Jan. 18th, 2013

zestypinto: (Default)
My first real attempt to writing a story in awhile, this was a second rewrite after I didn't like how the angles went. I'm still not too pleased at this story result, but I felt like it was moving too straightforward for what I'd like it to tell and tried a different angle to push some depth. Keep in mind, I'm also bound by a word limit of 1,300 words and I'm already pushing it right now.

Crime of the Year
Donald Lee


0751
“Deviled eggs,” the coroner would announce five hours later, but you could tell with one look at the stain that gurgled out of his lips, stained his clothes, and pooled into the alley as that swirling, gray-yellow mass. The beat cops think it’s heroin. Dirty needle four inches away, what else could it be, but then I asked them what he used to find the vein and they were speechless. Of course they would be. Homicide was never supposed to be easy.
Why did Denny have to pack deviled eggs of all days? Guarez would eat them because he hates to see food wasted but I already spent yesterday hearing him talk about nothing else but his nutritionist and his cholesterol. Son of a bitch never said anything about it when he was visiting Jacob and took a slice of cake, though. Needed to go back to the office and file my report.
CALL REPORTED AT 0713 FROM LARRY HESS WHILE JOGGING. BODY WAS REPORTED DEAD ON ARRIVAL AND FOUND LYING FACE UP MISSING SHOES, CONTENTS OF POCKETS, AND ANY FORM OF ID WHEN ARRIVED AT SCENE AT 0723 TO CLOSE OFF CRIME SCENE.
VICTIM APPEARS TO BE IN MID-TWENTIES WITH NO SIGN OF VISIBLE TRAUMA OUTSIDE OF VOMITING STOMACH. USED HYPODERMIC NEEDLE FOUND AT SCENE OF CRIME FOUR INCHES AWAY WITH THREE FINGERPRINTS, TWO BELIEVED TO MATCH WITH VICTIM. BODY SENT TO CORONER AT 0752 FOR FURTHER ANALYSIS.

0843
Not a lot of people up at this time that haven’t already left for work. Two people recognized the face of the victim as Roy Scholl. Owned “No Place Like Home”: the diner where he died in the alley. Never ate there, myself; never had a reason to until recently. Guarez never knew the place existed and Manny always kept thinking about retirement before spending money. If this was a cop film, he would be the first guy to get killed. If this was a cop film, we could also blame everything on the foreigner with the goatee and everybody would be happy. Search warrant request filed for his apartment and restaurant.

1018
Third fingerprint identified to a Harry Wathwick. Some reports on him involving public indecency, no assault nor drug charges. Last report was four months old, no real idea where he’s been for the last few months. Another request filed from his social worker as well as any nearby clinics where he was seeing treatment. Finally, some beat patrols checking with drug dealers for any possession issues or heroin sales.

1043
Guarez passed word that Harry Wathwick was found in a hospital. Nurse reported that it was critical condition, but his pockets had a wallet containing Roy Scholl’s ID, cards, and forty-three dollars. Found in a park passed out and was ready to be taken away until it was found his coat had blood stains on his back. We looked at each other and nodded, time to roll.

1103
“What do you think?”
“About what?”
“The Mets. You think they’ll get it this time?”
“Isn’t it early for that?”
“Oh come on, just because you’re a detective doesn’t mean you don’t get to guess.”
“I don’t know.”
“This case can’t be on your mind that hard.”

1143
Harry Wathwick was breathing through a respirator tube. No sign of consciousness. Doctor’s reports found two perforations they stitched up on the back. Traces of drugs in his blood: morphine. Not a lot, but enough for any junkie. Too little for a suicide, nor any reason. Might have been to keep the pain of the wounds down. They didn’t look like they were made with a strike, more like he was hung.
Clothes were taken for inspection, doctor couldn’t predict when the man would come back around ,but it wasn’t going to be soon. Either way, items needed to go to the lab for inspection.

1302
“She made deviled eggs, didn’t she?”
“Yeah.”
“I could tell. Let’s get a burger. Oh wait. Shit. Jake’s on.”
“What?”
“Jake Guiraldi, one and three on the top of the sixth.”
“Do you have to listen to the radio?”
“Sorry, you know me and my Mets. C’mon, let’s get a burger it’ll be my treat.”
“There some reason for that?”
“Yeah, the reason that I saw this morning’s case with you. Save them for tomorrow and let’s get something real.”

1401
Coroner found the cause of death with a 2mm bubble in the heart. Embolism. Call from the landlord, got the OK to visit Roy’s apartment.

1435
Landlord warned us that the place was a mess. He meant it facetiously. The apartment had squirrels on stringed on branches, a raccoon in mid-fight with a bobcat on a wooden table, and a white terrier that stared at the entrance of the door in a red and green Christmas sweater with a permanent toothy white smile that emphasized its canines. Landlord said he did it partly to scare away any robbers.
Everything was clean and in order. Some magazines on wild game, a couple of books on taxidermy on the shelf. No record of gun ownership on file. Everything here in whatever order this was supposed to be. Landlord said outside of Roy’s hobby, was a decent guy. Paid rent on time and never had complaints about or from his neighbors. Bedroom was immaculate, fridge strangely bare. No one else lived there. Kitchen counter had a layer of dust. Picture frame was knocked over and dusty, but no one familiar looking in the frame except maybe the dog. Trash only had basic waste, may have also been unused for some time. Landlord mentioned that he spent lots of time at his restaurant.

1452
“Yeah? Don’t know, waiting on a few things on a case tonight. I don’t know. I don’t know. I really don’t know. How’s Jacob? Yeah, but I just wanted to ask. Yeah. I guess so. Nothing from the counselor? I’m just asking because I want to be sure. Uh huh. Uh huh. I’m sorry. Okay, I’ll tell you when I get an idea, but today’s not so good. Uh huh. I love you too. Bye bye.”
1524
Owner of the restaurant contacted to give an OK for search warrant. Forensics blood tests found small traces of morphine, but much higher traces of doxylamine and acetaminophen. Cough syrup. Study on the body showed some sign it was under the effect of a cold at the time.

1553
Restaurant looked like a 50’s style place except modified with corduroy seats, some memorabilia of old photos of random people in random places, and a stuffed raccoon or two on a branch, staring out of the windows and dressed in Christmas sweaters. Some Christmas lights were strung up, but none of them were lit.
Back of the kitchen were some eggs and wilted vegetables on a metal table. An open counter let you see into the diner, where some of the raccoons were positioned in a way that kept their glass eyes staring into you as though trying to find something out.

1554
“Something’s stuck on a grate here.”
“Hold on.” “Uh huh? Uh huh.”
“This is 12-3 calling dispatch, we’re at 314 Johnston Ave, requesting backup to block off area.”
“What? Why did you let him do that? Yes, I trust him, but why would you let him why would you allow him to?”
“This is 12-3, there’s.” “Oh god. Dispatch, call in a coroner. Expect a few bodies.”
“Fine, I’ll talk with him. He’s all right, he’s all right. I’ll see about heading home.” “Hey, Guarez, I. Oh shit.”

1555
I went for a smoke outside. The sky outside was a mess, and in that mixture of cigarette smoke, the yellows and oranges and grays all mixed together, and made this sickly colored mixture. It was hard to breathe out the stress, like it all wanted to come out. I stared into the sky some more before I would head off, thinking how much the horizon looked like a giant deviled egg.

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