The cameras flash, snapping another angle of the grisly murder. Anita Pinkerton's body lays on the bloodied bed, sliced open from naval to throat, each organ is cut in such a way to allow it to be removed as far as possible from the body, without being entirely disconnected. The intestines have been very neatly removed and bound by medical grade rubber bands into five large bundles. "Respect the territory of another" painted in crude brush strokes decorates the wall behind the bed, created with Anita's own blood. The police have not released the worst of the details to the press, and it is unlikely they will. They have relased an A.P.B for Andrew Q. Pinkerton, who has gone missing. His extensive medical knowledge, the lack of any signs of struggle or forced entry, and unexplained dissapearence make him the prime suspect. Added to the bulletin is the only lead they have, a silver luxury car, unknown make, model, or tag that The F.B.I is sending it's top investigators straight from Washington, and the U.S. Marshalls are already on scene co-operating with local police and sheriffs.
"God damn it, Becker." says LT.Rollins, in a muted tone. "If there was ever a police officer to define the term "shit magnet", it's you. Jesus Christ, what the hell is happening to this city?"
After a few hours, the crime scene analyst and investigators are satisfied with the evidence they've collected, and the body is restored as neatly as possible and transfered to the county morgue. You sure could use a drink...or four.
No comments:
Post a Comment