With a Tilt of My Hat

by Mary Matuskey

  “How large of an area is marked?” Fike asked.

  “About one hundred yard diameter marked off for now. There are a dozen officers raking that site.”

  “Soft rakes?” Fike asks.

  “Yes, go on in, you’ll understand the meaning of it soon.”

  Detective Jones took the lead as she approached the body first. The medical examiner hovered over the victim’s right side.

  M.E. Mark Franks shifted his body in acknowledgment of each detective. “I have never come in contact with such a disgusting scene as this one that’s spread out before us.”

  “Holy shit guys. What the hell kind of sick bastard did that to him?” Fike shouted, eyeballing the victim’s body. “This mutilated, ah, severed, ah, tortured thing.” Fike lost it for a second, and then regained his composure and observed the body closer. “It repulses me.”

  Jones hadn’t moved from her position, nor had she offered any comments.

  Mark began his assessment observing the body as it lay partially naked in a muck of leaves. The ground was cleared of debris to the right side of the body where it appeared the assailant and victim fought. Two partial shoeprints presented themselves at both sides of the victim, giving the assumption that the assailant had straddled him. A massive amount of blood was seen, which was most likely caused by a sharp object, possibly a hunter’s knife. Deep wounds were shown at his chest and right arm. The arm was cut four inches below the shoulder and the wound continued down the lateral aspect to the wrist. Yellow rope bound both legs and left wrist, pulled taut at his backside. A matted mixture of mud, leaves, and blood were noted at his groin area where the penis had been severed. A large amount of blood spatter was on both thighs.

  His right hand was severed, radius and ulna bones protruding. It appeared to be a heinous act of sexual killing. Fike took note of decomposing tissue with a large colony of red ants covering massive amounts of the body.

  Mark stood, directing his attention to both detectives. The penis and hand were nowhere near the body; an animal might have carried them off into the woods.

  Captain Michaels instructed most of the officers to search the area.

  “All evidence thus far has been photographed. I pronounce the time of death to be thirty-two hours ago, approximately three o’clock Tuesday morning. That’s all I have for now. I’ll begin preparations to move the body to the morgue,” Mark concluded.

  “Thank you, Mark,” said Jones.

  Fike nodded in appreciation to Mark.

  Jones promptly turned to the sound of her name and found she was standing toe-to-toe with Captain Michaels. He was the first officer called to the crime scene.

  “Lovely day, detective Jones,” Michaels remarked sarcastically.

  “Hello, Captain, what are your findings thus far?” She ignored his initial tone of voice.

  “Identification found in the victim’s wallet: a thirty-one year old male, Joseph Crown, Tacoma address, organ donor…well, minus one grand organ.” Michaels chuckled loudly.

  Jones scowled at him, immensely bothered by his continual lack of professionalism with her. He had once provoked her to the point where she submitted documentation of wrongful behavior to the chief of police requesting that Michaels take an early retirement. The chief found no humor in her request. Later reiterating to Jones, “Just deal with it, Michaels has commendations for his outstanding work. All our other officers find Captain Michaels ‘approach in assessing each criminal case to be accurate and forthright. With just a bit of normal humor, but he is always accurate. Furthermore, the chief stated that Captain Michael’s position had only strengthened the team and remember your rank; you are his subordinate.”

  Detective Jones thought, Michaels literally thrives on the theory that criminal behavior is simply “to be no more entrapped with disillusioned pain, than that of a blocked colon needing the release of a good fart.”

  Michaels continued with his briefing. “The Club owner, Jim Clark, came into work this morning about ten. He stated that his club was closed on Wednesdays, no employees around that day, not even himself. He routinely locked up the joint at four a.m. on Tuesday; he did not notice anything out of the norm either. Anyhow, he brought his two German shepherd dogs to work with him to keep him company while he and Frankie prepped the club for the afternoon opening. Frankie is his club manager. He claimed he didn’t see anything wrong. They let the dogs out to take a piss, left the back door ajar so they could nudge it open to get back inside on their own. This usually took about five minutes for the dogs to return.

  “Jim became concerned when the dogs were gone for a longer period of time, which lead him to assume they had encountered a rabbit. But when he commanded them to return and no dogs came back, he ventured into the woods. That’s when he discovered the mutilated body of this man. After he puked, he called 911. M.E. states the dogs nosed up some dirt by the victim’s bare ass, but the body wasn’t violated. Well, that is, not by these dogs.” This ended his report.

  “Got it, thank you,” Jones said in her rude manner.

  “Good work, great report, Captain Michaels, we greatly appreciate you coming out today,” Fike said. “Would you please go back down and see the boys you sent out to search the perimeter? Possibly they have something to report by now.” Michaels and Fike respectfully nodded at one another.

  “Listen, Jones, this case must be exclusive to our ears only, make sure it takes precedence to all the officers who are involved today,” Fike ordered her. “I want this investigation to go swiftly with all the evidence presented to me firsthand, since I’ve been appointed lead on this case. That means no media, not one single journalist is to have access, not verbal or written. There’s a sadistic killer on the loose, who obviously thrives off the pleasure of mutilating his victim. My primary concern is how quickly he or she will need to self-please again. Oh, one more theory…this could also be an isolated case of female jealousy.”

  “It’s extremely brutal, even barbaric, I must say, for a woman,” remarked Jones.

  “Hey, guys, over here, I found something,” one of the officers shouted.

  Both detectives ran down the woods at a fast pace.

  “Jesus, what the fuck is that thing?” Fike asked.

  Every man stood frozen. Expressions of anguish marked their faces while they viewed the severed hand and penis tied together with string. Now blackened with dried blood and debris, it lay in a nest of leaves.

  “Holy shit,” Jones whispered. She walked in a timid way as she moved around it taking photographs. Jones inhaled; she took special pleasure in this rare moment as Michaels cringed when he bent over to the ground. Wearing gloves, he moved methodically, and without a word, he picked it up at the area of the distal point of the hand, and slid the body part into a plastic evidence bag. He gave it to an officer. “Take this directly to our medical examiner, Mark Franks.”

  Jones raised her voice, “Facts, the horrors that this killer may have endured in his life, abuse, loss of love, sexual dysfunction, death—the grocery list goes on. This however does not give him the right to do these tortuous acts on this innocent man today. We most certainly will find the killer.”

  Detective Fike raised his voice, too. “Fact is, those are the facts pertinent to the case. I believe the suspect was on foot, no evidence suggesting otherwise. Those footprints there indicate he walked away from the body, towards his right side, and stepped further into the woods. Also, the blood which fell on those leaves formed in the same pattern.”

  Michaels stared at Fike. “So, you want us to assume he held the severed hand for a while enjoying his trophy, then walked it to the location where we found it? Or did something startle him, which caused him to freak out and throw it? Because on observation I see that the area between the victim and severed hand had no footprints or mashing of ground. My officers were very careful in preserving the site before they proceeded with the raking,” Michaels confirmed.

  “It was definitely a significant act to him, whe
ther the killer felt positive or negative results from cutting off the hand and penis, I’m unsure as to which emotion drove him at that precise time. Let’s propose he was satisfied by his actions, and then had a brief moment of sanity, so with disgust he throws the hand away from himself. Then he walks, or runs, into the woods,” said Jones.

  Fike observed the crime scene once more before speaking with Captain Michaels. “Please ask your men to collect all remaining evidence and have an officer deliver it directly to the morgue. Then have one of the officers mold those two partial shoe impressions that straddled the body. While the three of us”—he motioned to Jones and Michaels—” are going to track what little trail we have to follow into the woods. Starting northwest, I believe there’s a stream beyond those trees, I’m guessing he headed that way. Let’s spread out a bit, both of you move twenty feet on each side of me, and proceed slowly.”

  They followed the pattern of blood droplets. Jones collected several specimens, bagged them and continued on. She took four photographs at each site of interest. Jones noticed a small piece of material that hung on a tree limb. Eyeing the dark blackish red stains, she clipped the branch at its closest proximity to the material and bagged that also. The three of them came closer together, separated by approximately five feet. That allowed them to focus on the range where the evidence appeared to be more prominent. The woods were dense with trees, which made it difficult to see what lie ahead.

  “Michaels, Jones, prepare your weapons,” Fike told them. “Hold steady, move with caution, these trees have trapped us. I want to approach this as if the killer is upon our next footstep, for he just may be.”

  After forty minutes of tracking they came upon a stream. A mystic fog hung low over the water. Dead tree limbs arched together from above.

  “If the suspect walked in this way, he would have stopped right here, just as we did,” Jones remarked. “This forced him to make a decision whether to move upstream or cross over.”

  “Exactly,” said Fike, “depending on whether he was moving towards a specific location.”

  The three of them scanned the area. The stream appeared to be shallow water, which allowed them to wade across with ease. “My hunch is he has a cabin or makeshift shelter of some kind east of here,” Fike said.

  Michaels noticed the ground across the stream at the base of the waterline where there appeared to be a bundle of material. They proceeded into the cold water where Jones took several more photographs on the opposite bank.

  Michaels put on his gloves and proceeded to unravel the bundle. He unfolded the material; there was a blue button-up styled shirt that was doused in blood. All the buttons were gone with several tears on the front side.

  “Seems to me this guy was beyond anger when he tore off his shirt.” Michaels placed the shirt in an evidence bag. Fike and Jones nodded in agreement.

  They started out again tracking eastward where the terrain moved upward. They ascended into an open meadow. Jones inhaled slowly, taking a personal moment to feel the warmth of reality from the July sun as it bore down on them.

  “Unbelievable! I thought for sure we’d find another clue up here. Damn him, let’s make our way back!” Fike shouted with disappointment.

  He placed a vinyl red flag into the ground; he exhaled in disgust as he continued to place several flags along their route. He observed the grounds and quadrants of the area, carefully taking notes to give to the officers he’d send back to search later with tracking dogs.

  Chapter 7

  Detective Fike walked into the medical examiner’s room hoping for a shred of new information.

  Mark had just made an incision into the chest of a female cadaver when Fike approached him. Mark pointed to a chrome tray that held a plastic bag containing a small piece of blue material. Fike moved to the tray and put on gloves. He held up the item. “It appears to be a blindfold or bondage wrap of some kind.” Fike noted that the length of the material was about twenty inches. “Where did you find this?” he asked Mark.

  “I’d rather not tell you what orifice I found that in,” Mark replied. “However, you’ve seen the victim’s body, so it shouldn’t take much for your imagination to assess this one.”

  With a smirk, Fike nodded in agreement.

  “I ran all the blood samples obtained from the splattered leaves,” Mark continued, “the suspect’s torn shirt, the victim’s clothing, and the severed hand. The results are positively all from the same donor: an unknown male. Possible DNA matches were processed through the criminal information banks, no match found, and no criminal record of him on file.”

  “Thank you,” Fike responded, “you’ve done great work so far, Mark. Just one more question, what about the victim’s private part, you know. Ah, was it cut off while he was still alive?”

  “No, it was post-mortem,” Mark stated. “But the sick bastard who killed him forced our victim here to have oral sex. I found traces of semen in his mouth. Noted: fecal matter and bodily fluids on the head of the victim’s severed penis. This is an awful, revolting situation we are presented with here, Fike. Cause of death came from the violent stab wound this poor man took through the heart.”

  Fike gave Mark a pat on the back then left the room. Out the double glass doors, Fike bore the weight of Joseph Crown’s image on his shoulders. Entering the elevator, he felt grim as he descended back to his office.

  Fike approached Jones’ desk. “Mark was having quite a difficult time with this case, emotionally I mean.”

  “Why, has the evidence we presented been compromised?” Jones asked.

  “No, the evidence is secure. It’s the human aspect that’s getting to him,” Fike replied. “You know what I mean.”

  “Yes, I understand,” she responded in a soft tone.

  “So, Jones, what do you have for me?” asked Fike.

  “Our victim, Crown, was divorced in 1998. He had no children. However, he had a record for indecent exposure while performing sex acts with a prostitute in an open alleyway. No other criminal charges present. The club owner states Crown had been a regular customer for the past five years, when the XXXLadies first opened its doors. Employment record: he was an X-ray Technician at Central Medical Imaging. Crown had worked there for ten years. His supervisor stated that he was a responsible employee. He further stated that Crown was never late, and he considered him to be a good worker. He added that Crown didn’t have the best personality, but overall he was an alright guy.”

  Jones closed the file report then scooted her chair back and stood up. She continued the conversation with Fike while they walked to the elevator. “We have some new evidence downstairs in the lab. Forensics is holding it for you to see first.”

  He followed her through the doors. Once it closed, she started to discuss the latest find. “Our team of officers and police dogs found a one-man tent and sleeping bag nestled in the woods approximately two hundred yards to the left of the stream just north of the bloody shirt we discovered on the bank. Surprisingly, he swam through that cold water upstream, after tearing off his shirt.”

  The elevator opened to a large, sterile room where they were greeted by Myrna, the lead forensics technician. All items were bagged, tagged, and placed on a metal table awaiting Fike’s inspection. One blue sleeping bag smeared with mud and what appeared to be dried blood. A standard size plastic grocery bag filled with empty chili cans, food wrappers, and five empty water bottles.

  “Our suspect had a conscience for protecting the environment; he kept his surroundings clean, however, when it came to the human body he disregarded all conscientiousness,” Jones declared.

  The tent was somewhat new, and in very good condition. “Okay, collect any evidence from these sites on the sleeping bag and let me know directly if the blood belonged to our suspect,” said Fike.

  “I’m on it,” she responded with a self-conscious smile.

  Myrna Reynolds was extremely professional, so when she felt a sexual chemistry whenever Chris Fike presented himself,
she compensated for it by standing in a military fashion, presenting herself in a bitch-like manner. Which made her feel uncomfortable, knowing that Fike probably thought of her as an uptight ass. If she would allow herself to relax she’d realize he also had the same feelings for her.

  Chapter 8

  By the time the Washington chief of police received the news regarding the events surrounding Joseph Crown’s murder; the media had already swarmed to the steps of the police station. A vast number of journalists had virtually trapped Chief Johnson into presenting them with a statement.

  “Today we have uncovered the killer’s makeshift shelter. The evidence clearly coincides with the evidence found on the victim, Mr. Crown. So far the killer appears to be a single male and is unrelated to any of our unsolved cases.”

  “Can you describe the victim’s mutilated body?” one reporter shouted out over the noise of the crowd.

  “What about the safety of the public?” ABC affiliated news reporter Miss Franklin asked.

  Chief Johnson waved his arms in an attempt to quiet the group. He focused his attention on Miss Franklin. “I will issue a formal statement to the media in forty-eight hours. That’s all for now, please step aside and let me through.”

  Two police officers escorted him to his car. An assigned police officer was positioned in the front seat, and drove off once the chief was safe inside.

  Detective Fike answered his cell phone. He recognized the voice of Myrna Reynolds on the other end. This caused him to blush as he promptly asked, “What do you have for me?”

  “All specimens from the sleeping bag and containers tested positive with those already documented on our suspect, identical blood and body fluids.”

  “That’s exactly what I figured,” he replied.

  “Word spread down to my lab that the chief was bombarded this morning by the media. I thought this was a secure investigation?” Myna asked.