The Legendary Axeman

The Investigation of the Cortimiglia Murders: The Crime Scene

Chief Investigator Gooden pulled up in front of a house, located in the outskirts of New Orleans. He had been called by the station, stating that another series of murders had taken place in the early morning hours of March 10, 1919. It appeared to be the newest "addition" to the Axe killings, as he recalled from his conversation with the officer.

Shutting the door of his polished car, Chief Investigator Gooden walked towards the home, ignoring the whispers of curious passersby that sounded all around him. He was greeted by a familiar face; officer Letto. Holding the yellow tape up for him, Letto smiled at the man, as if ignoring the fact that they were situated just outside of the place where grim murders had taken place the previous night. "Morning, Chief."
The chief nodded, muttering a 'good morning', as Letto walked beside him, "Any news about this?" Asked Gooden, as he glanced at the small garden which spread all around him. Police officers had stepped on every inch of the estate, leaving behind muddy footprints and ruined lilies.

"Nothin' besides what the radio told you," said the officer. He appeared to be somewhat distressed- his greyish bushy brows were furrowed, his jaw was clenched.

The chief did not pry.

Once they reached the door, Letto turned towards him, his face twisted in a pained grimace. The chief looked at the officer beside him, his sudden pause making him curious of what was to come. "Look, I just gotta warn you; that crime scene- it's like nothin' I ever seen before. So . . ."

Gooden cut him out, "Thank you, officer. I'll handle it from here." Smiled the Chief, sending a nervous Letto on his way. He already knew what he'd see was grim; all the Axe relating cases had been and always would be. Gooden was sure that the mad behind them, the infamous Axeman, was no ordinary madman. Never had he crossed such a dangerous beast before in his forty years in service. There was definitely something out of the ordinary going on with him . . .

As he walked inside the wrecked home, officers on the scene greeted him, staying by his side as he explored the ferocious-looking rooms. Gooden was shown towards the back part of the house, where a broken door was placed on the floor. The officer which stood beside him informed him of what information they had gathered. "The back door's panel had been completely knocked out from the outside; investigators believe that's where the attacker had gotten in from."

The chief squinted his eyes, crunching down on the floor to observe the broken door. There were definitely signs of breakage on the door frame; it appeared as if though the attacker had been unable to remove the entirety of the door and had just settled for the lower panel. 'Perhaps this might truly be the work of the Axeman,' thought the Chief, his eyes following the debris which had stained the floor grey underneath him. Although he was sure of the identity of the murderer, he needed to continue with the throughout investigation. 'The only thing left to do, is to examine the condition of the bodies. Then, we might truly be able to figure out who was behind these murders-.'
The chief's thoughts were cut off by the sound of nervous shuffling feet coming from the younger officer who stood behind him.

His eyes bounced from side to side, as if to see if any other officers where present. Then, once he made sure, he whispered, "S-Say, Chief Gooden, sir, um. D-Do you think that this case is connected with the other Axe ones? I know we're not supposed to make such conspiracies but I just can't help but think that these similarities between these cases are not to be overlooked."

The chief glanced at his officer, the younger man's body trembling under his gaze. As Gooden slowly got back on his feet, his eyes squinted once more. No information regarding this case -and the other Axe ones- had been released to the lowly officers of the New Orleans Police Department. They only knew what the investigators had said during press conferences.

"Perhaps you might be onto something." He spoke, making the officer let out a sigh of relief. "But, before jumping to conclusions, we must continue with the throughout investigation of this murder. Should we find anything that might lead us to think that this is indeed the work of the Axeman, then . . ." he looked at the officer, whose eyes had began to twinkle, "You can think of yourself as one hell of an officer."

After many words of gratitude, the officer smiled at Chief Gooden, who appeared to be nothing short of uncomfortable with the situation he had put himself in. "I apologise," muttered the younger man, whose grin hinted otherwise.

Gooden cleared his throat, shaking away any unpleasant feelings, and looked at the young man once more; "So, um. About the victims."
The officer lead Chief Gooden towards the front door, where the outline of a body had been drawn out in white chalk. It appeared to have been in an odd angle; uncomfortable for even the dead. Blood had seeped into the wooden floor beneath them, turning it into a haunting maroon colour. As Gooden looked around the room, he realised that another body had been drawn out, a much . . . smaller body.

Gooden's eyes darkened, his pulse quickened. "Mr. Charles Cortimiglia was murdered right here . . . alongside his two year old daughter." Started the officer, whose smile seemed unfit for the scene that spread right in front of them. "The bodies have already been delivered to the hospital for a proper autopsy."

Gooden could not seem to be able to keep his eyes away from the drawing of the little girl. Such a young, pure soul was taken away from -what remained from- her family. His mind began replaying scenes of the murder, of how it could've taken place. Once the little girl in his mind was slain, he shut his eyes, sighing at the monstrosity that had taken place in his imagination. After muttering a quiet prayer, the chief excused himself and walked outside, where swarms of journalist had gathered, waiting to catch some information regarding the case.

One of the journalists who presented himself as Mr. Smith from The New Orlean's Blues, ran towards the chief, eagerly holding his pen and notepad. "Please tell me-," after glancing at the chief's name tag, the journalist continued, "Chief Gooden, sir. This case has similarities with the other Axe relating ones, correct? So, is this truly one of the Axeman's killings? Or is it perhaps a copycat?"

Gooden let out a sigh, his jaw clenching. Who had let out such information to the public before the investigation had concluded? "I cannot reveal anything regarding this case. However," the chief looked down at his feet, the image of the little girl coming into his mind. "Copycat or not, I can promise this much; that we will catch this man."

The journalist's brows furrowed, seemingly annoyed at the lack of information he could detain from the investigator. After bowing his head slightly and mutterings a goodbye, Chief Investigator Gooden got in his car, leaving behind an irritated journalist and a happy officer.