Red October: The Blood Moon Rises

October 2nd, 2014

Thursday

I unwrapped my sandwich; pastrami mayo with extra tomatoes, and all the fixings. Smelled delicious, but when I spread it open, red juice dribbled down the side of the toasted bun, my stomach immediately disagreed.

Late last night, I had arrived at the scene of a crime on Franklin road. Two teenage boys, dead on site. Their entrails sprawled like worms on the pavement, their blood had coagulated into thick globs, reminded me of jello. Coroner had no explanation for why, he just tried to zip them up with all of their, parts, said something about needing to run more tests.

When I scavenged the area, I couldn't help but believe it was personal, these kids had fucked with the wrong sack. Because whoever did it? They had gone to the extreme measure of cutting off all of their toes and fingers, then spreading them across the field. But that's not all, I found a set of rusty pliers, caked in tissue and blood. That's when I checked their mouths, someone had pulled out all of their teeth, and took it with them.

I half expected to find them castrated as well, had the coroner check, a whole lotta shit and urine, but everything was intact. At least they didn't take that away from them.

Later, we would identify the two boys as Rick and Allan Schull; they had been misidentified as the two brothers from the other side of town – who had tortured and hung another boy in the locker room earlier this week. Was it some revenge case? A maddened father seeking retribution? I would never find out.

I threw my sandwich into the trash bin, pulled up the new files that found their way onto my desk today, it was hardly nine in the morning and already – a small pile was building.

Crime hadn't always been like this, sure we were a growing city and couldn't expect to be immune, but unlike the others, our numbers increased because farmers and farm hands were losing their jobs to big corporations and machines, and began searching for work in the big new city nearby. These weren't killers, of man, they were mostly from good and wholesome Christian homes, just trying to make an honest living.

Not that you could trust religion anymore, where Sunday pews filled with Christians, mobsters, politicians, and cable companies bumping elbows – being friendly on the Lord's day. I suppose that's why there's no business on Sundays, it keeps people from sinning anymore than they have to, not that they don't try.

Working this job has at least taught me that much, you can always count on someone doing something wrong somewhere. I call 'em my three somes.

The files on my desk might as well have had the words gruesome and morbid stamped on them, not a one was about rescuing kittens or unpaid traffic stops. Not that I became a detective to do bullshit, just, sometimes the brain's gotta get a break.

I know HR wants us to identify with our victims and offenders, but how can you? When it's all that you see. Even though you try, but by the 48th or 71st, you just feel kind of numb. Same reason why every doctor still got their spare kidney, even though kids die.

Let me tell you, about my day one as department head. I'd propose to put a few cases in the mix that would help lighten the mood, cases that lighten the mood and bring the officers closer to the community. Attacking several problems in one swoop, multi-dimensional thinking, cause we got too many problems to go about fixing them one at a time.

Day one, better get back to work for I don't get a day two.

I picked up the first of the stack. Simon Palinsky, farmer, reported that teenagers had been mucking around the area, and finally some had stumble onto his property last night, disturbing his fields. He fired a warning shot into the air – they returned fire, damaging the side of his barn, then fled. He then went to investigate with his dog – he found traces of blood but no body.