The crowd that started to roam near the crime scene were being held back by yellow, do not cross lines, and uniforms. The talk that was hitting the gay community started to make waves in social media and on radio stations across the nation. It had to start somewhere and the lead detective did not mind it at all. If more ears were listening against the wall, then someone might hear something that could help.
The alley way had no windows, just worn brick and cinder-block patches where windows had once been and most of them were stained with urine and grime. The entrance to the alley way was thin and lined with trash cans and dirty recycle bins that were never used for recycling. The walls were covered with obscenities which were then covered with low grade paint several times, but the obscenities bled through. All the paint did was showcase the expletive, and of course never matched the color of the bricks or cinder-blocks. In other words, they should have just left the fuck words alone.
The only thing that worked properly in that alley way was the transfer shovel used in killing the young gay man and a neon sign above the roof line that advertised a summer alcoholic beverage. Sadly, the neon sign across from the alley way was suppose to advertise drug abuse treatment, but that sign buzzed noisily and worked sporadically.
The lead detective looked at the crowd wondering if anyone there knew the murdered young man. He scanned the crowd stopping at difference faces every now and again. He stopped at a priest who was standing near the cement steps that led into the first section of row-houses. The priest focused bleary eyes back at the detective. The priest's eyelids were saggy and webbed beyond their years. He looked much older than he really was. His cheeks were rough and covered in tiny holes or very large pores. His face was sallow and colorless as if he suffered anguish. In fact it was a pathetic face.
The lead detective smiled and the priest smiled back, revealing missing front teeth and gums that look like it had a long loving romantic relationship with gingivitis. The lead detective didn't want to just stare so he looked beyond the priest as though he was expecting an entourage of angels.
The lead detective was wondering if he should allow the priest through to administer last rites, or say something preachy. Truth be told Detective Nathan Chambers have never stepped into a church since his high school.
The lead detective called to one of the uniforms and one with a football player's build walked over quickly.
“You see that priest over there,” he pointed into the crowd.
The uniform had a difficult time picking out the priest due to the moving crowd, but he did. “Yes, I see him.”
“Do me a favor, tell him I'd like to see him.”
The uniform looked confused.
“Last rites,” the lead detective offered an explanation and the uniform nodded.
When the uniform ducked under the yellow tape to go into the crowd, he didn't politely say excuse me as he shouldered his way between people who didn't move aside. He was acting tough enough to make a statement but not being so aggressive that would land him in the hot chair. He finally made it out of the crowd with only a mustered slur directed toward him and his mother.
Once he was in the clear, it took several moments for his eyes to adjust. Waves of shadows still blurred his vision.
He looked around toward the cement steps, but the priest was no longer there. He then slowly scanned the area and still nothing. He looked across the street and down the road, but there was no priest in sight.
“What the fuck...?”
The uniform looked back toward the crime scene and shrugged his shoulders. The lead detective understood the shrug and copied.
The medical examiner walked out toward the lead detective and touched his arm. He looked back at her and smiled.
“I'm all set here,: she said. “I'll let your department know whatever I find Nathan.”
He nodded with a confused look.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, yeah..” he replied.
He slowly walked away from the doctor thinking out loud. “Why would a priest run when he knew I wanted to speak to him?”
If You Missed Part One, check it out here
- The wastefulness of creation
With that, he walked toward the crumbled body like a silent shadow on the wall. He hesitated when he reached the body and saw that it was a young, thin girl. She was strangled and her neck popped instantly. He could tell because of the bones sticking
© 2018 Frank Atanacio