The back door to the deck was locked and there was no evidence of criminality in the least. So where was this old man? I radioed headquarters to notify them the house was secure and I would be checking with a neighbor.
I walked across the side yard to the nearest neighbor’s house while motioning to the ice cream truck driver, who was passing by, to wait for me. I rang the doorbell. A young boy no more than ten years of age, answered the door. He looked up at me, turned and ran, yelling for his mother.
This was not the usual response I got when I rang a doorbell but maybe the kid just threw a rock at a car and was feeling a little guilty. A tall attractive woman in a tennis outfit came to the door. Before she could say anything, I introduced myself as Officer Longo and inquired about the elderly man who lived next door. The woman stated her name as Lisa and said she hadn’t seen Mr. Douglas in a few weeks. Lisa offered me a cold drink if I would like to come in, but I politely refused. I asked if Mr. Douglas had any family or friends who visited and was told that she had never seen anyone next door except Mr. Douglas and his ten or more cats. Lisa informed me that she hadn’t seen the cats around the neighborhood in a while.
Before I left, she confided to me that Mr. Douglas wasn’t a very nice man and yelled at her son if he was playing too close to his yard. I thanked Lisa for her time and she once again offered that drink, this time with a smile. Knowing I might be in for a real dilemma with this old man, I accepted Lisa’s offer. If Mr. Douglas was dead as I suspected, then it could wait a few more minutes, especially since I could use a cold drink.
I entered the kitchen with Lisa, but as we rounded the corner, she pulled me into a hallway powder room. She quickly sat on her toilet and unzipped my blue pants. There was no time for all my clothes to come off. Before I was even hard she took all of me in her mouth. I had to hold myself up on the bathroom vanity as Lisa stood, pulling up her white skirt. She wasn’t wearing any panties. Her privates were completely shaved. My entry was rock hard and smooth. My excitement was overshadowed by my anxiety about not wearing a condom. I didn’t even know this woman. “Matt, what are you doing?” My father always told me to wear a “head gasket.” If this ever got out I would be fired or worse if I discovered little red bumps on my Italian pepper. Those bumps stay for life. On top of this situation, I could hear Lisa’s son calling his mother’s name in the kitchen. I couldn’t believe I was screwing this dime piece with her child right outside the bathroom door. What the hell was wrong with me? Talk about being scarred for life.
Lisa reached back with her hand, pushing me deeper inside her while calmly telling her son to play the Nintendo in the living room. I sensed the end was coming and pulled out, only to the amazement of Lisa taking care of any mess, including the last drop. She checked the hallway and whisked me towards the front door, escaping the view of her son who was intently playing a video game. She quickly wrote her number on a napkin and shoved it into my back pants pocket, closing the door behind me. My exit left me extremely satisfied and wondering what the hell just happened. Hopefully this would be something I remembered forever and could laugh about without it becoming a complicated issue. I was surprised to see the ice cream driver waiting for me. I was busted for sure. He drove away with a smile, surmising what just happened in the last few minutes.
I contacted headquarters, purposefully leaving out the quickie, and was told to gain entry into the house with as minimal damage as possible. All the other sector cars were tied up eating dinner; since this call was not high priority, I was left to handle it solo.
The back door was solid wood with several small glass panels that would easily break. I chose the glass closest to the lock and used my expandable baton to smash through. The shattered glass fell mostly to the inside with some residual shards landing at my boots. I unlocked the door. As soon as I pushed it open, four cats raced past my feet. The cats looked mangy and emaciated. I reluctantly entered the kitchen area, and I was struck with an odor I wished I never knew. Mr. Douglas was dead for sure, but where was his body? If he died a month ago, then I was in for a freak show.
As I walked through the dining room toward the living room, more cats appeared. There was something different about these felines. They looked like wild cats roaming the savannah in search of prey.
And then I saw why.
The living room was laden with cats. Some were dead, already stiff on the sofa. The beige carpet was covered in cat shit. The smell was so potent it could have cut through metal. But even that unbearable stench was no contender against the decaying, torn-apart corpse sprawled naked on the floor, over which crawled a dozen blood-thirsty cats.
Mr. Douglas lay on his back with his mouth wide open. Clearly he had been dead for weeks. One very plump cat slept inside Mr. Douglas’ torso. The cat awakened and stretched lazily while pushing on Mr. Douglas’s pelvic bone. There was no stomach, liver, or intestines, just a dark, hollowed-out space where his critical organs should have been. The flesh on his ribs had been chewed away, leaving a gnawed ribcage. His legs and groin were shredded.
There was no blood. Not anywhere. This evil hoard of vampire cats consumed every drop. Yet his blackened face remained untouched. Why didn’t they eat his eyes, lips, or cheeks? Because they loved him, and couldn’t look into his eyes while they feasted on him? One of them walked by his head and licked his cheek. Of course they left his face for me. These little bastards knew I would be the one to inherit this disaster.
All I required at this moment was a twenty-two caliber rifle and thirteen hollow point forty grain varmint rounds. My .40 caliber pistol would make their death too easy. I only hoped that the old man was dead before they started pulling his flesh off his bones. I wondered if the outcome for Mr. Douglas would have been different if they were dogs. A man’s best friend is unable to devour his master, right? The dog would bark until someone finally called the police.
A white bath towel lay on the floor in the hallway adjacent to the living room, about fifteen feet from where Mr. Douglas was spending his time these days. Could these cats have killed Mr. Douglas? From the lack of blood at the scene, this was highly unlikely. I wanted to gag, but I refused the urge and drove it away from the forefront of my mind. I radioed headquarters and alerted them of Mr. Douglas’ death. The local humane society was also notified regarding the flesh eating, organ dining, and male-reproductive-removing felines. I scared away the cats that lingered near the body, hoping to get one last lick of rotten flesh.
I couldn’t believe I went from having sex with a beautiful woman—a cougar of sorts—to a scene out of an Alfred Hitchcock movie. Thinking about it made me laugh out loud. “I have to thank Mr. Douglas for hooking me up.”
Headquarters advised that the Medical Examiner was en route to take possession of Mr. Douglas. Maybe this scene would loosen up Dr. Scavone and his lackey, Michael.
A few hours painstakingly passed by before the medical examiner arrived. Dr. Scavone had on his typical attire: black turtleneck, black pants, and Spock-ears. He was alone and I immediately started picking at him because I was annoyed at his tardiness. “Doc, is it safe to say this is your first death by cat?”
Surprisingly, the doctor angrily snapped, “You shouldn’t make jokes about the dead.”
“And why is that?”
“Bad karma.”
“Hey Doc, take your karma and shove it up your ass sideways, you fucking pathetic piece of shit. You took your sweet ass time coming here, you fucking asshole. You miserable mother fucker! I bet you’re going to fuck what is left of this dead body when you get back to your office!”
I found myself becoming increasingly agitated and the profanity that exited my mouth was unlike anything I had said in a long time. This egotistical asshole deserved all the banter coming his way. We ended the conversation with an understanding of dislike for each other, to say the least. This jackass always showed up late and never once said hello. So, fuck him and the hearse he rode in on.
Upon his departure, with Mr
. Douglas in tow, I contacted headquarters to notify a supervisor of my verbal altercation with the doctor. Capt. Grassio was working late, and I was ordered to respond to his office immediately. I guess the good doctor worked a cell phone faster than me.
A feeling of dread surrounded me as I drove north towards headquarters. I knew I was in deep shit. The Captain never saw anyone unless they were in trouble. As I pulled into the rear parking lot, I saw that his office light was on. What was he doing here at ten o’clock on a Saturday night?
I entered through the back door and heard someone screaming, “He is my officer, doctor. If you have a problem, call me, not the chief. I run this department, not him. Leave the chief alone!”
At this point I knew what I was here for and my stomach did too. I was more nervous at what would happen in the next five minutes than I was at the Douglas house of horror.
“Is that you, Longo? Get in here, now!” The Captain was standing when I entered his office and his face was bright red. “So, Matt, tell me what happened with Dr. Scavone,” he requested, as he rested calmly back into his chair.
“Sure, Captain. Dr. Scavone took almost four hours to arrive at the scene. I cracked a joke upon his arrival. He took offense to it, and I flipped my lid on him. I was all alone in this disgusting house with no assistance. There were cats everywhere tugging on Mr. Douglas’ insides. I was freaked out. I am sorry for causing you any trouble, Captain, and can understand why you’re upset at me.”
Captain Grassio took an exaggerated deep breath and looked directly into my eyes. “You think I am mad at you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Matt, I could not be happier you told that piece of shit to go fuck himself. I am ecstatic. I knew you were a no bullshit cop. Good for you. Dr. Scavone is a miserable son of a bitch who doesn’t mean shit to me or this department. His job is to examine bodies, perform autopsies, and render opinions. Do you want to know what I think of his opinions?”
“Sure, Captain.”
“They suck.” He jumped out of his chair, his cheeks growing redder by the second. “Let me tell you something about Dr. Scavone. That jerk-off has been our medical examiner for twenty years and he hasn’t changed a bit in all that time. This same situation happened with me when I first got hired. He was at one of my first suicides. Dr. Know Nothing shows up fresh out of medical school and starts belittling me; asks me to assist him in moving the body to the gurney. I am okay with that. It’s part of the job. He then asks me to clean up the scene with solutions and towels. I told him to go fuck himself. But what you did tonight was classic. You did me a favor letting that guy know where he stands. Your assumptions are spot on; he is always late and never says anything. So I am not mad at you at all. I am happy that you’re not like these pansies I have walking these hallways that would have caved and kissed his ass. You are going places, Matt. How does crime scene school sound?”
I looked up at the Captain and smiled from ear to ear. “It sounds awesome.”
If he only knew what I did tonight, his remarks may not have been so rewarding. Or maybe in his twisted mind he would have appreciated the porno story in ways I couldn’t imagine. It really was the stuff of fiction, and I didn’t think anyone would believe me, especially Franny. He would have been knocking on Lisa’s door the next day for graphic details.
My little brother is such a psycho. Just like me, but different. At least this dream had something beside a horrible death. Maybe I am making progress.
Chapter Nine: Check-up
August 25, 2007
I awaken, finding myself soaked in sweat. Had my dream made me wet, or did my fever break? As I exit my bedroom, the apartment seems cleaner than I remember and the sink is empty. I find a note on my kitchen table from Carmen Sanchez, my cleaning lady. The little smiley face she draws is so cute. That explains the pills by my bed. She must have cleaned up while I was passed out. I forgot it was Saturday. The place smells fruity, and I love that my bathroom is scrubbed. The thing about Carmen is she is a little older than me and sexier than most. Every time she is over she flirts with me non-stop. She is from Brazil, and when she talks to me in her native Portuguese, I get turned on almost instantly. I have no idea what she is saying but her voice makes me hard. Her cleaning skills are average, but I don’t want to fuck up our arrangement by hitting on her. She has long brown hair that reaches the top of her ass. Her body is fit and tight.
She has been cleaning my mother’s house for the last decade. Way back, my mother told Franny and me she was off limits. About five years ago, when I was still living at home, Carmen caught me watching porn and laughed the entire time she was there. I was so embarrassed that I never even told Franny. I was shocked she didn’t tell my mother. Maybe I should try to hook up with her next time she’s over.
I can’t believe it’s almost night again. Every day seems to blur into the next. The moon is full as I look out my front window wondering if my shooter is nearby. Cars buzz by and people walk the sidewalks heading to their favorite destinations. Hutchville is pumping tonight. Live music plays from O’Neil’s Pub down the street. The streetlights light up Forest Avenue like a Christmas tree. It is a Saturday night and I have no one to spend it with. I am lonely and thinking about my ex, who shall remain nameless. I long for the company of a woman and really need friendship and support right now.
There is nothing good about my current situation. Thinking about all this death is troublesome, especially since these are events I never thought about while I was working. Maybe the Captain is right and I should sit down with Dr. Hamburger, or whatever his name is. I never thought I would need to talk to a shrink. There must be some reason I have been thinking about these dead strangers. I never knew them personally when they were alive. I pick up my cell and dial Captain Grassio at his house. He answers immediately. “Captain, I am fine but I think I need Dr. Berger’s number. I never thought I would need to talk but I think it’s something I should do for my well-being.”
“Matt, it takes a strong person to admit they need to talk things over. You have been through a lot here in a short amount of time. Nobody will judge you for it because it’s your business. I am the only one who needs to know, and that information stops with me. The Chief won’t even know, although he sees Dr. Berger every week since his wife passed away.”
I feel better upon hearing the dirt on the Chief. I wonder if the Chief ever asks the doctor if he craps himself. That has to be another reason he’s seeking treatment for sure. I thank the Captain and call Dr. Berger’s office just to leave a message in hopes I can sit down with him on Monday morning. The phone rings once and a strange voice picks up with a strong accent. “This is Dr. Berger.”
I find myself stuttering, not expecting to have an actual conversation, “Hello, Doctor, this is Matt Longo, I am a detective with Hutchville.”
“Yes, Detective, I have heard of you. How can I help you?”
“I was wondering if I could make an appointment to meet with you this week to discuss a few problems I am experiencing.”
“Are you free right now?”
I am stunned and nervous at the same time. “Sure, Doctor. Where would you like to meet?”
“How does my office suit you? It’s at 275 Hutchville Road. Use the side door on the left and be careful. The light isn’t working over the entrance.”
“Thank you, I am heading your way.” The phone call ends, and I find myself anxious about meeting Dr. Berger. I didn’t realize that I would be sitting down with him tonight. Don’t I need to rehearse or something? Fuck, I am really nervous. But I am ready to do whatever it takes to make myself better. These dreams have haunted me for too long. Maybe the doctor performs hypnosis and can help me remember more details about the bastard who shot me. I throw on a black tee and cargo shorts, and pull my Yankees cap tight over my eyes. My Glock is planted nicely in the small of my back in case I need to exterminate something or someone.
The ride to Dr. Berger’s isn’t too long. Doesn’t matter.
There is nothing more fun than driving my Wrangler at night with the top down. I have to keep catching myself from staring at the stars trying to find Orion’s belt in the clear nighttime sky. It has been a while since I have seen so many stars. It’s humid but I love the feeling of the warm wind rolling off the top of my head. Hutchville is full of people tonight. I can hear the sounds of children placing their ice cream orders over at Sonny’s Shack. They have the best pistachio ice cream around. I really love this town and would do anything to protect these people from harm. Even though I have been out of work since my shooting, I can’t help scanning the sidewalks for a dirt bag. It happens all the time. Some bozo gets off the train drunk and wanders his way along the boulevard urinating every fifty yards. But tonight is different. I am doing something for myself. It has been a while since I took a deep look at my situation.
I find Dr. Berger’s house and remember being there early on in my career for something. I think it was a burglar alarm call with an open back door. I had to check the interior alone because I was the only car in service. That is one of the worst situations you can find yourself in. Also, the homeowner will discover from their alarm company that an officer checked their premises. They can accuse you of stealing anything if they want to, especially if you have no one to back you up. That has never happened to me, and I have checked hundreds of homes in my career, but it’s always a concern.
I take my flashlight from under my seat and head down the left side walkway towards a dark entrance. My flashlight illuminates several pieces of artwork on the exterior of the home and sculptures depicting all kinds of animals you would find roaming the African plains. Next to the doorway is a large stone lion. These pieces must have cost a fortune.
In A Small Town (A Small Town Series Book 1) Page 6
