Breaking news, p.6
Breaking News, page 6
As it was, an hour and a half later, the headlights of the pea green car arced across the house and the car pulled up, onto the drive. Jasper stood, straightened his body. He’d almost been napping, his body resting against the siding of the house. His heart began to thump and bump in his chest and he could feel the delicious tingling in his fingers as he gripped the hammer. Push me pull you, he thought and his knuckles popped as he felt his forearms swell. He heard the man exit his car and slam the car door.
Jasper heard the stumbling stride of the drunk man. So, he’d driven home drunk. Naughty, naughty, Mr. Snotty. You could have killed innocent people, with your reckless disregard. We’ll just take care of that little problem, won’t we? Jasper thought.
Just as the man drew abreast of the box hedges, Jasper stepped out, raising his arm as he did so. His eyes looked into the surprised ones of his victim. He smiled, a huge grin.
“Guess I’m not what you expected, am I lover boy?” Jasper said softly, then giggled. He brought the hammer down hard on the top of the man’s head, a satisfyingly solid and lethal blow. The sound of bone crunching and the hollow pumpkin splitting filled Jasper’s ears and a thrill of delight shot through his body. It tingled from his fingers, into his hand and up his muscular arm. It shot straight into his brain, where it exploded with jubilant exaltation.
The endorphin and adrenaline mix were intoxicating. Jasper felt the deliciously warm spray of blood on his face. He licked at it. He enjoyed the coppery taste of it. He wouldn’t go out of his way to drink blood, but a taste now and then was quite nice. Very satisfying and enjoyable. Lip smacking good in fact.
The breath of a soft sigh left him as he watched the man go down to his knees and fell backward onto the sidewalk, leading to the house. The man’s body was hidden in the darkened shadows of the house. No light reached either of them.
Oh, so delicious, it’s the wishes that you die, and no one will cry. You’ll burn and you’ll fry where you’re going Mr. Pea Green Ford. Now weeping will be done for this lover boy, he thought. Not for this turd. Jasper raised the hammer once more with gusto and brought it down, over and over onto Mr. Pea Green Ford’s face. The sound of bones shattering and juicy meat thumping wasn’t loud, but it filled Jasper’s ears, like music.
The warm spray of blood coated Jasper’s face, turning it into a crimson and dripping mask. And Jasper licked at it, once more. He felt a chunk of brain or flesh bound off his face. Directing his hammer to the hands, Jasper made short work of those as well. When he was finished, he stepped back, looking down. What a charming mess, exquisite in the making. Jasper pulled a pair of plyers out of his back pocket of the black coveralls he wore.
Squatting before the dead man, he grabbed onto one of the few teeth that was still embed into the upper jaw of the fractured skull. He wiggled it a little then pulled it free. He held it up and nodded approval. Forsooth, a nice tooth. He smiled and put it in his pocket. He then pulled a pack of handy wipes from his back pocket. He pulled a damp cloth out and began to wipe off his hammer, then he wiped his face and then his hands, humming softly to himself. He pulled another wipe and did the same. Once he felt he was clean enough, he took off his coveralls and folded them neatly.
Going to his car, he popped the trunk and laid the hammer and his coveralls in the back of the car. He sighed contently. It was the afterglow and a wonderful time, he needed a cigarette. He smiled and shook his head. He got into his car and pulled away, it was time for dreamland.
He wondered if he’d dream of pea green meat patties? What a wonderfully tantalizing sound they made beneath his hammer.
Ϫ
Olivia was turning a pancake over, when her smartphone rang. She answered it and then served the pancake to her older daughter, Charlotte.
“Detective Shin.” She answered, winking at her daughters, who were eating breakfast. Jeff took over the duties of head pancake maker so she could take the call.
“This is dispatch, we were told you need to get to a crime scene, involving a homicide. I was told that it had something to do with your task force.” The female voice informed her.
Olivia’s radar shot to high and she took the address down and hung up.
“Sorry honey, I’ve got to leave early. Can you get the girls off to school?”
“Sure can, honey, but you need to eat. Sit down and you can have the next pancake.” Jeff said.
“Thanks sugar.” She smiled.
“Why do you have to leave? Why can’t you just go in at a normal time?” Gail asked.
“I won’t be going to my office sweetie, I have to go out. There will be other people waiting for me.”
“Should I let Bob out? He’s farting a lot mom.” Charlotte asked, eyeing the dog who was staring at her.
“Yeah, you better. Did you already feed him and Tubbs?” Olivia asked.
“Yes, mam. Come on Bob, you stink.” Charlotte ordered, her thumb and forefinger holding her nose and her tongue sticking out.
Olivia dialed Les’s cell, it was early, but she wanted him to meet her at the crime scene.
“Hello?” Les answered, sleepily.
“Hi Les, it’s Olivia. I’m sorry to wake you so early, but I got a call to a homicide, and it might be our guy’s work. I’m going to text you over the address, can you meet me there in an hour?” She was pouring pulpy orange juice into a small glass.
“Oh jeeze, I sure can. I’ll get ready and head out. Thanks and see you there Olivia.” He said and then hung up.
“Here you go, Honey.” Jeff said and handed her a pancake.
“Thanks, I’ll need my energy today.” She smiled, grabbing the maple syrup.
“I want to be a policeman, just like you, mommy.” Gail piped up.
“You’d best study hard, it’s a lot of work.” Olivia smiled at her daughter. Charlotte rolled her eyes.
“Brown nose much?” Charlotte said, looking down her nose at her younger sister.
“Charlotte!” Jeff said in a low warning tone. Charlotte ducked her head and took a bite of pancake.
“What’s a brown nose?” Gail asked, looking from Charlotte to Olivia. Olivia’s mouth clamped shut, she just couldn’t laugh in front of them. No, she wouldn’t.
“Mommy, what is a brown nose? Is it like when Bob has cat poop on his nose?” Gail asked again.
Olivia started coughing, her face turning bright red and she looked over at Jeff. His hand was covering his mouth, his eyes crinkled up in laughter. He was no help.
When she could finally speak, she wiped at her eyes.
“No, honey. Charlotte wasn’t being very nice and tried to make a joke. Don’t worry about it.”
“So, it isn’t about having poop on my nose?” She persisted, her dark eyes focused on the tip of her nose.
“Maria says caca and Bobby, he says hockey. But isn’t hockey a game? Not poop. That’s funny. Hockey, hockey, hockey.” Gail sang happily, her dark head rocking back and forth rhythmically.
Olivia had to turn her back, she’d not last if this kept up.
Ϫ
Olivia pulled up in her car. She still felt the subterranean giggles run through her from breakfast. Sometimes it was hard being a parent. Jesus. You can’t laugh, and yet, the urge was so overwhelming that it made it worse. She’d finally had to leave the kitchen and went into her bedroom and fell on the bed laughing hysterically into the pillow. How had her life come to this? Laughing over poop jokes?
Her own mother was a sourpuss. She’d always been critical of Olivia, whereas her father, who’d been a cop, had been a joy. Her parents lived in Key West, and when her mother left, Olivia breathed a sigh of relief. The woman had no joy in her. When she’d been young, Olivia had long hair. But her mother would yank it and slap her in the face. Or haul her around by it.
At the first opportunity, Olivia had cut her hair off. Her mother had been rabid. And had smacked Olivia across the face, leaving a brilliant red hand print. Her father had been outraged with her mother. He’d forbade her to touch Olivia again. She still had, but had kept it to hard pinches. Olivia thought her mother had been jealous of her, though she’d not known why.
There was no love lost between mother and daughter and when Olivia had left for college, she never looked back. With her own two daughters, Olivia promised herself, she’d never strike her own daughters. She’d not. She loved her girls with all of her soul. Her mother never asked about the girls, though her father did. She shook her head. She grinned again, thinking about the poop thing.
There were three patrol cars, an ambulance and neighbors standing just beyond the police tape. She was never fond of onlookers. They reminded her of vultures, trying to feed from the dead. It wasn’t a flattering thought, but neither were looky-loos. She turned and saw Les driving up. He had a serious face and she was glad, she’d hoped that she wouldn’t see excitement and joy, for a fresh kill.
Some of the neighbors had that look. She’d never understood it, except for morbid curiosity. She wondered about their personal lives. Some journalists lived for that. She was glad to see that Les did not. He parked behind her car and got out.
“Hey Olivia, so you think this person is a victim of our killer?” He asked, pad and pen in hand.
“I don’t know, I’ve not seen the body yet. I just got here. Do you want to come with me or stay back here?” She asked.
It was a whole different ball game, seeing an actual dead body, up close and personal, as oppose to seeing a body in a photo. She remembered her first time and she’d nearly puked. It didn’t help that it had been about as messy as these murders. Over the years, she’d made herself look at the bodies as puzzles and not people. Except for the children. No, those were too hard.
Especially, after she had her daughters. It tore them all up when death involved a child. It was heart breaking and devastating and tore the soul asunder. She always went home and held her babies after one of those days. She shook the dark thought away.
“I’d like to come with you, if that’s okay?”
“Sure. Let’s go. Just be warned, it will be gruesome.” She said and bent under the tape and Les followed her. They walked up the sidewalk and the policemen divided, letting her through. Les was behind her. She saw the body and her stomach did a flip flop. It was their killer and this was a grisly and bloody mess. When Les came around and saw the body, she heard him choke. Turning to look at him, she saw that all the color had drained from his face, like a receding tide.
His eyes looked like two huge sapphire marbles and he stumbled back, his mouth opened in a silent, horrified scream. He tripped and fell on his ass, and he turned and began to crawl away, and vomited into the grass. She felt bad for Les, but there was no way she could warn him, or prepare him for his first look. He’d known if the murder was from the killer’s work, that the body would be horrific. Telling someone about it and then seeing first hand were two completely different things.
She guessed that the visceral punch was more than overwhelming. Seeing it in person, smelling the blood and the excrement the body expelled was devastating. Death wasn’t pretty, in any way, shape or form. Once more, she thought of her first time. But here and now, she too felt sick at her stomach, but she was used to death and crime scenes. The photos, while good, just wasn’t the same as seeing the real deal. It was visceral. It was god awful.
She walked over to him, she could hear him crying softly and she dug in her pocket for the obligatory tissue pack, moms and detectives never left home without. She pulled a couple tissues from the pack and handed them to Les. He nodded as he took the tissues, dabbing at his eyes and wiping his mouth.
“I’m really sorry Olivia. I am, I don’t want to let you down. My god, it’s just, it’s just that seeing it up close like that. The smell, and all and you know it is, or was a person, but Christ.” He said, as a sob broke from his chest. He stood, a little shaky on his legs.
“Don’t apologize Les, I’d hate to see if it didn’t upset you. It upsets me as well, but I’ve gotten used to it over the years. When it deals with children, I’m all undone. Those are the ones we really can’t take. So, please, don’t apologize. Did you just want to wait in the car?”
“No, I need to do this. I need to report this. You and all the police have gone up to superhero status in my book. I want to make sure my readers know this, understand what it is that you do for them.” He said, as a uniformed officer walked over and handed Les a bottle of water.
“Thank you so much Officer Reeder. Thank you.” Les said and rinsed his mouth out. The officer nodded and smiled at Olivia and she thanked him as well. Reeder was good people. Once Les had gathered himself, she walked him to the body. The forensic weenies were finishing up.
“What can you tell me?” She asked Cynthia Lopez, the head of the forensic team.
“Same as the others. Looks like he was killed some time near one. We see the same splatter pattern. Unofficially, the same pattern of the wounds, until we can get a closer look, the same murder weapon. As far as we can tell, nothing was disturbed on the vic’s clothing. There is just nothing. Also, we did notice that a tooth was pulled, but again, that is unofficial until we can take a closer look, and get with odontology. But it is preliminary.” Cynthia shrugged.
“Do you know who found the body?” Olivia asked.
“Reeder said it was this poor bastard’s wife. She’s inside.”
“Thanks Cynthia, I’ll read the report later.” Olivia said and walked past her, Les in tow. She came back and looked down at the body, and shook her head. It didn’t even look human anymore. It was a bloody pulpy mess. She could see shards of the skull sticking up from the meat. Bits of brain leaking out. She looked over at Les, and he was looking down at the body.
He was pale, worse than pale, and his eyes were filled with tears, but he was holding it together. Good man. It really was hard to take. She hailed Officer Reeder.
“What is the name of the vic and his wife?” She asked. Reeder took out a black book from his back pocket and opened it.
“Vic’s name was Matthew Clermont, age thirty-three. He is survived by his wife, Sarah and they have a six-year-old kid, Randy.”
“Do you know who found the body?” She asked.
“Wife did, when she woke this morning and her husband wasn’t there, she came out to see if the car was in the drive. She said she nearly stepped on him.”
“Jesus. How is she?” Olivia breathed.
“She’s okay, holding it together. The neighbors heard her screaming, guess when she saw the mess. They came running. I questioned them, but no one saw or heard anything until they heard Mrs. Clermont screaming.” Reeder said, shaking his head.
“Okay, thanks.”
Olivia stood a few more minutes looking at the body, then she turned to look out in the street. There were neighbors and looky-loos. Sometimes the killer hid among them. Their twisted egos wanting that gratification, soaking in the attention to their victim. The onlookers were all dressed in their pajamas or robes. She looked over at Les, who was also looking out at the onlookers.
“Are you ready to go in? I’m going to talk to the wife.” Olivia said.
“Yeah, what will happen to the body?”
“Coroner will take it back and the forensic people will go over it.” She said, as they stepped around the body and into the house. There was a young uniform standing near the woman, who cradled a boy. Mrs. Sarah Clermont’s face was leached of all color, her hair in a tangled mess. The boy in her arms was asleep. Mrs. Clermont looked bad, but she was holding it together. Good, it would help with questioning her.
“Mrs. Clermont, I’m Detective Olivia Shin, may I ask you a couple questions? I understand you’ve had a horrible shock, but if we could talk for just a moment, I’d appreciate it.” Olivia said softly, aware of the woman’s fragility.
“Yes. Yes, I think so.” Sarah Clermont said, her voice trembling. Her eyes were huge in her head and she hugged the child closer to her chest. She rocked the child in a slow rhythm, and Olivia thought to comfort the child certainly, but to also comfort herself.
“Thank you, Mrs. Clermont, I appreciate it. Where was your husband last night?” Olivia asked.
“I don’t know, he was upset, and left out of here about nine last night.” She answered slowly.
Olivia noticed that Mrs. Clermont had a long scratch down her throat. She watched the woman’s face.
“Mrs. Clermont, what happened to your neck? Did you injure yourself?” Olivia watched as the woman’s hand came up to touch her neck, she had a slightly confused look on her face. Then her cheeks tinted pink.
“My husband was mad at me. I spent too much at the store. We got in an argument and he threw a box of cereal at me. It hit me in the neck. I guess it left a scratch there.” Mrs. Clermont’s voice was vague and distant, as though her mind were elsewhere.
“Is that when he left? Did he say where he was going?”
“Yes, he left after that, but he didn’t say. He just left.”
“Does your husband throw things at you a lot?” Olivia asked gently.
Two bright red spots burned in Mrs. Clermont’s cheeks and tears began to slide down her cheeks. She nodded, her hand going protectively to the child’s head.
“He’s stressed about money. Work isn’t going so good. He’s the manager over at the Workings Restaurant, on Queen street.” She said.
“Did he have a bad day at work yesterday?” Olivia asked.
“No, he said it was a good day.” She said, still rubbing at her neck.
“When did you notice your husband wasn’t home?”
“I woke up about six. I had to get Randy up and get him ready for school. I saw that Matt wasn’t in the bed, so I went downstairs. He sleeps on the couch sometimes. But he wasn’t there either. When I went out the front door…” She stopped and swallowed hard, her face began to screw up. Tears splashed down her face and onto the sleeping boy’s head.
“Please don’t worry, I have the rest of what I need. Is there anything we can do for you Mrs. Clermont?” Olivia asked.
“Will they get his body off the sidewalk soon?” She asked and shuddered.
