The Ninth Precinct

1 A RAINY NIGHT The rain was pelting the ground on a warm summer night, washing. away any signs of murder. Multiple voices along with the sounds of footsteps could be heard in the old part of town, as red and blue lights danced off the side of an abandoned building. A crowd of pedestrians had started to gather, just to get a glimpse of the horrible display that was before them. "Get these people back, Wilson!" An older gentleman grumbled. He was wearing a gray trench coat with a brown hat, the kind detectives would wear back in the golden days. "This is a crime scene, not a red carpet event." "Sorry Lieutenant, I have the barricades up," Wilson nervously replied. "You know how people flock to the sight of a murder, it's hard enough just to keep the reporters out." "Just do your damn job," he flung his arms up in the air before walking over to survey the crime scene. He was aggravated and mad but still had a job to do. What he had noticed first was how gruesome the sight truly was, this time the body was stripped of its clothes, not only that the poor soul had been skinned and nailed to this run down building for the world to see. The lieutenant had witnessed some brutal murders in his time on the force, but nothing to this extent. He pulled his coat tightly around himself and gave a little shiver. "Doesn't matter how hot it is in the summer, the midnight rain still sends chills throughout the body," a melancholy voice said. The Lieutenant spun around to see a silhouette of a man standing before him wearing a trench coat quite like his own just of a different color and more, shall you say, modern. "Do you always sneak up behind people?” He walked up closer to the Lieutenant releasing a cloud of smoke from his mouth and out into the rain, "Keeps a man alive," he joked. "You taught me that.” "That I remember, but I think those cigarettes will kill you first before anyone else gets the chance right, Grant?" The guys laugh sounded like a large bear warning others to stay away. "Who knows and who cares.” He shrugged. "Cryptic as always. So what brings you this far out of the big city?" "I was just passing through, seen the crowd and decided to stop." "Cut the s**t," the Lieutenant hissed. "I know you. Dead bodies being hung up in different locations, each one worse than the last. No leads or clues to who the killer could be, this is right up your alley." Grant took another hit from his cigarette before flicking it to the side, "Guess you figured me out, Harris." He looked at the body nailed to the building, "I was called and offered money from a very wealthy client to help investigate this case." "Didn't think the money mattered to you." "It doesn't," Grant said. "I have been looking over this case for some time now, and by the looks of things, the killer is becoming bolder. He must not be getting the attention he's craving. Plus a man has to make a living.” "That means he's become careless.” He brushed off the last words Grant said. "The killer will slip up soon enough." He stepped closer to the body that was on display, "Don't be so sure about that." Grant motioned for him to come closer, "See how perfectly he skinned this person?" "All I see is a body that got butchered by some crazed psycho," Harris snarled. "You're not seeing the whole picture here, Lieutenant. The killer sees this as a work of art, this is also the way we have to look at it as well. Whoever this individual is, wants to be seen as an artist, not as a madman." He looked to where the organs should have been. "If you look closely, you will notice how the killer cut the organs out of this body with precision, showing off his handy work." "Why does any of this matter?" Grant sighed and lit up another smoke, "These are all clues to finding out the identity of the killer." He exhaled a cloud of smoke, then took another drag from his cigarette. "How can there be clues? The rain has washed it all away," Harris argued. "Look closer, Lieutenant." Grant pointed, "Notice how there are markings on certain bones. Not only that, the killer left the mouth open revealing that some of the teeth have been removed. The eyes were left but the eyelids have been cut off. Also, the left ear has been removed, but the right ear has been left alone for a reason. He wanted us to see the earring for a reason. Don't be confused by the body being left out in the rain, it wasn't because he wanted to wash the evidence away. It's because, in his eyes, the victim was a sinner, and he made them into something beautiful. The rain is just a symbol of washing the unclean." "I see," Harris responded coldly. "Anyways, the coroner is here to take the body. Let’s say we go get a drink at the nearest bar. Honestly, the reporters flocking around are starting to piss me off, and you know what that does to me." "Could need some antacids old timer.” "Any other smartass remarks before we go?" Harris asked as he walked towards his squad car. "None off the top of my head. Promise me one thing, though." "What?" Harris’s brow raised. "Once we're done with the drinking, you take me back to the coroner's office so I can take a look at the body again," Grant answered. "I will see what I can do," Harris replied. Grant nodded turning to take his leave, "Where are you going?" "To my car.” "Ride with me." "I will just follow you there," Grant insisted. There was a tone to his voice that told Harris the man he called friend wasn’t the talking type like years past. "Shut up and get in the car," Harris demanded. "Don't forget that you're not a cop anymore, I can still arrest you." "On what grounds?" "Disobeying an officer of the law," Harris answered with a grin. "Would you like to get in, or do I need to use the handcuffs?" He stood there brooding it over, "I will do things your way, for now." It was a quiet ride to the nearest pub, the only thing breaking the silence was the sound of rain hitting the windshield along with the squeaking of the wiper blades hard at work. There was only one bar that was open at that time of night, and that was good old Willie's. The owner was a good friend of both Grant and Harris’s. Plus he was the bartender and enjoyed a good conversation from law enforcement. Thus why keeps his pub open such late hours. "Lieutenant Harris." Willie smiled. "What can I do you for tonight?" "The usual.” Harris tossed his hat on the bar before taking a seat. "How about you sir?" Willie looked at Grant and asked. Grant took off his coat placing it on the back of a chair, "Have I been gone for so long that you've forgotten what I like to drink?" Willie's eyes widened, "Is that you, Grant?" "It is, I'm back in town working a case." The man turned and began pouring a beer for Harris, "Does it have to do with all the strange murders?" he asked, keeping his concentration on the task he was performing. "You could say that," Grant said as he took a seat. Willie slid the beer over to Harris before grabbing a shot glass and a bottle of bourbon from behind the counter, "Is that the reason you're back or not?" He poured a shot of liquor and slide it over to him. Grant grabbed the glass and gulped the drink down, "Another shot if you don't mind.” "Answer my question and the first five shots will be on the house." Harris could see the glint in the eyes of his friend, and that usually spelt trouble or at least it did in the past. "You know we're not allowed to talk about that case with anyone," he interrupted. "Just let the man have his bourbon." "Tell you what." Grant held up his glass. "If you give me that bottle, and answer a question for me first. Then I will kindly oblige and give you an answer as well. What do you say?" "You can't make deals like that!" Harris’s voice raised. "That's where you're wrong, Lieutenant. I'm a private eye now not a cop. The same legalities don't apply to me anymore, if I want to share information to get information then that's what I will do. Or are you not curious about what Willie might know?" "I was never here, got it?" "Understood. Do we have a deal or not, Willie?" Willie set the bottle on the counter, "It's all yours.” "Good, we have an understanding." He began pouring himself another drink. "Tell me Willie, have there been any strange characters hanging around the bar lately?” "This is a bar? Strange people hang around here all the time." Grant swallowed down another drink of bourbon, "Let me rephrase that, have you yourself heard or seen anything out of the ordinary?" "Hmm," Willie ran his fingers through his thinning grey hair. "I haven't seen anything personal, but I've heard stories." "What kind of stories?" "Odd ones." Just talking about the things he’s heard gave him the creeps, not the kind bar talk he likes. "Go on.” He poured himself another drink. "Well, I've heard stories of a man dressed in black walking the streets late hours of the night, whistling while carrying a red rose tight in his hands," Willie said with an eerie tone to his voice. "What does this person look like?" "Not sure, nobody has seen his face," Willie said. "Then how do you know if it's a man or a woman?" Harris interrupted. "How should I know?" Willie responded. "I hear what I hear, but I believe you owe me an answer now.” Grant smiled and pointed towards the other side of the bar, "Looks like that answer will have to wait, you have some more patrons that need their whistles wettened." "Don't worry the bottle it’s on me, but this isn't over." Willie wasn’t happy that he was cheated, but he didn’t have time to argue the facts for that matter. "Now that he has gone, I can get to the real reason I brought you here," Harris said. "I had a feeling you had an ulterior motive for bringing me here.” Harris took another sip of his beer, "Tell me, Why did you leave the force?" Grant lit up a cigarette and released a cloud of smoke from his mouth, "Reasons." Is all he would say. "Something must have happened that made you not want to be a cop anymore. You had it all, you went from being a street cop to a detective all in a year. Before you made captain you decided to walk away, there has to be a logical reason to why." Harris seemed like he was hurt in what Grant had done years ago, and wanted some answers. "If I tell you, you would think that I am mad," he said, drinking down another shot. "How about you put the bottle to the side and try me.” “No thank you.” Harris shrugged, “At least I tried.” Grant took a drag from his cigarette, “But I will give you this bit of information. I went to an asylum to visit with a man accused of murder twenty-something years ago. His name was Bobby Sikes, after hearing his story I kind of helped him escape to get his revenge on the real killer. That man gave his life to save others. Long story short, when I told my superiors they demanded I keep things hush or I would be demoted. It was then that I made the choice to walk away and become a private eye. Do I question my actions? Do I regret it? Not for a second." "Did it have anything to do with your brother?” "It did." Grant nodded. "And I finally found the closure I sought after all these years, not only that my brother's spirit can rest in peace." "Didn't think you were the religious type," Harris said before taking a drink of his beer. "Things change when you stare into the eyes of the devil," Grant answered. He pushed the half-empty bottle of bourbon over to the man sitting next to him, "On the house." He stood up and grabbed his coat. "Where are you going?" Harris asked. "I said I would have a few drinks and I did. Hell I even gave you some unneeded information." He started to walk away from the table then paused, "Time is wasting, and we need to make a trip to the coroner's office." Harris looked at his watch, "The place should be empty by now." He slammed the glass on the table, not exactly pleased he was leaving a cold beer behind. "Let’s go."