Graves for Young Men

Chapter Two: Samuel

Being a cop is never easy. You had to deal with the most incompetent people that were put on God's green earth. I mean, who the hell doesn't know that Red means stop while Green means go. Not to mention the idiots who drove under the influence. Making me question if the human race was not heading towards mass extinction already.

Then there were criminals who would rival the devil himself.

The corpse before me was named Ricky Diaz. Once the captain of the football team, he faced jail time from drug abuse to hitting women around. He served five years in state prison with a restraining order. But once the restraining order expired, he started to stalk his ex-girlfriend at the place where she worked. So chances of the big bag of shit being murdered were high.

As usual, everyone in the café was shocked by how Ricky could drop dead. Despite the fact he was drinking an expresso, the man seemed to be choking on something. Telling me he was poisoned by his ex-girlfriend, Julie Sanders. So this should be an open and close case.

Sadly, when I was given the test results on the expresso I knew Murphy's Law was at it again.

"There's nothing abnormal in the drink." Mary from the Crime Scene Investigation unit said. "Other than milk, coffee, and some sugar, there was nothing lethal in the drink."

"Lovely." I said as I took a quick glance at the trembling Miss. Sanders in the kitchen. "We are going to need an autopsy on this guy ASAP. Hopefully, this is just Asthma gone wrong."

"Well, he was a smoker. So maybe is a new form of cancer?

"Either way, I got a funny feeling that Mr. Diaz death was more natural than foul play. For we got the whole café telling us a nurse was giving him CPR. And since there was not even a packet of gum on this guy, I doubt we will find anything interesting."

I would like to agree with Mary on this. However, my gut told me that Ricky Diaz's death was not in any form "natural". Because having 15 years of being an officer of the law taught me to trust my basic instincts. For it saved me countless times from drug dealers to rapists. So I will stick to my instincts for the time being than overpaid lab results.

"Check the videotapes to find this nurse." I said. "I will be busy questioning Miss Sanders."

"Better let a woman do it, sir." Mary said. "She was abused by the newly descent. Not to mention watching him drop dead has too many untold effects on her."

I grinned my teeth knowing Mary had a point. Victims of domestic abuse developed a kind of attachment to their abuser. To the point where they justify everything, the evil little shits did to them. Even if the victim could get away, the horrors they faced would haunt them till the day they die.

And since this prick decided to stalk his victim...God sometimes I hate this job.