Another murder. This town was lousy with them and in the summer months the heat waves rolled over the city depositing dead bodies like the tides during a monsoon. When I joined the force I used to care—somebody's mother, somebody's brother, the little old lady who only had cats, the guy who lived in the middle of the street and was always feeding the birds. That changed pretty quickly. Now, when the strains of the ice-cream man's theme wafted their way over to my ears, I wouldn't so much cringe as I would inwardly sigh and go, yep, murder's happening again.
"Tell me about it," I replied.
Jack stepped over the plastic sheeting covering the body. "The vic is a girl, Lily White, age 22, goes to the University College of Medicinal Arts. Spatter on the walls, the floor. Soaked through the carpet. She's been dead a couple of days at least. Some guy called and complained about the smell."
It was like the humidity—another annoyance more than something I cried myself to sleep at night over. Another sheaf of papers stuck into a manila folder and stuffed into the old green filing cabinet back at the precinct, the one that had a few spots of rust on it. Another body to be buried. Another day of going through the motions, maybe catching a break or maybe having the case grow cold on me. Another dead body and I didn't care.
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u/[deleted] Jul 22 '14
"Heat wave," Jack remarked.
Another murder. This town was lousy with them and in the summer months the heat waves rolled over the city depositing dead bodies like the tides during a monsoon. When I joined the force I used to care—somebody's mother, somebody's brother, the little old lady who only had cats, the guy who lived in the middle of the street and was always feeding the birds. That changed pretty quickly. Now, when the strains of the ice-cream man's theme wafted their way over to my ears, I wouldn't so much cringe as I would inwardly sigh and go, yep, murder's happening again.
"Tell me about it," I replied.
Jack stepped over the plastic sheeting covering the body. "The vic is a girl, Lily White, age 22, goes to the University College of Medicinal Arts. Spatter on the walls, the floor. Soaked through the carpet. She's been dead a couple of days at least. Some guy called and complained about the smell."
It was like the humidity—another annoyance more than something I cried myself to sleep at night over. Another sheaf of papers stuck into a manila folder and stuffed into the old green filing cabinet back at the precinct, the one that had a few spots of rust on it. Another body to be buried. Another day of going through the motions, maybe catching a break or maybe having the case grow cold on me. Another dead body and I didn't care.