Jack Holmes : A Look Inside the Mind of a Psychopath

Chapter 15: Detective Howard

The song "Tuesday is Gone" by Lynyrd Skynyrd is currently playing.

"Train roll on, on down the line.

Won't you please take me far away?

Now I feel the wind blow, outside my door.

Means I'm leaving my woman behind.

Tuesday's gone with the wind.

My baby's gone with the wind, again."

It's now noon, at a run down dusty old one bedroom house in new Mexico lies on the bed a man that life has tossed about like a whirlwind. Laying motionless, he steers into the ceiling as if he is looking into an abyss.

His room could definitely use the service of a maid. There is whiskey and beer bottles alternating positions throughout the room on the floor.

He might have well just stepped out of the jungle from among his ape buddies. Excepting for his eyes and nose there is not much to make out as his face his covered with thick black hair with patches of gray sparsely dispersed.

He finally manages to sit up and move over to the side of the bed. He places a hand to his eyes right where they make connection with the nose and he rubs them a bit. He then retrieves a box of cigarette and removes one from it and lights it.

He takes up a small bottle of whiskey and goes to the door facing the outside. He stands at the door and steers in the abyss once more. His focus is broken only by the need to take a draw from the cigarette or a sip from the bottle of whiskey.

The brown of the grass suggests that the sun is the ruler of these parts and only blue skies are permitted.

He musters his way back into the kitchen where he reunites once more with dirty dishes and pans screaming for help as bacteria and insects have a ball at the expense of their current state.

The floor is wonderfully decorated with a couple of pizza boxes that have been turned into beautiful studio apartments for a family of roaches that seems to be extending as the days go by.

As he steers at the kitchen one of the roaches greets him with a kiss on the jaw but before he could react she went back to her family. That's the first kiss he has received from a female in months.

He leaves the entrance of the kitchen and head outside after taking up a key holder with only two keys on it.

Parked outside is a broken down van that seemed to have survived every apocalypse and war that mankind has faced. And is now just going through the motions until it's time for it to go to that big junk yard to rest, which could be any day now.

After several attempts to get the van going it lets out a burp and that seemed to have cleared its airways as it started to throttle, telling its owner it is ready to go now.

He drives the van to his usual spot for food, a little diner in town. He walks into the diner and takes a seat at the counter.

"I hope you got money to pay this time," a middle age lady standing over the counter replies.

The job seems to have taken its toll on her. If only she could run a way. Why couldn't she be a dancer or an actress? She still ask herself these questions to this day, whenever depression or the ills of the job gets to her.

"It's OK Rachel, I have a few change to spear," he tells her.

"How about a slice of that apple pie?" He requested.

After handing him the pie Rachel leans over on the counter and begins to talk.

"Why do you keeping doing this to yourself?" She asks disappointed.