the brink of despair. Murder cases were never easy, but serial killers contrary to what people think, are the exception in crime. Most killers get caught before they have time to perpetrate more than two deaths, because they are simply not as intelligent as they think they are, or sloppy, secretly wanting to get snared away.
Real, evil, Ted Bundy kind were a rare breed, and difficult, very difficult to trap.

"We need to think ahead of him." Izzy said, putting the burritos bag on Slash's desk.

"How do we think like a murderer?" Slash grabbed one burrito out of the bag.

"By going to the places where his victims were last seen."

"Ok, let's see then, what's the last victims name?" Slash asked, munching.

"Umm, Andrew Collins. Last seen in Los Pájaros, La Ciénaga.  There's an address and a roommate."

"Shall we pay a visit?"

"Why the fuck not?" Izzy said, grabbing his lunch.

They ate in the car, the radio blasting Beyonce 'Partition' at full blast.

"I'd so fuck Beyonce bro," said Izzy, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"You and I both dude. Hot caramel right were it belongs."

"Fuck yeah."

The building was an old, chipped, gnats crawling, vagabond refuge, junkies smoking crack in the stairs, peeling paint, piss smelling cliché type of hideaway.

"Brian Williams?" Slash called, knocking on the door.

"Who's calling?"

"Open the fucking door, piece of shit! LAPD!" Izzy shouted.

"The fuck I will! I want nothing to do with the pigs!"

"Brian, common, is about your friend." Soothed Slash.

"Andy?"

"Yeah. Common kid, we just want a word."

A young boy oped the door, very thin, very nervous.

"Hey Brian." Said Slash. "Can we ask you some questions? "

The boy gave Izzy a nervous sided look.

"Don't mind my partner. Talk to me."

"Yeah, don't mind me. Unless you fuck it up, then you better mind me a lot." Izzy said, an evil smirk on his face.

"When was the last time you saw Andrew?"

"I already told the police everything I know!" The boy mewled. " Are you gonna give me money?"

"Sure. Tell me what you know and I'll give you money." Slash smiled.

Izzy gave the boy a cigarette.

"Ok. Look, the night Andy went missing, we were in Los Pájaros with North Avenue looking for hook ups, because sometimes that's were the rich ones park on Saturdays after the games, when this dude pulled up in a imported car."