One
2.31AM
Downtown Precinct

God it was loud, the incessant repetitive dring dring of the phones was making it impossible for me to catch a nap, that and the constant slurping, spitting, coughing and chewing of the other detectives. I wish they would keep it down, can’t they see I’m trying to sleep here?
“Wakey wakey Rich” Jimmy Garfield whispers into my ear as he walks passed my desk, rousing me from my near slumber.
“What the fu…” I mumble as I strain to prize open my tired eyes. The rotation to the night shift was still playing havoc with my body clock. I watch as Jimmy takes his usual seat at the desk opposite mine and start reading the sports section of yesterday’s paper.
A take a small sip of the drink that masquerades as coffee and look round at the cities finest who all appear determined to keep me awake. There was Ed Brown, red faced with the usual torrent of sweat pouring off his oversized head shouting abuse into the mouthpiece of the phone, probably his wife I guess. The bulbous purple veins in his temples were fit to burst as he paced round his desk with phone receiver nestled under his flabby chin while his arms flapped around like those of a rabid bird. That was one fine example of the joy of marriage, rather him than me that’s for sure.
Next to him was the Kid, Frank Carter, looking lost as usual. He was two months into this detail but I could tell that he weren’t no murder police. I give him six months before he gets shipped back to uniform. I can always tell, the kids nice, but he’s green, too green.
The next desk belonged to Roger Nolan, the granddad of the unit who unlike me was fast asleep and oblivious to the chaos of the squad room. My eyes linger on him from a while, his breathing shallow, arms sprawled out on the desk and a wry smile on his craggy face, at least someone was happy.
Roger’s partner Luke Rowe sat opposite him slowly tapping away with his one-finger typing style. Luke always was one for office work, well I don’t blame him if I managed to cop as many easy cases as those two I could quite happily spend my time behind a desk. Those two seem to have a knack for catching all the domestics, all they have to do is turn up at the scene with handcuffs and that’s another case down, that’s probably why Nolan’s asleep, safe in the knowledge that he’s got best clearance rate in the house.
I turn my head away from them but can still hear the one fingered typing the constant tap tap tap. I still find it hard to believe that with a city with over 250 murders a year and here we are in the digital age with only typewriters for company, jeez I’m just thankful that the city can afford pencils
The shift supervisor Larry Ford is in his office with Ike Pres and David Sudlow, the blinds drawn but from what I can hear I’m glad I’m not in there with them. Sounds like another case has gone to the wall, a witness has flipped and left them both with their balls exposed, with the trial date looming ever closer.
It was only March and the statistics were there for everybody to see 89 bodies so far. The dry erase board in the centre of the squad room listed all the ongoing cases those marked in black denoted closed cases and those in red were open. Every squad sergeant's name was listed in columns on the top. Below their names were the names of the cases which their detectives were investigating, and a letter indicated which detective was the primary on the case. This allowed supervisors to get a quick assessment of how productive each detective and squad were and acted as motivation for detectives, nobody liked red under their name. Me? I had eight so far, all black.
“Lawyer…..Lawyer…..LAWYER.” Comes a repetative shout from new collar in room one. Sounds like Barkley has his hands full on that one and if anyone needs a clearence right now its him. Too many reds by his name, not a place I’d want to be.
I close my eyes again and try and blot out the noise, there’s nothing I can do until I cop a case, but until then I going to try get me some sleep.






Two

The dirty orange rays of the city morning sun creeps through the half closed blinds of the squad room and straight into my unreceptive eyes. I glance up at the cheap kitchen clock that hangs lopsidedly above the board, which shows the time in all its Day-Glo yellow glory. It was Lt’s idea to try and bring a little colour to the room. Like a plastic yellow wall clock with a smiley face on it was going to bring sunshine into my life, fat chance.
6:50am just ten more minutes and I’ll be out of this stink hole for another day and away from the noise. I’ve been here four years now and it still surprises me the noise that fifteen men can generate if put in a room together. When I was a kid my mum, god bless her soul used to tell me that if I did not have anything constructive to say then I should not say anything at all. That was one lesson my fellow detectives could do right by learning.
“Another day another dollar.” Nolan tells the room. It’s always the same, at the end of every shift “another day another dollar.” Don’t get me wrong the fella’s a first class detective but not the kind of guy who you would go for a beer with. I’d be asleep within minutes with the stories he can tell. The man really can take dull to a whole new level. I just hope I’m not the same after spending half my life sitting in the same seat.
I look over at his creased face as he slips on his heavy overcoat and jams another roll up in his small mouth. “That’s all folks.” He announces as he makes he was to the exit. Sometimes I think he just likes the sound of his own voice. It’s his poor wife I feel sorry for having to spend all day listening to one corny phrase after another. It’s more than I could bear.
“Hey Rich, got any fire?” Barkley calls over as he finally throws the disposable lighter that he had been struggling with for the five minutes in the trash.
“Sure” I reply as I toss him a half empty box of matches.
“How’s it going in there?” I ask gesturing to the interview room.
“Shitty.” Comes the anxious reply.
It was then that the phone rang and the whole room just for that minute seemed to go into slow motion. We all knew what it meant. On the other end of that singing phone was a case, another body. We all looked at each other then back to the phone. What a time to catch a case with only five minutes of the shift to go.
“Do ya think that if we leave it ringing one of the morning boys with pick it up?” The kid asked.
“Fat chance kid, this ones on us” Ike replies before burying his head in his latest case file. It was his way of making the room aware that it was somebody else’s turn to pick up the phone.
The unanswered phone seem to get louder, more desperate like it was lonely and was screaming out for some company.
“Will somebody answer that BLOODY PHONE.” Larry screamed from his office. All eyes were back on the phone as nobody dared to move, each man waiting for the next to get it.
“Don’t make me come out there!” Larry warned. I knew from past experience that angering the Lt was not a particularly smart move.
I couldn’t stand it any longer, I had to put the damn phone out of its misery it was like a crying baby calling out to be hugged and by the look in the kid’s eyes there was a chance that he would pick it up and I could not let that happen.
I rose from my chair and casually walked over to the phone. “Gentleman, allow me.” I tell the detectives martyring myself for the greater good, well if I was going to do these sons of bitches a favour a might as well look good doing it.
“Detective Price, whatcha got?” I whisper into the phone using the best Bogart impression that I could muster.




Three


“We have a body.” The throaty voice on the
announces.
“Where? And for crying out loud please don’t tell me its a bloody gang thing.” I spit back. The thought of dealing with another meaningless death has started to offend me. The constant paperwork that’s involved is stupendous, all because one kid shoots another over something that is usually nothing. Why can’t they all get along? Bloody kids with guns, it wasn’t the reason I came to the murder police.
“No it looks like a taxpayer to me. He was fished out for the harbour earlier this morning, by the pier.” Well at least that’s something. It has started to shock me how little I’m I care about dead kids they are nothing but stats on a wall.
“Any obvious signs?” I ask.
“Like what?” The clueless uniform asks me.
“Bullets holes, limbs missing. You know the usual things that determines the homicides from the suicides.”
“Not that I can see.” Comes his gormless reply.
“Alright I’ll be on scene as soon as, could you keep the body untouched and also let the coroner know.”
“Sure thing, see you shortly Detective.”
“Aren’t you the lucky one!” I murmur back.
I gently place the receiver back on the cradle and turn round to face my audience.
“Body?” Jimmy asks but the look on my face already gives him the answer.
“Afraid so partner. I’ll just run it past the Lt, it’s a floater so you might be lucky on this one.”
“I sure would appreciate it Rich. It’s the wife’s birthday today and I don’t think that I would make it through the night if I have to work any OT.”
I smile back at Jimmy, wife’s birthday indeed! That’s the third time in the last six months he’s used that excuse to get out of a case. It’s no big loss. I amble towards the Larry’s office and knock softly at his door.
“What!” He calls out.
I open the door and poke my head round “Boss, I just caught a case, a floater in the harbour, Jimmy’s busy so shall I work this one alone?”
Larry Ford looked back at me for a second and the silence felt threatening as his serious blue eyes gave me the once over.
“Sorry to have to do this to ya Rich. I could try to get the morning boys to take it for you but….”
“Don’t worry Lt I got it.” I cut him off mid sentence.
“You’re the primary and MAKE SURE IT’S A BLACK.” Larry calls out after me as I head out of his office.
Black black black that’s all I hear these days. It’s got to be black. Is it black? How many blacks have you got? You need more black. It used to be about the quality, back when there were squad rooms full of good police, now there’s no time for that. Its all about the numbers if the case is too hard move on to the next one, if that’s too hard move on again until you catch a break. The jobs now more about luck than skill, I sometimes wonder why I do this job at all. I’m sure it’s not to get a black name on the board.
The squad room was nearly empty now as the changeover is in full effect. I look round to find Jimmy and let him know he’s of the hook.
“Jimmy.” I call out.
“He’s gone Rich. The minute you hit the Lt’s office, like a rat out of a drain pipe” Luke calls out without looking up from his typewriter.
No surprise there, I walk over to my desk and snatch the car keys before grabbing my jacket and heading downstairs and towards the next cadaver.









Four


A gentle breeze carries fresh air through the park, past the docks and into the heart of the city breathing life into her concrete form whilst blowing out yesterdays dank stench over the river and out to sea. I love the smell of the city at dawn the air just for a few precious moments tastes clean.
It’s these golden hours that makes me love this great city of mine, before the factories and houses wake up, before the streets become flooded with people, before the hustle and bustle of daily life ruins the silence, right now its just me and her alone and together we’re happy.
I stand by the car and take it all in, the fresh air, the sound of sparrows, the sweet stillness of a sleeping city. I try and hold on to this scene for as long as possible but the body won’t wait too much longer so I open the beaten up squad car door and slide into position, turn over the engine and prepare myself for my ride across town.
It’s a quick ride and before long I spot the harbour, the pier and the two highly visible squad cars that were badly parked by the waters edge. I swing the car into position and look up to the cloudless sky, at least times on our side, there nothing worse than rain spoiling a scene.
I dig deep into the pocket of my long coat and fish round for my badge. “Detective Price.” I announce as I flash the silver and gold badge to the three uniforms blocking my way.
“What have we got here?” I enquire as I approach the body.
“Male, possible suicide” The small mawkish uniform informs me as he sucked on an unfiltered cigarette.
“Is that it? Is that all you’ve deduced so far?” I probe.
“Yes.” He tells me with eyes focused on his shoes.
“Why haven’t you cordoned off the scene?” I ask as I notice the body laying uncovered in front of their cars.
“Well since it was a floater, I figured that this was no crime scene.” The dumb looking uniform informs me.
“Jeez sonny, you gotta lot to learn. It won’t be long before this place will be crawling with workers. Now cordon off the area and find something to cover that body before the coroner gets here, that’s if you called him?”
“He’ll be here soon detective.”
“Well at least you did something right!”
I approach the body and the smell hits me like a sucker punch forcing me to step backwards. It takes a few seconds for me to gain my composure before I bend down to get a better look at the body that laid out on the concrete floor.
The body was bloated and swollen, tongue and eyes projected from their sockets. The first signs of putrefaction was clearly visible as there was a greenish staining on the lower abdomen of the naked corpse, while the legs were a multitude of colours blotchy blues and purples to brown and finally black the further down my eyes travelled. What a mess.
It was difficult to guess the age of the dead man but what was for sure was that he had been in the water a long time, how long? Who knows?
“Who found the body?”
“Local fishermen, they dragged it into the harbour and called us.” The smoking detective explained.
“Well that might explain some of the lacerations on the body. Did you get a statement?”
“Yes…Sir.”
“Where there any clothes or possessions found floating near?” I ask in the slight chance there will be something for me to go on.
“No it was found as is.”
I look down as the corpse as my attention in drawn to the purple marks on its wrists and legs. This was no accident.
“Great, trust me to cop a whodunnit.”

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