Serial

03. Detective Cris Dauer

    The call about the body was made at 7:32 am the following morning. An unfortunate farming woman, Mrs. Rose Kimborough, made the discovery one her way into town to meet her girlfriends for brunch.

    The Bonbury police arrived at 7:54 am. Detective Cris Dauer was late, arriving at 8:08 am with a pair of dark sunglasses and a coffee that tasted burnt. He took a minute to examine the scene from his car. The vehicle in question was a 2010 Dodge Caravan, black. The driver side door was open, and through the rear view mirror Cris could make out the shape of a head, lolled over.

    When he had received the call he asked for nothing to be processed until he arrived. The two patrol officers who had gotten there first were consoling Mrs. Kimborough, who could not even glance at the van without having a fit of sobbing. Detective Charlie Hines, Cris Dauer's partner, was at there already as well, taking notes as he walked around the scene of the crime. Cris left his vehicle and walked up to his partner, handing him another cup of burnt coffee.

    “So what do we have here?” Cris asked, jerking his head towards the driver side of the van.

    Charlie gave a small shrug and inhaled sharply, “I haven't seen anything like It, Cris. We haven't touched anything yet, just started taking pictures like you requested.”

    “Thanks Charlie. This is the first body we've had since I've came here that hasn't just been from a damned domestic dispute. I've been itching for a real case.”

    Cris put his coffee down on the hood of his car and slipped on a pair of plastic gloves. He rubbed his hands together and cracked his neck, then walked with purpose to the driver's side of the van.

    The corpse sat in the driver side seat. A noose hung tightly around his neck, the running line of the rope wrapped behind the headrest, ending in the dead man's right hand, which clutched it tightly. His left hand was shoved into his unbuttoned pants.

    "Looks like a pervert with an asphyxiation fetish. When's the medical examiner getting here?”

    Charlie looked at his watch, “Not for another 45 minutes. Bad traffic in Ernesting.”

    “Comestock, Mackay, get a body bag and deal with the corpse until the medical examiner gets here. I'll take the front, Charlie if you want to search the back?”

    Charlie Hines nodded and retreated to the rear of the vehicle. The two patrol officers, Mackay and Comestock, worked together to process the body. They carefully removed the corpse, laying it in an open body bag on a stretcher. As they began to take samples and fingerprints, Cris turned his attention towards the interior of the van.

    Cris first took photos of any evidence. Once thoroughly photographed, he began to dust the interior for prints. The driver side was laden with prints and hairs, presumably belonging to the corpse. The passenger side was clean. No prints at all. It seemed odd to Cris, even if the driver did not often have passengers, there would normally be the odd print from the driver, putting groceries in the passenger seat, opening the glove box…

    “Cris come back here. You're going to want to see this.”

    Cris slammed close the glove box, left the interior of the vehicle and met his partner in the back, and looked into the open trunk.

    “f**k. Is that what I f*****g think it is?”

    Charlie grimaced as he took a few more pictures of the scene. Another corpse lay rigid in the back of the van, facedown and half covered in hay. The back of her neck had a deep wound, caked in matted hair and dried blood.

    Beside the corpse, brown with rust and more blood, an old hatchet lay.

    Cris took a step back in disbelief, “Is this f*****g Hatchetman? Did we find THE f*****g Hatchetman?”

    Charlie shrugged and got his clipboard back out. “Not sure yet. There's no ID on either body… but judging from the look of them the man is the right age and the girl fits the victim profile.”

    Cris backed from the van and gave out a loud hoot, “f**k yeah! No more domestic disputes and drunk and disorderlies. We found The Mother f*****g Hatchetman.”

    “I don't know Cris. Doesn't something about this seem odd to you?” Charlie scratched his head and stood back as Mackay and Comestock brought out the second corpse to begin processing. “We should call the Ernesting team for this.”

    “f**k that! This is our ticket out of this craphole. I'm not going to let some assholes from the Ernesting department to take that away from me.”

    “They have the equipment to handle a case like this, Cris.”

    “Charlie! Please have my back on this! Let's just cross reference and confirm it's him before we file the report.”

    Charlie looked hesitant, but he still let out a big sigh and a small shrug, “Ypu get a week Cris. Then too many questions will be asked. As it is Rose is going to be telling all her friends at lunch about this whole ordeal.”

    “Thank you Charlie! You won't regret this!.” Cris turned to head back towards the front of the vehicle, with a giddy laugh hollered out, “Mother f*****g Hatchetman!”

    The Bonbury police spent another hour at the crime scene, dusting and examining every print, speck and hair they could find. Outside of the van there was very little evidence. The only thing of interest that Cris could find was a small pile of ash, looking to belong to a cigarette, but with no butt nearby and no way of determining if it had any relation to the bodies in the van.

    The medical examiner from Ernesting arrived at 8:58 am. He declared both bodies dead, the man having most likely died of asphyxiation, and the woman having died from the wound in her neck, most likely caused by a small axe or hatchet. The medical examiner was to take the bodies back to Ernesting for a full autopsy and toxicology report, both of which were requested by Charlie. Cris had protested at first, wanting the report to be done more locally so the case couldn't be taken over. Charlie reminded him that processing in the city would take longer, giving Cris more time to confirm the dead man was indeed Hatchetman.

    Cris Dauer left the scene at 9:15, burning with excitement over his first real case since being transferred to Bonbury from Ernesting. But the farther away from the scene he got, the harder it was to keep another thought from burning away at his mind.

    Henry Harris’ handwritten invitation was crumpled in Cris Dauer's pocket, having hastily been shoved in there without his coworkers noticing.

    Locked away in his apartment, Cris had a matching invitation.