Olympus Drive Book 5: Situation Normal

Chapter 1

The vic, if we can call them that, is about the general consistency of mashed potatoes, and is spread out across the entire intersection.

"Jesus Christ," I stop short at the smell.

"Oh, hey," Thyme, clearly splattered in the remains of this unfortunate human.

"What are you doing in this country?" I ask.

"What'd you do this for---?" Rhea asks, sniffing innocently.

"I wanted to, and I came to visit Anna and Alice," Thyme says, placidly.

"Okay I'll take him you---Christ," I tug Thyme away from the carnage, as the other cops nod gratefully. It's just understood he's my problem now.

"Who is that?" I ask, pointing to the puddles of human meat.

"I don't know," Thyme shrugs.

"Okay, so where's the head---don't look at me like that detective. I mean so that we can identify who it was," Rhea says.

"Oh---the head's over there, I tore it off and shook it till the brains were about like scrambled eggs, then I tossed it and kicked it," Thyme, with zero shame.

"Am I gonna get to know why?" I ask.

"I wanted to."

"Okay, look, why'd you call the cops then? They're  gonna book you, you know that," Rhea sighs.

"I was going with 'why did you murder someone' but sure let's go there," I say, glaring at Rhea.

"Because I wanted to ID whoever it was," Thyme says.

"And you weren't thinking of that when you tore the victim's head off?" I growl.

"I was, but I didn't care. I also wanted him in pieces."

"It's a him?" I ask.

"Yeah—definitely," Thyme nods.

"How---why---where---why would you wander into town and murder this person?" I ask, "What---- you just picked some random person?"

"No," Thyme says, and venom rises in his voice. The hate in his eyes, he looks like his mother suddenly, "I came home tonight. And my little girls' knife—it had blood on it. This person's blood. And there is no, no good reason, that some man's blood should be on my little girl's knife. I could smell him on it. But she didn't feel like talking about it. So, I thought he should be dead, and she should know he's dead."

"What--? He hurt her somehow? Little Alice?" Rhea asks, upset.

"What---you smelled someone's blood on her knife so you automatically decided to murder someone?" I stutter.

"Can you think of ANY good reason his blood should be anywhere near my little girl's knife?" Thyme hisses, "Even one, just one--- that doesn't involve him doing something unspeakable to her?"

"Off hand--- no, however the police exist for a reason----like that's why we're here? You call us if you think something happened?" I sigh.

"As I said. She didn't want to talk about. Now she doesn't have to," Thyme says, satisfied, "She'll know he's dead. I'll talk to you people and she won't have to."

"Not when you don't know who it is. You didn't think to get a name----?" Rhea, kneeling down by a pile of once human syrup, sniffing.

"If you touch or lick any of that I swear to god Rhea—," I growl.

"But—,"

"We do not LICK evidence; we talked about this on Friday."

"Fine," Rhea mumbles.