Portland, Oregon
I didn’t know what was going on. I was enjoying the silence of my living room, sipping my morning Bloody-Mary and peaking drowsily at the neighbors through my window. I had woken up after a dreamless sleep feeling groggy and discombobulated. My breath smelled of nausea, my hair was in clumps of sweat, and I could swear that someone was tugging furiously at the edge of my eyelashes. To add to that, my head was throbbing, I had grime under my fingernails, and my clothes- now two sizes too big- drooped off my shoulders and hung warningly at my hips.
My thoughts buzzed. I hated to snoop, but this was just too interesting. It appeared that my neighbor, Mrs.Vocatison, had gotten herself into a little trouble. She stood in front of her house, arms waving over her head crazily. For a moment I felt like one of those bystanders that witnessed people walking into spider webs no one else could see. She was yelling, screaming even. Her voice was only slightly muffled in the thick glass that I sat in front of.
It bugged me because it seemed she was yelling at empty space. No one was in front of her that I could see and I rubbed my eyes annoyed… nothing. In place of whomever her yelling was directed too was a blurry streak. I sighed out exhaustion when I saw that it was the silk luminescent curtains and almost slapped myself upside the head. My hand reached forward straining as far as it could so that my butt could keep its comfortable seat on the couch as I swung the curtain over to the side.
A yawn that I had been suppressing escaped and then stuck in my throat when my perception switched to the person at my window. I began coughing and heaving at the same time, not remembering which I needed more and hit my chest roughly with my fist. I laughed sadly at myself and took a hearty swig of my drink. A doctor usually would have known to calm down so that the lungs could receive air. My logical self scolded me. Then my critical self pushed the other aside, assuring me that it was the view ahead that had caused it, not my lack of priority.
I looked up slowly at the policeman and set my drink to one side, almost raising my arms above my head before I realized that might look suspicious. He pointed towards the door and I got up, walking as straight as I could and unlatching an unnecessary amount of deadbolts. He pushed the door open before my hand grasped the knob and I stumbled back a little almost tripping over my retarded cat.
“Do you have a search warrant?” I said a little too quickly. I gave myself a nice hard mental slap. That’s not supposed to be the first thing you say to a policeman when they came to your door, but I’m quite paranoid. He smiled brightly apparently noticing my self-abuse. His smile made my knees melt. I gripped the frame of the door tightly and motioned for him to come in. He stepped inside and to my surprise, plopped on my couch and spread his legs comfortably like a husband might do when he came home from work. I gave him what I hoped was a questioning look, though it felt more like an intrigued one.
I felt his eyes look me up and down and I turned away. I most certainly wasn’t dressed for company, let alone this stud in uniform. He realized my discomfort and gave a cough.
“Miss Kasey?” Oh God, he called me miss. I nodded and sat across from him setting my hands on my lap and crossing my legs. Not that this helped my appearance at all. I’m sure that my usual fire-edged hair had taken on a dusty crimped look and that the curls from the other night had been smoldered by my pillow. I’m sure that eyeliner I’d forgotten to wash off was smeared from my cheeks to the bridge of my nose. My lips were probably swollen and chapped. I wasn’t wearing a bra for God’s sake. And how long could my pants stay around my waist?
He stared at me as I contemplated these things and I had to look back his way so that he would continue. “I don’t know how to tell you this_”
“Slowly.” I interrupted. I cocked my eyebrow at my own comment and then shook it off.
“Miss Kasey, your neighbor, Mr. Swanson, died last night.” I let the news linger dangerously in the air for a while contemplating my reaction. Mr. Swanson. Mr. Swanson? Who the hell was Mr. Swanson?
“Oh no.” I said slowly. “What ever happened to him?” A Disney reaction to a death but what did it matter?
“He…er…well we’re not so sure yet. We think he might have been attacked by an animal, but the bite marks are indistinguishable. He was ripped limb from limb and covered in blood and saliva. We found him in the dumpster on the corner of your street… sorry for the gruesome detail Miss Kasey, you must be torn to pieces.” Was that a pun? I placed my fingers to my temples and tried to think of something reassuring, a prayer, or something. All that I could think about was the crazy psycho killer that was probably still lurking around my street as these policeman broke the bad news to the whole neighborhood. I looked back up at him.
“Was he mangled?” I asked. The officer blinked obviously taken aback and then recovered with a nod. I looked over at my drink longingly and then got up walking to my bedroom. “Would you mind if I took a look at him, Sir?” I called behind me as I scanned my drawer for a bra. I could tell that he shifted in his seat.
“Wha_ what do you mean look at him? You mean you want to see him?” I looked up from my drawer and threw an annoyed look in his direction.
“No you moron. By look at him I meant sit on my couch and listen to you continue this sad excuse for a comforting conversation.” I muttered. I pulled out the first bra my hands reached and slid it over my head finding a t-shirt and a pair of slacks. By no means did I match, but I was trying to find my means of “play clothes”. The ones that children put on after school to look at dead bodies…well something like that.
“Yes, can I see him? I’m a certified doctor, I’ve seen all sorts of animal attacks and maybe I could tell you what did this to Mr. Samson.”
“Uh, Swanson, Mr. Swanson.” I jammed my legs hurriedly into my pants and cursed to myself.
“Right, sorry. Just a little sudden, you know?” He didn’t know, I knew he didn’t. I was rushing a comb through the naps in my hair when I saw him standing at my doorframe looking generally concerned. I felt violated, how long had he been there just looking at me?
“Hi.” I said sliding between him and the little room he left for me to get into the living room. He moved forward pinning me there for a while as he searched my eyes. I held my breath about ready to kick someone’s ass.
“Are you intoxicated?” He finally asked. I was about to sigh in relief but then thought better of it and gulped instead. I pushed him a little and then walked into the living room.
“No, no, no. Of course not. I just have this throbbing headache, I’m a little off today.” He nodded.
“Well I didn’t come here to comfort you Miss Kasey.” He said sternly. Maybe he thought I hadn’t known this already because he was pretty much the most uncomfortable cop I’d ever been around…and that’s really saying something.
“Oh?” I said instead.
“I actually came here because you’re a suspect. Mr. Swanson had bruises all over his body that look a lot fresher than the bite marks. They were done by a human being.” I frowned.
“And you think that I did it?” He smirked.
“Well, you didn’t exactly look your best this morning Miss Kasey.” I gaped at him.
“Is that a crime?” He looked over his shoulder as if he was teasing me in front of his cronies.
“Come on Miss Kasey. You’re face is pale, you’re pupils are dilated, and I can smell the alcohol on your breath.” Damn it. I blame all those friends out there that get you drunk to celebrate every promotion and then drop you back off at home.
“I was drinking last night, last time I checked that wasn’t a crime either.” He still didn’t seem convinced.
“You’re going to need to come with me Miss Kasey.” I shrugged.
“I have a lawyer. Does my being a suspect mean that I can’t look at the body? I’m pretty sure I’d be able to distinguish the wounds.” He was thinking it over carefully.
“You’d be under severe watch.” I nodded. Obviously if I was a suspect of killing the guy I was under severe watch. Was Mrs. Vocatison a suspect as well?
“That’s alright with me. Can we go now?” I asked snapping a pair of gloves to my wrist and grabbing my lab coat. Hey eyed my badge for a moment and I realized that I hadn’t seen his yet. I smirked for a second watching his nervous movements as he noticed his mistake.
“My badge.” He coughed and ran his hands over his chest searching for the bump it would make. Then he dug into his pocket and pulled out a shining gold badge with a complimenting gum-wrapper attached. I laughed a little as he shoved it quickly back into his pocket and swung open my door. He waited until I was out first and then walked closely behind me. I could feel his breath on the back of my neck and shuddered. Suddenly I wanted to look at that badge again. Maybe he wasn’t who he said he was, he wasn’t treating me like I thought a cop was to treat a suspect. I kept my eyes forward.
I walked along the sidewalk remembering something about the dumpster on the corner of the street. I came to the corner and the cop grabbed my hand and spun me around. I retched my hand from his grasp and backed away a step before he grabbed me again.
“What’s your problem?” I asked. His jaw tightened and he looked over my shoulder.
“You’re to look at the body, and then come with me.” A little forward. I cocked my eyebrow at him and he shook his head. “You know what I mean Miss Kasey.”
“Yes, I do. Now, the body please?” He bit his lip and steered me to the crowd of flashing cameras and news broadcasters. Long yellow tape stretched around the crime-scene and I was led under it where FBI agents were tracing the body with chalk.
Any other person would have puked. I however, was completely interested. My headache began to subside and I ran over to the body as the cop shooed away the other agents. I was allowed to free-search.
The cop had been right, Mr. Swanson was beaten before the…whatever it was, attacked him. I lifted the old mans arms carefully, searching the dark purple bruise under his arm. It was human made, as was the bruise on his eye, his chest, in between his legs and around his kneecaps. His right leg was twisted behind his back. I looked at the dumpster and saw the blood splattered there on the wall, then I flipped the man around. I pressed firmly down his spine and felt the bones shift. It was broken. I guessed he was thrown against the wall…but by what? Not a human by any means, he was a fairly hefty man.
I turned him back around and lifted his eyelids with difficulty. This man was quite literally one huge bruise. His pupils were clouded in thick dark blood and I looked at his neck. It was dark in bruises, finger-shaped bruises, he was strangled…or hung? I looked around at my surroundings. I didn’t see anything that he could have been hung from, and the cop said they found him in the dumpster. Then why was he on the ground and why were they tracing his body here if they didn’t find him here. I motioned for the cop to come beside me and voiced my complaints. I may only be a doctor, but I watch enough Law and Order to understand that something was wrong here.
“What makes you think that he was thrown against the wall?” I squinted at him wondering if he had heard my question at all.
“His spine, is cracked. And the blood on that wall came from somewhere. He has no major possible human wounds except for that. I don’t know what animal could have thrown him against a wall. I do know that whatever started to devour him, did it after he was already dead. The spinal injury killed him.” The cop nodded and turned my attention back to the body.
His eyes…could he have been hung? It seemed like the best possible answer. Beaten, unclothed, strangled, thrown against a wall…eaten in the dumpster by some vicious animal? The chunks missing out of him were insane, mostly out of his middle.
I bit my lip and slid the glove from my fingers puncturing into a wound at his neck. The blood was warm, his face was freezing. I sighed and pulled my fingers from the wound lathering it before my eyes and noticing the small clumps there. He was strangled, no doubt about that. I brought the contents close to my nose and sniffed. It was old, tinged, pungent, vile, infected with germs from the trash. This man had been here for much longer than a day.
I forced the blood to my lips and closed my eyes as I tasted it with my tongue lightly. Yes, much older than expected. He was here for at least a week or two. I took another taste, unable to control the urge. Soft and moist, it tunneled through my nostrils and stung the back of my throat. The cop jerked my shoulder and I came to my senses as my stomach gave a revolting jolt. I attempted to puke but then covered my mouth and swallowed what was coming up there. He patted me on the back roughly.
“What the hell is wrong with you, lady! This is a crime scene!” I nodded and then rushed myself under the tape and into the backseat of what I hoped was his car, slamming the door after me. He ran over and jumped into the front seat, looking back and then shaking his head.
“You okay?” I was sickened by his concern for me and placed my fingers warningly over my lips. He frowned and started the engine. “You okay?” he asked again as we drove away from the site and onto the freeway. I didn’t know what to say to him. Was I okay? I wiped my lips furiously and then pressed my cheek to the cold windows of his car.
“I need a bucket.” I murmured after a while.
