One Who Knows

        The weather doesn’t play well with dead bodies when it’s hot and humid in Greenville South Carolina and I was baking under the sun and the smell of the dead body wasn’t going to be pleasing.  I took my badge and badge case out of my pocket, opened it, and put the flap into my Ann Taylor Loft pant suit coat which was fitting a little snug.

        I was working a lot of overtime so I didn’t do my workouts like the doc said to do.  The badge case was a gift from Chris, my husband, when I was promoted to detective.  His other gift was the bullet proof vest that I was wearing under my pant suit.  Now every time they come up with a new design in protective wear, Chris, my hubby, gives me a new vest. 

               I walked up to the police tape and nodded at a patrol officer standing by.  He looked at my badge, lifted the tape and stared at my ample curves.  I had caught a break today because Sergeant Curtis Robinson was handling the officers who had responded to the crime scene.  Robinson was a good officer, but couldn’t pass the detective exam.  Instead of a bunch of cops standing around talking and such, they were, I hoped, canvassing the neighborhood and they were looking for witnesses that might provide clues or at least get leads that would lead to a clue or two.  I asked Robinson what he had so far. 

         Robinson looked at his notes for a moment.  “O’Connor’s got to the couple that called 911.  I’ve got officers out looking for someone who might have seen something.”

         The area was abuzz with locals taking pictures with cell phones and pro stuff while stretching their necks trying to get a peek.  I headed towards an officer who was standing near the body and noticed he had a baby face with a faint touch of peach fuzz for a mustache.  His name plate said J. O’Connor which is a good hearty, Irish name.  He’s probably from a family of cops and of course his first name would be Jimmy.  I spoke up first, “I’m Detective Sadie Markerson, what’s your first name, officer?” 

         He fumbled with his notepad, “Uh, it’s Jimmy.”

         I was pleased with myself because I had tagged this cop’s pedigree correctly. 

         So, Jimmy,  what do we have?”  I said.

         Jimmy checked his notes.  “I talked to the couple standing a few feet behind me.  They were the ones who called it in, they handed me this piece of paper and they said it fell out of the crazy guy’s pocket, who’s standing over there.” 

         Jimmy handed me the paper and I unraveled the paper and saw the words, “I did it” scribbled in black ink.  I considered this for a moment. 

         “Interesting,  I said very interesting, that’s good.  I’m going to take a closer look at the body.  Keep that couple occupied and hold that scruffy, crazy looking dude.  I want to talk to them.”

         I walked over to the body sliding on my latex gloves while watching Aldus Johnson the medical examiner probing the body. 

         “Hey Aldus.”  I said.  “What do we have here?” 

         Aldus looked up.  He hated talking to people when he could study a body instead.  “Hey Sadie, there are ligature marks around his wrists, ankles, and neck.  There are drag marks on the ground leading to where he’s laying.  His shoes have dirt on the backs.  He was bound and dragged here.  They didn’t slice his neck, but cut his carotid arteries.  There are white, transluscent, gelatinous maggots feasting on the jagged wounds.  He’s got five stab wounds placed strategically around his heart.” 

         Aldus is good and I waited for the rest of his analysis then Aldus pointed at the stab wounds, “What do you make of these stab wounds and their placement?” 

         I studied the wounds, “I wasn’t sure, maybe it has to do with numbers, years, or age.” 

         I thought for a moment until Johnson said.  “What are you thinking?”  Aldus asked.

         “I remember a case I had two years ago where the girl had ten stab wounds.”  “There were five stab wounds on one half of her torso and the other five were on the other half.  They were in column form and exactly four inches apart.”

         Aldus stared at a ladybug on a blade of grass with his magnifying glass which is what he does when he’s thinking.  “I think I remember that case.  I think I saw it in reports, but I don’t remember doing the autopsy.” 

         “I think you were on vacation.”  I said.  “I believe the killer told us he stabbed her like that because ten members in all were to die.”

         Aldus flicked a ladybug off his pants.  “I believe he is serving a life sentence without possibility of parole.” 

         I remembered the killer’s face on the day of sentencing and laughed.  “I was disappointed the perp took the plea to avoid the death penalty, but we stopped a serial killer in his tracks.  Unfortunately, we didn’t stop him before he had killed God only knows how many victims.”

         Johnson slowly shook his head.  “You don’t think we have a copycat criminal happening here?” 

         I gagged at the bodies’ growing stench and Johnson laughed at me.  “There are a lot of similarities and this may be a copycat, but I don’t want to jump to conclusions.  You know I haven’t done that in the past and this may take the cake and I’m not about to start doing that now.” 

         Aldus pulled the victim’s shirt up a little.  “They cut him from navel to chest bone.  Maggots are taking up rental space in his heart.  His eyelids are stitched and he didn’t die immediately.  This boy was tortured because this was personal.” 

         I rubbed my nose with my gloved hands which smelled like excrement.  “This is one of the worst cases I’ve  seen.”

         “I’ve been around for awhile.” Aldus said “and this may take a top spot.” 

         I stood up, stepped back and made room for the homicide photographer as he got his lens close for great angles.  It’s interesting watching a photographer use fill flash when choosing his angles.  He took out a sketch pad and triangulated the exact graphic coordinates for each item.  His drawings are rough, but accurate.  He indicated each sketch in accordance to fixed points.  He drew the entire scene exactly as it was laid out in front of him. 

         I pulled the victim’s shirt back revealing a hideous, deep incision.  The skin had jagged flaps when pulled together seemed to interlock and maggots continued their feasting and weaving.  The photographer snapped more crime scene photographs moving from the feet, up the legs, to the hands and on to the face.

Then the photographer, a true pro started to snap photographs of the crowd while other cops were checking license plate numbers.  Evidence from a picture holds information that we didn’t catch the day of the crime.  We can look back and see if the suspect was there. 

My recently retired partner, Russell Growden, an amazing mentor, taught me that and most everything I know about this job.

         I pulled the victim’s shirt back a little bit more to see his sides.  There were ripe bruises on both sides and carved into the left side of the deceased’s body was, “I did this, love Crimson.” 

“Aldus, is it okay to roll the body over?”  I said. 

I rolled him over so I could see what was underneath the body.  I studied the body, but there was nothing I could see that might be evidence.  I’d been a detective for ten years and get excited at every call.  I wondered when my husband was going to show up  because he’s a newshound for a local TV station.  We had to be careful because internal affairs was investigating me because what they say in the news business is a source close to the investigation leaked details about a homicide that only the perp and the police knew about. 

         The sound of the Nikon D300 interrupted my thoughts and I realized I was letting myself get away from the focus of the day.          Johnson bagged the body’s hands to protect the fingerprints and he took a magnifying glass and searched the surrounding area.  A long black hair lying next to the body’s ear was placed into a small envelope labeled with the date and what it was.  Dirt scraped from the bottom of the shoes was placed in an envelope. 

Then he mixed a liquid that was poured into footprint indentations.  The molds dried and were placed in the evidence bag.  He collected some of the maggots placing them in clear containers.  All the bagged evidence was put into his kit.

of the day.  I always wanted to do this job because I want to bring justice for the victim.  A few of the cases have cold case status and I’m determined to solve a lot of them. 

         “I’m done here.”  Aldus said.  “I’ll be heading back to the morgue.”

         “Don’t get too messy.”  I said.  “I’ll catch up with you later.” 

         Aldus laughed.  “You know I like to get into my work.  I’m truly not involved in my work unless I get messy.” 

         I knew what he meant and laughed.  “Give me a call if you need anything.” 

            Johnson used some tissue to clean up and handed the box to me.  “I will.”

         I watched Johnson pack up everything, discard his gloves and I knew the process was just beginning.  In a few moments the body had been placed on a gurney and Johnson wheeled it to his van and slid the body inside. 

  Jimmy O’Connor, the family cop seemed to be doing well keeping the young couple occupied and even with the solemnity of the scene they were smiling.  He saw me and pointed in my direction and their demeanor seemed to change as I approached, then Jimmy introduced the call in people to me.  “This is Victoria Calbrero and Edward Valgo.”   

         I looked them over and noticed that they were young and wondered how much of the Ten Commandments they knew since anything religious in the schools seems to be put in a back closet thanks to the A.C.L.U.  Now they teach witchcraft and other religions, but not Jesus, not even as a philosophy or how to think about Jesus as a good man.   

         “How you both doing?”  I said. 

         This pimply, faced boy named Edward was digging at a red pustule.  And this kid would never have a chance with my thirteen year old daughter, Rena.  The cute brunette standing next to him didn’t seem to mind Edward digging at a pustule as he pulled his finger away and wiped his bloody finger on his pants.  His face had some pus residue making it’s way down to his chin.  I offered him a tissue and he didn’t seem to notice.  I talked to the kid and got nowhere which made me think of the times when I’m waiting on the store line at Christmas. 

            Victoria gazed at me like a little boy looking at the stars in the night sky.  “We’re a little shook up because I haven’t seen anything like this except on TV.  That CSI program is great.” 

            Chris, my husband, loves those shows and I despise those police programs that play to the viewer’s emotions and I told him I would like to take him on a few homicides, it will change your mind, I’d tell Chris.  For example, it takes a few weeks to get DNA results back if you can get a rush order.

         Edward pointed at me.  “I like that program.” 

            “Alright, Edward, enough of CSI.”  I said.

            Edward seemed like a kid who was just existing because he seemed to be rolling along mindlessly waiting for his next pustule experience in life.  I felt sorry for him, sort of,  but I guessed I would be directing questions toward Victoria.  I watched her get a little antsy. 

“Victoria,” I said. “How did you come about the body?” 

         “We were on our way to work.”  Victoria said.  “Actually, Edward is the one who said something to me.” 

         Edward continued discovering new pustules to harvest.  “Yeah, it was me.” 

         I wanted to buy Edward a case of Clearasil and then got down to business.    “Where do you both work?”  I asked.

         Victoria tapped Edward’s elbow and Edward looked up from playing with his pimples. 

           Victoria itched her nose which was similar in shape to Rena’s.  “I work at the Dollar Emporium.” 

         “I, uh.”  Edward said.  “I work at the Deli Mart.”

I gathered this was going to be a labored interview because some young people today have such nonchalant attitudes about everything.  I’m not sure how a good looking girl like her ended up with this pustulence picker but what I did know is that Victoria wasn’t as bad as Edward.  This interview could go better, still I wasn’t so sure about Edward.

         “Victoria”, I said, “what time was it when you came upon the body?” 

           Victoria looked at her watch wanting to go so I know I had to do a forced interview.  “We both walk to work at around seven-thirty and saw the body at seven forty-five.”  Victoria said.

         Edward came out of his silence yet again.  “We saw the body at seven forty-five.” 

         I looked at Edward and then looked at Victoria.  “Does he always do that?” 

         Victoria laughed and Edward didn’t notice.  “He just got back from Iraq and his mental state is a little off because six of his buddies didn’t come back, but you know what, I still love him and he makes me laugh.”

         I couldn’t disagree with her and I was hoping that Rena would make better decisions.  “Victoria, about what time did you call nine one one?” 

         Victoria seemed to think about this for a while.  “I called at seven fifty and we waited around because that is what they told us to do.  The police arrived around eight fifteen. 

         “Victoria,” I said.  “What did you do while waiting?” 

         Victoria looked at Edward for some reason and I wondered why.  “We were thinking about who he was, how he died, and why he died?” 

         I was surprised at her comments, because people can really surprise me.  I didn’t think she would be that interested in a dead body but she was.  Victoria looked past me and I noticed she was staring at a tall, muscular police man and he was staring back, but he was giving me the once over. 

         I noticed she was smiling and he was smiling also, but Edward didn’t notice the flirting going on between his girlfriend and the cop. 

         Victoria brought her attention back to me.  “Do you know who he is?” 

         “I’m not sure yet.”  I said.  “We will find out in a little while.”

         I asked the standard questions, but neither of them was very helpful with information and Victoria kept looking at her watch. 

“Thank you for your cooperation.  You have been a great help.  Edward, keep doing what you’re doing.” 

         Edward stopped picking a pustulence and nodded while Victoria tugged on his arm. 

         “I’m glad we could help.”  Victoria said and smiled. 

         Victoria and Edward walked off singing to their own tune and I shook my head and I hoped they get a grip on reality.  God have mercy on them and me, especially me.    I’m glad I have a different brain capacity and prayed Rena did to. 

         I caught a glimpse of Chris, my husband, a reporter for the local news station.  He was deep into his stand up.  I always liked to catch his attention, but there are times when professionalism takes precedence and I decided this was a time when we shouldn’t know each other. 

         I turned my attention to the crazy dude.  Jimmy couldn’t introduce us because crazy dude wouldn’t give his name.  The crazy dude as I nicknamed him shifted from leg to leg as if he had an itch he couldn’t get at and he kept looking around as if he were waiting for someone.  I motioned for the homicide photographer to photograph this guy and noticed Jimmy was a good cop as he picked up on this so I knew Jimmy would check crazy dude for license plate number. 

         “Bobby, mind if I call you Bobby?  Who gave you this note?”  I said.

         He rubbed his ears feverishly.  “Tattoo gave it to me.” 

         I looked at him quizzically. 

         His eyes shifted rapidly and drool moistened his gray beard.  “Tattoo had a 13 inked on her left arm and a 67 on her right arm.” 

         I was surprised that crazy dude I called Bobby saw all that.  He might be my best witness and I took a five dollar bill out of my wallet and handed it to him hoping that it would grant me the opportunity of finding him again.  Bobby grabbed at it like it was his last meal and started walking back and forth rapidly in front of me like a caged animal muttering to himself.  Crazy dude abruptly stopped in front of me, looked at me and started rubbing his hands together as if he were drying them.

         I gently touched him.  “What’s your name?” 

         He pulled away and threw his arms up, pushing my hand off.  “I don’t like people touching me because growing up under my fundamentalist, preacher father who would spank me hard everyday with a hard covered Bible caused me to one day turn on him and landed me in jail. 

         I didn’t let his outburst bother me.  “I apologize.  I want to know your name.” 

         Crazy dude Bobby stared at me for a minute and then said.  “Night is my name because the Virgin Mary gave birth to me at night.” 

         I wasn’t sure how to interview this man.  “Where do you live?” 

         Night started to march in place and I wondered if he was high on drugs or just crazy?  “Why do you want to know that and are you planning on coming over for dinner?  I live at the Augusta Street shelter.”  I wrote this down.   

         I almost started tapping my feet in syncopation.  “Can you tell me anything else about this tattoo person?”

         Night was yelling the hallelujah chorus as he walked around me three times.  “She was pretty with long brown hair, five earrings lined her left ear, right ear was empty and she had an upper lip ring.” 

         I was surprised with his memory and didn’t think he would come through with such valuable information.  “Did you see what direction she headed in?” 

         Night pointed looking across the street.  “Yeah, she went into the Taco Bell.”

         Good clue I thought.  “Well, Night, you have been extremely helpful and I hope to see you around.”

         Then I saluted him and watched him shuffle off.

Sergeant Robinson walked over to me and threw a wrench into the process.  “Hey, the canvassing has given us nothing because no one wants to talk.”  I was not surprised. 

        “I knew why the neighborhood is keeping quiet.  Whoever did this has the markings of MS13.  A witness said that a girl with a 13 tattooed on her left arm and a 67 tattoed on her right arm gave him a note that said “I did it, love Crimson” and he said she went into that Taco Bell.  Those tattoos are only worn by MS13’rs.”

         I looked at the big poster of the chalupa on the window.  “Robinson, I would like you to obtain the video surveillance from them.” 

         Robinson stuffed his notepad and pen into the side pocket of his uniform cargo pants.  “I will head over there right now.” 

         I love how teamwork works and now I need to figure out who this dead body is.”