Bloody Bracelet

Part 2

My name is Thomas H. Murphy, Detective for the NYPD. I was Chicago born, but Brooklyn raised. This city is my home, know every crook and canny of this place, from the Wang's Chinese Takeout till' Ratty Jay apartment across town, an informant of mine. I've always been a curious little kid. I once found a dead frog in our back yard and I spent almost three days trying to figure out his murderer. Turns out, there's an eagle nest not too far from the house. I guess 5 second rule count for eagle too.

"How's it hanging there, kid?", said Johnson.

Officer Patrick Johnson is like that loud, obnoxious lady at the office that nobody really likes. Just look busy, Tom. Maybe, just maybe if I start typing on the keyboard, he'd leave me alone. I'm really not in the mood to hear about this great UFC fight that happened over the weekend.

"A little to the left, Pat."

Great, now he's planted his unironed pleads and loud ass on my desk. For fuck's sake.

"Hey did you catch that awesome fight last weekend?"

I swear to God, it's sometimes like clockwork.

"Can't say that I have, Pat. You mind moving? I'm trying to work."

"Oh yeah, heard about that girl in the alley. Probably just a hooker who priced way more than she could sell. If you want, I can take over the case and show you how a real policeman solves it."

I swear, Pat. I will beat you with this keyboard.

"Isn't there a stolen hotdog that needs some of that 'real policeman' duty? You're bugging me."

"Alright, geez. Keep it cool there, kiddo. You can never be to generous.", Pat mockingly said as he stood up.

"Funny, last night you're wife had the exact same motto."

"Alright, you two, knock it off.", Chief blared from the doorway of the office. "Officer Johnson, coffee break is over, how about you go be a policeman before you go on leave, huh?"

"Yes, Chief."

I could feel Johnson giving me one last steely-eyed look as he walked away. Fuck him, he's a clown. Thank God, he's going to Mexico for a few days. You can see the years of finding dead girs in alleys and breaking up drug rings has had it's toll on Chief. He's suppose to look younger, right? Wait, we have a new janitor? I wonder what happened to Earl.

"Sounds like someone took a piss in your coffee there, Chief."

"Fed up is all, Tom. One of these days I'll be kicking back in retirement. Then this department and goverment can all go kiss my ass."

"Don't act like you won't miss us."

"Please, I'd miss Johnson before I miss you."

Yeah, that was probably true.

"Fair enough. What's word from the doc?"

"You'll have all his reports and documents on your table by Monday morning."

"Great, thanks Chief."

"Go home, Tom. You've been coming in earlier every morning."

"The old lady's snoring is getting worst. Sleep tight, boss."

This drive home feels quieter than usual. The streets feel less active, trees are dead still in the night. It feels like a build up to something. I remember my first real dead body I ever saw. I must have been 11? I was riding through the woods with my bike until I tripped over a damn branch. That damn branch turned out to be a 32 year old man who was shot in the head twice. Not symmetrical, small calibur bullets, gun residue on the man's forehead. Sounded like a gang hit. Point blank with a 9mm Glock. Definitely an execution. A lot of doctors recommended I seek proffesional help after that. They said I could suffer frome post-traumatic stress, but I was fine. I felt alive actually. All I wanted to do was find out who, why and how. Goddamnit, she always leaves the front door wide open.