Читать книгу Creatures of the Chase - Mikail - L. M. Ollie - Страница 12

Neil Perry liked to arrive at work early. It was another beautiful September morning with a promise of light cloud, gentle breezes and a temperature which would top seventy-five – perfect. He eased his car into the parking spot reserved for him in the basement garage of the Boston PD, grabbed his briefcase then road the elevator to the fifth floor. It was just pass seven in the morning and the department was, as usual, quiet at that hour. He liked that because it gave him time to sort through the night’s events and there was always something interesting. Boston rarely disappointed him. Perry could count on at least one homicide and that was what Neil Perry did: solve homicides.

‘Right, so who got shot, stabbed, bludgeoned, strangled or whatever overnight?’

‘Christ, that’s not nice,’ Perry thought as he looked over the preliminary report. ‘Robbery is one thing but to cut the victim’s throat ear to ear, nearly decapitating him; why the hell do that?’

He wandered into the staff kitchen intent upon making a cup of instant coffee. ‘Cause of death – exsanguination: a bleed out, big time.’

It would be all over in less than a minute Neil plus the victim was hit in the back of the head so he was probably unconscious when it happened; didn’t feel a thing. Doesn’t that give you the soft fuzzies to think that this fucking murderer cared enough to …

Come on Neil, he didn’t care one bit truth be told and in your heart of hearts you know it. Be honest, it’s just like at the slaughter house where they stun the animals first to make it easier so you can stick you soft fuzzies where the sun don’t shine.

‘Christ, it’s still not nice.’

Murder never is Neil.

He stirred the milk and sugar into his coffee and thought. ‘Thirty year old white male, six feet tall with an athletic build found near his car in a parking lot by Security at ten p.m. His wallet was missing but the keys to his car were found dangling from the door lock.

‘How strange is that? Why didn’t the perp take the car?’

Further thought was impossible as the day staff arrived full of greetings and conversation; mostly about last night’s baseball game and a rehash of New York Yankee outfielder Dave Winfield’s accidental killing of a seagull the week before.

‘You know the police charged him with cruelty to animals don’t you? It was an accident for crying out loud.’

‘Norm, give it a rest. Nobody gives a damn about Winfield or his stupid seagull.’

*****

‘Why this way?’ Neil thought as he walked back to his office. ‘What happened to good old-fashioned murder like stabbed through the heart or shot in the stomach? Or, conversely shot through the heart or stabbed in the stomach or, while we’re at it how about a strangulation or blunt-force trauma to the head causing intracranial hemorrhage and death. Cutting throats now, that’s not done here: not usually.’

But even as Neil thought it, he remembered back five years: Easter 1978 and the corpse of twenty year old college student Charlie Lowe from South Korea. He was found lying face down in a pool of his own blood. Homicide was naturally suspected since Lowe’s throat had been cut. His closet-sized room looked like a slaughter house.

‘Jesus, this isn’t pretty.’

Have you even been to a homicide that was Neil?

Photos were taken, residents of the student complex were it occurred interviewed – no one saw or heard a thing – and trace collected. Finally the body was bagged and sent to the morgue.

Two hours later Neil was standing within inches of the autopsy table. The Chief Coroner Nigel Rogers was in the process of removing his gloves. ‘It’s not a homicide Neil. The boy committed suicide.’

Neil stared at the gaping wound. ‘You’ve got to be kidding, right?’

‘Trial cuts, here, here and here: often called hesitation cuts. It’s a suicide – sorry to spoil your day Neil.’

‘God in Heaven.’

‘God must have been in Heaven because he wasn’t with him.’

He did not dare to breathe a prayer,

Or give his anguish scope:

Something was dead inside of him,

And what was dead was Hope.

‘Thanks for that Nigel. Now you’ve really spoiled my day.’

*****

Hours later Nigel Rogers’ verdict was confirmed when a suicide note was found tacked to the bulletin board in the students’ lounge. It had gone unnoticed for no one knows how long.

Why did Charlie Lowe kill himself? Three reasons – unrequited love, poor grades and parents. When Charlie Lowe senior was informed of his son’s unsatisfactory academic performance, he ordered the boy to abandon all hope of higher education and return home to Seoul immediately.

‘I guess he didn’t want to,’ Neil whispered as he signed off and closed the file.

*****

Neil checked the time. Victor Yakinchuk’s friend Stan Munroe was dropping in soon.

‘I’ve got a surprise for you Neil.’

Perry didn’t like surprises but he liked Stan. They had met at Victor’s funeral which was one horrible fucking nightmare. Stan was Victor’s college buddy and best friend as well as his best man at his wedding.

Both Stan and Neil tried very, very hard not to break down but God in Heaven how could such a thing happen? It just didn’t make sense.

‘What the hell were you doing in Morocco Vic?’