After six years in patrol, he was promoted to the rank of Detective and assigned to the robbery division in Area 5. Garcia proved to be an excellent investigator with a keen sense of people and a knack for knowing when they were lying or hiding something. He seemed to be a natural. His success as a robbery detective led to his assignment to the homicide unit only three years after being promoted to Detective. Now, with two years of homicide experience, he is being sent to one of the toughest areas of Chicago.
Garcia wears one of his finest dark brown suits for his first day, accompanied by a white dress shirt and light brown tie. His first task is to meet with Detective Commander John Marshall, a three-year veteran of Homicide Area 4. Commander Marshall is 47 years old, barrel-chested, wavy brown hair, wire-rimmed glasses with a look of all business. He is wearing a well-tailored grey suit with red striped tie.
“Welcome to Area 4 Juan,” greets Marshall. “We’ve been looking forward to getting some help around here and you come with an outstanding reputation.”
“Thank you sir,” responds Garcia.
“I’ve got just a few rules, and if you follow ‘em you will do fine. First, don’t take any shortcuts. Your cases need to be solid. We have a great conviction rate in this division, and I expect it to remain so.”
Garcia nods.
“Second, no drinking on the job, got that?”
“Of course not sir,” says Garcia with a surprised look.
“Third, it’s dangerous out there, you need to always have your partner’s back. And carry a backup weapon, you never know when you might need it. You might want to carry a blade as well. Finally, do what Ricci tells you to do. He’s a seasoned detective and knows these neighborhoods better than anyone. Got that?”
“Yes sir, no problem.”
“VICKIE!” yells Marshall as he looks out his office door.
“Yes sir, what do you need?” responds Vickie, the Commander’s administrative assistant, as she hurries into the office.
“Take Garcia here and introduce him to his new partner.”
“Will do,” Vickie answers. “Juan, if you follow me I will take you to your new desk and introduce the two of you.”
Garcia follows Vickie through the maze of desks, room dividers, and filing cabinets that fill the homicide investigative office.
“Mike,” says Vickie as she approaches Mike Ricci sitting at his desk reading a report. “This is Juan Garcia, your new partner.”
Ricci looks up, “Thank you Vickie. Juan, have a seat,” as he motions Garcia to sit at the desk opposite of him. “Welcome to the fourth.”
Detective Mike Ricci is 58 years old, and his rugged facial features look all of that. However, His physique looks more like he could be 48. Ricci keeps himself in excellent shape by regularly working out three days a week. He is also rather large at 6’3” and 220 lbs, most of which appears to be muscle. Ricci comes from an Italian family and Garcia notices Ricci has the characteristic look of someone who is Italian. His hair is wavy black with plenty of gray mixed in. Garcia is no slouch, but at 5’10” and 180 lbs, Garcia wouldn’t want to tangle with Ricci.
Ricci is dressed in beige dress pants, light blue button-down long sleeve dress shirt, unbuttoned at the top, and a dark blue patterned tie hangs loosely around his neck. A large half-consumed cup of Dunkin’ Donuts coffee sits among the many papers on Ricci’s desk.
“You come with quite a reputation,” states Ricci with a sly grin.
“I just do the job the best I can, sir.”
“Well, the first thing you can do is knock off the sir stuff. You call me Mike and I’ll call you Dickhead, how’s that?”
Garcia stares back at Ricci with his mouth slightly open, not sure how to respond.
Ricci then breaks out with a big laugh, “I’m just messin’ with ya! I’ll call you Juan, how’s that?”
Garcia laughs back, “You had me there for a minute.”
“Have you been briefed at all?” asks Ricci.
“Yes, I’ve been told you recently had a homicide that matches a pattern of homicides from a couple years ago. Drug dealers being stabbed to death.”
“That’s pretty much it.”
“And what makes you think this new case is related to those from two years ago?” asks Garcia.
“The weapon. Two years ago we had a string of drug dealers getting stabbed with a kitchen knife right through the gut, then left to bleed out. What made it unique was that each time, the perp left the murder weapon at the scene, usually right on top of the victim. Our most recent victim was a drug dealer stabbed with the same type of knife, and the knife was left at the scene.”
“Really?” replies Garcia. “I’ve never heard of anything like that before.”
“Nope, quite unusual.”
“Haven’t you been able to get prints or DNA off the knives?” asks Garcia.
“Nothing. The knives have always come back clean. No prints, DNA, nothing.”
“Hmmm, do we have anything to go on?”
“Not really,” answers Ricci. “My guess it has something to do with the drug wars over territory. We did get a report of a suspicious person near the scene of one of the homicides two years ago, but nothing panned out. Someone saw a male wearing a dark windbreaker, dark pants, full black beard, and dark-rimmed glasses. Oh, and he was supposedly wearing a flat beret style hat and walked with a limp.”
“Well, that’s something to go on. What race?”
“In this area? Most likely black, but the witness couldn’t tell in the darkness,” says Ricci. “Besides, we have no idea whether this unknown person has anything to do with this case.”
“What about fingerprints?”
“Nope, nothing. Scene is always clean, with the exception of the murder weapon being left behind.”
“What was
