The Old Detective

Phil Olsen, veteran sergeant detective swore on the 12 precinct, stepped out of the Victoria Crown with a stone heart and a grave mood. His back straight as razor but shoulder hunched forward, and his short, bleached hair, too, swayed impossibly in the Autumn wind. And as he brushed the hair backward and held his hands over his head while squinting at the distance, the hot air blew by to chill the souls.

The mountain was burning and roaring with the crackles of splinters and trunks. Horror spread across the bleak land with dark, black smokes, going up and above, covering the whole glaring sun in the form of a flame monster. Its mouth opened and seemed just enough to engulf everything on its way.

Olsen had no hope in retrieving any useful evidences from the crime scene inside the field of fire. His luck had long abandoned him the moment he decided to join the division, and at the same time, broke off from the family business.

He was cursed but not of natural occurrence, rather man-made manipulation.

The heat rushed and darted in the air, mixing with the breeze and slowly brewing the town to a perfect cup of sweat. The firefighters swarmed into the fire, shouting and yelling; helicopters panning back and forth in the sky, dropping water to relieve as much help as they could offer. It was a chaos, totally preventable though.

"It's no one's fault, you know."

Olsen turned to greet his partner, lieutenant sergeant Kim Coe.

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Accomplice

“Daniel Watson, 31. Unemployed. Served five months in the Marine before he got a Dishonorable Discharge. The details are in the report,” Detective Erik Reynolds flashed the folder on his hand. “He lived alone, no close relative or associate. The neighbor said he kept it to himself pretty much all the time, not a fan of chit-chat I guess,” He chuckled. “We searched his house and came up with nothing but trash he collected from the street. Photos will be pinned to the board,” He pointed at the giant but thin screen mounted on the wall. “As with the ballistic, we have got confirmation that every single shot in the five deceased police officers matched to the weapon from our suspect,” Erik paused. “Gunshot residue was found all over Daniel Watson, our primary suspect. As well as Jonathan Kellein’s palm. We still should not rule out the possibility that the two were working together.” said Erik.

“Danny, I want you to check with the surveillance tape around that block. No, make it three, any camera that is within three blocks to the building. I want to know every single detail.” Stressed Erik.

“And you Kelly, I want you to go poke around the family of Jonathan Kellein, find out who they were and what they do, I trust your communication skills, so don’t let me down.”

Erik Reynolds flicked through the folder and stopped on a page. “Where is the autopsy report?”

“There’s been complication in the autopsy department, so it won’t come through until the day after tomorrow.” reported Jane Stellar.

“What kind of complication?”

“The Medical Examiner felt ill yesterday, something about a contamination from the dead body and there isn’t other available ME around the state. They said he should be able to return to work in a day.”

“Why, can’t the machine do it?”

“They said the machines wasn’t suppose to operate without the ME’s presence. Rules.” Said Jane.

“God damn it, how am I suppose to close this case fast with one of them in a coma that is probably going to die in the next 48 hours, and another one unattended in the freezer?” Erik threw the folder against his desk hard, everyone in the room was spooked.

“Boss, I--”

“I am sorry. Sorry guys.” Erik yelled.

His phone rang. “Hello.”

“Hi, Detective Reynolds, this is Claire Givens from Lenox Hill Hospital, Doctor Mary Harper asked me to tell you that she is sorry, but the patient emitted earlier was beyond our help.”

“Oh, well. Thanks for informing us, Claire.”

“You’re welcome.”

Erik went silence for a few seconds, then said “JFK is dead. Not that he had much to live for, but,” He paused again. “Sadly, the only accomplice is also dead now, that means we don’t have much of a case. Compile the paperwork, and Kelly, get the autopsy report as soon as you can, I believe the deceased’s family deserve an end to this brutal murder.”

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Fierce Fight

       "Blood boiled fight started in the living room, and then the two struggled to the kitchen and Mr. Franklin the victim grabbed the sharp knife hung on the rack while he was pressed down toward the drain and took a stab on our John Doe here. The penetration caused internal bleeding in the gut, so to speak, and he died of excessive bleeding according to the preliminary report from Lauren. The time of death estimated to be around 8 to 9 PM, matching what Mr. Franklin had described. He said he called in as soon as the guy went down. Would you like to talk to Mr. Franklin or would you like to walk around the scene, or check the body?" Betty finished her report to Detective Steve in an automated tone. They stood outside the house, it was a quiet block, nothing stirred in the air. 
       "I'd like to see our John Doe first." Steve ducked past the tape and went inside. A man around his 40s was lying dead in a suit on a pool of blood with a knife planted at his belly. He was intrigued by the fullness of the guy's facial hair, wildly grown in dirty yellow. Steve rubbed his skinhead in a backward motion and scratched his beard stub.
       Mr. Franklin greeted Steve when he went by the ambulance, he seemed fine except a bruised eye and a cranked nose.
       "Hi, I am detective Steve Baldwin from NYPD and in charge of this investigation, I am going to ask you a few questions about things happened tonight, is that good with you?"
       "Yeah."
       "So, do you know the man that attacked you? Did you meet him somewhere? What happened."
       "No, I don't know that guy, he just jumped on me when I unlocked the door. It was dark inside the house so I didn't have a good look at him. He choked and beat on me, I fought back and we both choked each other. He let go and I stumbled into the kitchen. He then rushed toward me and pinned my head down to the drain, but I kept my head straight and pulled a knife and took a stab at him. I don't know what else I could have done. My life was on the line, too."
       "Did you notice anything suspicious before entering the house? Was there any car parked nearby that shouldn't be. Are you in conflict with anyone? Can you think of anyone that wanted to hurt you? Did you owe someone money?" Steve fastened his speech as he thought about the possibilities out there.
       Mr. Franklin touched his chin and came up with nothing interesting.
       The paramedic dropped their conversation and sped away to the hospital while Steve continued examining the scene of crime.

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