Abrupt Justice

Detective Maroni shook four aspirin out of the bottle and into his mouth, washing them down with the last dregs of his morning coffee, his unkempt appearance so cliché he could have posed for the cover of P.I. Monthly.

This week was off to one hell of a start. A murder/kidnapping scenario did little to ease the internal thumping the daily hangover was causing in his skull. He lit a cigarette and climbed out of the car.

The otherwise spotless house contained a particularly gruesome crime scene; a woman’s body sprawled across the kitchen floor, blood splattered on the cupboards and counters, a pool of blood over in front of the refrigerator, ten feet from where the woman died.

She had dragged herself as far as the counter where she was able to pull a phone book down to the floor. A name, circled in the red of her own blood, pointed to what Maroni assumed to be the guilty party. There was no surprise; she was implicating her ex-husband.

Cops and cars sped off to the suspect’s address.

Maroni held back, his years of experience telling him there was more here than there appeared. Alone, he walked through the back rooms of the house, perfectly decorated rooms filled with photos, beds and bathtubs. The first officers on the scene had already secured the house but he had learned to trust his instincts.

He noted the stuffed bear near the side of the stairs, out of place on the floor. He quickly put it all together. Gun in hand; he tapped on the door to the crawl space under the stairs. The little girl came out first, her dad holding a gun to her head, ready to negotiate.

Maroni fired once. Game over. He never negotiated when nursing a hangover.

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