Detective Stamos
"I think he's dead."
"I'm so glad you're here."
I am standing on the edge of a cliff. Yes of course at three am. Looking over the edge of a cliff at a body tied to a piece of rope. The body has all of its internal organs hanging out down the cliffside. The organs are pulled out the mouth. I was happy long ago, when I didn't necessarily know that was possible.
"Okay," I rub my face with one hand, "Let's go over the checklist—,"
"You know---have you considered it's not one of the kids---?" Rhea asks, hopefully. To fully set the scene, I am wearing a three piece grey suit I'm sure will be destroyed at some point soon here, and Rhea is wearing joggers and a t-shirt that says 'proud mom of a few dumbass kids'. I don't strictly know why. Hector gave him that shirt last Christmas, for no apparent reason. He just appeared, giggled manically at the two of us, and tossed the shirt at Rhea, said "happy pagan winter time fest" and disappeared. Rhea has yet to take it off. Why were we together on Christmas day? Well, there was a body on my porch and I blamed one person and that person's dumbass kids so we were working on that situation.
"I know that it is almost definitely one of the kids----where's the flow chart?" I sigh. I made a flow chart for exactly this type of situation. It works disturbingly well.
"Fine," Rhea tugs a worn piece of paper from his pocket, sighing dramatically, "Is it a murder---?"
"Yes," I growl.
"Is it multiple murders?"
"Not that we know of yet."
"Was it done with a bow and arrow?"
"No?"
"Was the person incinerated?"
"No."
"Is there no way we can ever prove Hector did it?"
"Maybe?"
"Is it exceedingly vile and horrendous with gratuitous violence?"
"Yes."
In unison, nodding: "Zag did it."
"He's not supposed to be up here," I sigh.
"Supposed to is usually very different from what the child is doing," Rhea says, knowledgably.
"True enough---all right I'm gonna call someone," I sigh, getting out my phone. I'm so damn tired.
"Not gonna get deader if we leave it till morning."
"We do not leave murders till morning," I growl, dialing.
"Are you on shift?" one of the sergeants answers the phone.
"Fortunately not, Vince, but I need to report an incident," I sigh, "I'm gonna need you to send a couple of cars out to the cliffs, we got a body—,"
"Will do, we need you in the center town now though, it's all hands on deck."
"What?" Rhea and I say, in unison.
"Yeah, some dude called in homicide directly after committing it, first officer on the scene says the vic looks like the body got poured out of a blender---,"
"I'm on my way."
"Fuck," Rhea rubs his face.
"Any chance it isn't one of my kids?" I ask, starting back towards the car.
"None."
When we reach the center of town, Thyme is very obediently leaning against a lamp post, handcuffed, while the two responding officers throw up. One of them is a girl and he was holding her hair back and offering her a bloody rag. When she sees us, she kind of moves away from him.
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.
"Can I go back now---? Only I told Anna I would be back," Thyme, preparing to casually walk away.
"No. You are under arrest. For the murder you very clearly committed," I hiss.
"What'd you call the police for if you didn't want to be under arrest?" Rhea asks.
"So Alice—and anybody else who might need to know---would know he's dead," Thyme says, poison back in his voice. That tone makes most people wither. If I were afraid of dying then I would as well, however I'm actually not. Him straight up murdering me would be an improvement on my evening.
"Hello, what are we doing---?"
"Oh a human being that's been turned into toothpaste—,"
"This IS a crime scene," I sigh, heavily.
"We know."
"We don't care."
Luna and Dara, each have a coffee and are watching the police try to remove body from the pavement it's been smashed into.
"Yeah sorry—I did tell the dispatcher on the phone that if you had any like---spatula-like devices that'd be helpful," Thyme says, helpfully.
"What are you two doing here?" I ask the girls.
"He called me," Dara says, clearly annoyed.
"Yeah, can you defend me for murder?" Thyme asks his baby sister, hopefully.
"A murder I'm guessing you've confessed to?" Dara frowns.
"Yeah, well, I mean, I did it."
"Why?"
"This man's blood was on Alice's knife," very calmly, like that's a valid reason to commit homicide.
"Okay, this is fine," Dara, pinching her nose, clearly not fine.
"Okay then--- I take it you're his legal council?" I ask her.
"Yeah," not at all happy about it.
"Fabulous, I need to take him down to the station and book him," I say, heavily.
"I don't want to stay there," Thyme says. Now, typically this sort of statement wouldn't matter. But the thing is, Thyme does not stay places he doesn't want to. As in, he can actually bend the bars of the prison and walk on out. And I would not put it past him to kill cops who got in the way of wherever he thought he was going. "I told Anna and Alice I'd be back. They looked sad."
"Okay I'll say it----you should have thought of that before you ripped someone limb from limb and pounded them into the pavement!" Dara growls.
"I wanted to do that as well," Thyme, with zero shame.
"Okay, it's a formality, we're gonna go down there and get a statement and talk, we have to right now, then I'm sure your legal council will arrange bail or something," I say, smoothly. Should I be doing this when it's a conflict of interest since I basically raised this kid? No, I shouldn't. Does anybody else in the precinct want to get within a mile radius of him? Absolutely not.
"Okay---can you answer if Anna calls?" Thyme asks, tossing Luna his phone.
"Sure," Luna says, catching it.
"Why are you here?" Rhea asks her.
"Drama."
Rhea and I, in unison, "Where's your brother?"
"I am not his keeper."
"Someone is intended to be though," Rhea says.
"Yeah, no, I've deputized his boyfriend to do that, I want to know why Thyme turned someone into liquid pedophile," Luna says.
"As I said—his blood was on my little girl's knife. There's no good reason for that," Thyme says.
"But, can you understand that however odd that might be there exists the possibility you should have at least found out the reason?" I ask, tiredly.
"I asked her if she wanted to talk about anything. She said no," Thyme says, flatly.
"You know that I take creeps out into the woods as hunting practice," Luna, eating something, "It's good for the girls."
"Please don't say these things out loud around me," I sigh.
"And she's my little girl, and she needed to know that he didn't disappear, he's very completely dead and won't ever do anything again considering every single bone in his body has been broken and ground to a paste," Thyme says, that evil back in his voice, as he almost smiles at the memory of the atrocity.
"Fair enough," Luna shrugs, "My method doesn't involve cops though."
"I don't care," Thyme says, rubbing his wrists---how did he get out of the cuffs? Never mind. Just never mind.
"So should I tell Anna you'll be home later?" Luna asks, looking at the phone.
"Yeah, whatever. She won't be like---surprised."
"Can I recommend that we all act like this was a weird force of nature and not your fault?" Rhea---Jesus Christ he's licking his lips he did fucking touch it. I fucking told him. I swear to fucking god.
"Why?" I ask.
"Yeah, why?" Dara asks, "That's not going to be believable. I'm guessing he called 911."
"I did," Thyme says, frowning, "You know who it is, don't you?"
"I've got an idea," Rhea admits, "I might be wrong it's a little hard to tell when the man's homo-sapien putty—,"
"But?" I sigh.
"But I think it's one of your cousins, which means it's gonna be trouble," Rhea says.
"What---did you not recognize who you were pulverizing?" I ask Thyme.
"No," Thyme shrugs.
"One of your uncle's--,"
Everyone: "Which?"
"Luke?" I guess because Rhea was not gonna come up with the appropriate name. I assume Luke they only have two uncles and Hector doesn't have illegitimate children (the legitimate ones are more than enough problems all on their own).
"Yeah, one of his bastards," Rhea says, glancing at the puddles of human flesh.
"Huh, don't care," Thyme shrugs.
"Yeah, but he probably will, all right, come on," I say, taking Thyme's arm, "Let's go to the station and you and your lawyer can talk."
"Who--? Oh yeah Dara," Thyme says, as his sister and legal council hits him in the back of the head.
"Come on, let's go see who it was," Luna says, taking Rhea's arm.
"Do not interfere with the police," I growl, well aware she's not going to listen. Beautiful. Next thing we know, monsters will be breaking out of the Underworld.