A story

musicankane

I blew a monkey once.
Joined
Dec 30, 2004
Posts
15,638
The funny thing about murder scenes was that no more how many you've seen, you never get used to the smell or the sight of blood. The only thing that helpped was the fact that this murder happened to be outside. While the blood was still there, the sea breeze blowing into the cove cleared out the smell. As with most murders, there were questions, who were the murdered? Why were they murdered? How were they murdered?

And most importantly...Who killed them?

My job is to find that out. I'm Jack Sanders, formerly LAPD homicide, now living out on Long Island; more specifically Suffern, New York. No I'm not retired, I'm living off my disability pension. I nailed three-quarter disability for life, which at thirty something was jackpot. Before anybody starts offering a pat on the back, I should inform you that I only got the pension because some friendly neighborhood black guys were kind enough to put four bullets into me. But that's another tale.

Now there's another question, why was I at a murder scene?

To answer that I should tell you that those other questions, I already know the answer to two...maybe three of those. Not the important one.

The couple laying on this beautiful oak deck were the Johnsons. Larry, and Sarah a young and very beautiful couple. Friends I had made since I moved out here in early June. They had been interested in having a cop in the neighborhood and introduced themselves the day my moving truck pulled up into the driveway. That covered the who.

The how, was easy and probably had something to do with the twin bullet holes in the side of their heads and their brains all over the dock.

Suffolk county police chief Henry Tyler came up and nudges me with an elbow. I must have been looking down at the scene in a daze because he asked. "You ok?"

Henry had been a friend of mine for years, we were partners from the day I started the LAPD and he retired five years after that only to move out here and sign on with the PD in the small town on the north fork of Long Island. I don't know if it had anything to do with me moving out here when I was ready to leave the PD...actually I was never ready to leave, four bullets decided that for me.

I blinked and looked at him standing on my right side. We were standing at the top of the padio looking down on the scene of the crime. From here I could see the entire length of the dock, all the way to the water. It was such a lovely evening, the birds, the breeze, the soft lapping of the waves against the dock. Then the was the bodies of new-found friends of mine.

"Tell me why I'm here again." I asked Henry.

"A favor to me. And you're the only Homicide guy I trust." He answered.

"I'm not Homicide anymore."

"A favor then."

"Right. You can buy the beer later." I said stepping off the padio and began a slow walk to get a close look.


(Open to anybody so long as EVERYONE posts from the viewpoint of Jack.)
 
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