Untitled Short Horror

USH--Chapter 4- Julia Kane

They arrived on scene to a mass of fanfare; Walter, Tamil, and Fletcher showing up separately at the same time. Walter driving Tamil and Fletcher pulling up solo in his grey Dodge Charger. Children, parents, joggers, bikers, and the many affected store owners were an intense mix of doleful, displeased, and many lost and forlorn in between. A heavy throng of cameras and familiar media followed Tamil to the line, not as aggressive when Fletcher and Walter walked over after.

Tamil ducked under the line and shot back up with a start, removing his gloves by the buttons and then one finger at a time. He gently took out the ponytailer Emma had given him for an early Father's Day gift, gray and covered with white Eiffel Towers, from his now tousled hair in order to fix it up more presentable. Up to him came a rotund, red all down his body, little White man. Right as Tamil was pulling back his long ringlets with the scrunchie in his teeth.

The man, who he could tell was one of the small business owners, was fuming. His hair was a silver-grey with a noticeable bald spot in the back of his head, just as red as the rest of him even if he tried to comb over it. He had a friendly mutton chop beard, despite coming off not so neighborly. Dressed in his button-down and loose fitting slacks.

"Do you know what happened?" The man asked, "Are you a cop?"

"Naht exahctly," Said Tamil, taking the hair piece out of his mouth and beginning to wrap it around the hair bundled in his hand. He was quick to pull his badge out of his pocket to show the man who looked by no means any more pleased than he started as. "But I'm an investigator with the state of Oregon."

"Fuck's sake..."

"I'm sure me and my colleagues—" Tamil whipped his head around to see where they were, finally passing the tape and on their way to his side, "—will be able to find out what happened. Are you one of the nearby business owners?"

"You bet I am, and this is fucking rediculous."

Tamil pulled his gloves back on, nodding at the man with his usual air sympathy, "I agree, Sir, this has to be devastating to your business. For both yourself and your employees."

The man's eye twitched, taking a step toward Tamil and pointing a confrontational finger at him, "Don't play your negro mindgames on me, what do you think I am?"

Tamil froze in place, his second glove half onto his pinky and ring finger. His expression did not change at all, still stuck in a look of kindhearted understanding. He continued to listen as the man continued on, spewing venom at the detective without an ounce of shame or sign of stop from him. Talking about how he knew the type of man he was, the type of man that must have killed the woman, and how his type of man ruined the city he grew up in.

This was not a new occurrence. While it was on the scene of a crime, it was nothing new in the grand scheme of his time being alive. The ignorance, the malice, the degradation. He had grown accustomed to it, where it was far from a jarring surprise and more like a fifty-fifty chance when interacting with new folks. So much so that he had got this man's type, diverse and inclusive in just how many ideals, morals, classes, and ages were included within that mindset, down to an art. Already putting up the mental firewall that burned the store owner's disgusting tripe into ashes on his emotions doorstep. Only letting a trifling of the nasty smoke that the action created together waft in.

Once Walter and Fletcher were in ear shot, they hurried on a bit faster.

"Finally, some real fucking cops to talk to!" The man exclaimed, completely dismissing Tamil with a hand wave and stepping toward them, "What happened here? Can you tell me what happened, what's gonna happen to my business? The wall where whoever that is died is covered in blood now, and..."