by Brian Cotton
***
The bodies of the dead Agents lay on the near rotten floors for Sullivan’s visual delight. The coroner bumped into him from behind with the black bags. The Agent with the broken nose sat on the couch where the leftover’s body had been. He held a handful of gauze over the nose, the blood still leaked through. Somebody had some fun, all right.
“Did you see anything?” Sullivan asked while he approached the Agent.
“Yeah,” he replied. “There was this guy. Pretty tall, I suppose, looked like he could handle himself in a fight.”
“Did he look like he knew her?”
“She was probably his mother. He must’ve lived here, too. One of the bedrooms is full of men’s clothing and shit.”
Son of a bitch, Sullivan thought. He cursed himself for leaving the scene and leaving the cleanup to these neophytes.
“Did he do all of this?” Sullivan demanded.
“No,” the Agent replied. He pulled back the gauze for a moment and the blood flowed still. He replaced the gauze and squeezed at his nose. “There was this…woman, I think. She did the shooting, sir.”
“You think it was a woman?”
“This person sure as hell didn’t have a typical male body if it was a he.”
“Describe this person.”
“About five seven, maybe eight. She wore a black jacket, dark jeans. She had on this black helmet with a tinted visor, so I can’t tell you what she looks like or nothin’.”
“And ‘she’ did all of this?” Sullivan asked to reiterate.
“That’s right, sir.”
“No backup or anything?”
“No, sir. She moved so fast. I didn’t even see the blow comin’ that knocked my ass out.”
“Tell me more about the man that was here. Did he say anything? Do anything?”
“He just stayed on his knees. Held his hands straight up in the air like a good citizen.”
“Describe him for me a little more.” Sullivan said.
“I don’t know, man. Details are still a bit hazy. Sandy blonde hair, buzzed. Scruff on his face. Blue eyes.”
“Is that all you have for me?”
“That’s it,” the Agent replied. “I was knocked out when that girl had her fun. I didn’t see the shootin’ take place.”
“All right. Get yourself to the hospital and get that nose cleaned up.”
“Thank you, sir.”
The Agent stood and saluted Sullivan with his free hand before he walked out. Pointless, Sullivan thought. He heard the Agent slam his fist into the doorway before he walked out. Sullivan shook his head and walked towards the back. Inside what was presumed now to be the leftover’s son’s old bedroom stood Mason and Wilcox. They already started ripping the place to pieces.
“You find anything in here?” Sullivan asked.
“No, we haven’t,” Mason replied. “Clever asshole didn’t leave a shred of anything.”
“That’s just lovely. Let me know if you find anything.”
Wilcox folded his arms across his chest, “That pussy with the broken nose, he have anything useful?”
“No.”
“That’s just great detective work, Sully.” Mason replied.
“Just keep on doing what you’re doing. Let me know if you find anything. If there is anything to find.”
Another dead end.