“Listen, get dressed, and meet me back at your station in an hour.” She stands and leaves the pool area.
I rise to my feet, and my cell rings. “Lobos, there’s been a body dumped under the Salmon Expressway N 14th ST.”
So much for enjoying Halloween.
“I’ll be right there, sir.” I hang up and rush upstairs to my apartment.
I peel off my Bikini and slip on a pair of black cargo pants and a white tank top along with a black button-down with a Chinese red dragon slithering down the side. After buttoning up my shirt, I slip on my boots. I grab my badge and slip my SIG into my holster. I snatch my keys off the coffee table and throw on my field jacket and dart out the door.
***
I climb out of my car and head across the two-lane street to the construction site where they have a porta-john roped off. I’m not even close to the porta john, and the smell is making bile swirl in the pit of my stomach, triggering my gag reflexes. I slip on a mask to cover my mouth and nose, to mask the rancid odor of death. The victim was likely killed at least twenty four hours ago if decomp is starting to set in. A dead woman in bloodstained military fatigues with an MP patch on her arm. Her throat has been sliced open, and a single GSW to the gut and her holster is empty.
So much for honoring our veterans.
A soldier found dead on the toilet, this case is already becoming ‘unique.’ Her name tag says, Mortimer. A middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair and a short beard walks beside Ingrid. “Detective Lobos, this is Bob Thompson. He is the foreman here at the construction site.”
He nods. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Detective. I saw you on the tube last night. Damn fine work putting that sick sum bitch in the dirt.”
Great another fan that’ll be crushed one day.
“Were you the one who called this in?” I ask, quickly changing the subject.
“Uh, yeah. I swear this town has gone to hell.” This town is already in hell, it’s just sinking to the lower levels.
“How’d you come upon the body, sir?”
He scratches the back of his head. “Well, my workers don’t come back to work till Monday. So I figured I’d come down and check their progress, and that’s when I noticed a god awful odor coming from the shitter. So, I went to check it out… and I found this young lady like this on the toilet. Her throat cut and shot in the stomach.” He shakes his head. “You survive all the shit in war only to come home and be done in by some whack job whose is pissed at the world. I really hope you find the piece of shit who did this.”
“Did you see anybody when you got here? Maybe a suspicious vehicle, anything?”
He shakes his head. “Nope. The area was a ghost town when I got here.”
“Do you have surveillance cameras here, Mr. Thompson?”
“Yeah, but they won’t do ya much good; they don’t face the street.”
A useless surveillance system, just my luck.
“Thank you. We’ll contact you if we have any more questions.”
I head over to the porta-john and notice a note stuck to the inside of the door.
Hello, Detective Lobos. It seems I am ready for round two. I hope you’re up for it as well. I know our governments denied us justice, but not to worry, it won’t happen again.
Our lies always linger on the horizon, like an approaching storm. It’s only a matter of time before we feel the rain. I hear Ingrid talking to me, but I can’t make it out, because I’m too lost in thinking about the approaching storm. I feel her shaking my arm. “Hey, you alright? Are you with me?”
“Yeah, why?”
“You became out of it all of a sudden.”
“I’ve not been sleeping well, sorry.”
“That note, what does it mean? I hope you’re ready for round two. Our governments shall not interfere with our justice again.”
“I’ve no idea.”
I lied, of course. The last thing I want is my fellow cops to see what a lying piece of shit I am. If the truth were to come out, all my past cases would come under scrutiny, and the Mayor would look like a fool singing my praises. No doubt it would come up as ammunition against him when election season starts. However, the Mayor’s already a fool, he doesn’t need my help with that. Although, this would give him tons of ammo to kick me off the force. Never mind the fact it was his and the Chief’s idea to bitch out on the Moonlight Case.
The crime lab geeks show up dawning their white jumpsuits that have hoodies covering up the top of their heads to keep hair from contaminating the crime scene, and face covers to prevent any of their DNA from contaminating the scene. Amber climbs out of the van, wearing the same garb. “Good afternoon, Devi, Ingrid. Interesting, a dead military police officer.”
I nod. “Interesting is one way to put it.”
“Strange. What the hell is a Military Police officer doing off base in uniform? Amber leans in for a closer look.
“Her hands were cuffed. Throat was slashed by a blade with serrated edges, along with a single GSW to the stomach.” Slashed throats, gutshots, and bound hands. This is where I would generally say this was Russian Mafia, but I know it was Drake He’s back. A media shitstorm is on the horizon.
“So who do you think done this, Devi?”
“Russian Mob is the likely suspect here. This is their MO when it comes to punishing snitches, traitors, people who
