A Long Night

Featured in "Short Stories Newsletter (April 16, 2008)" 

         I parked the old silver Crown Victoria near the curb and turned the lights off. The officers had finished roping the area off and were now escorting half a dozen reporters away from the premises. A fire truck lit up the evening sky with flashing lights as a handful of volunteers repacked their gear. I shook my head at the pathetic scene. Sardis, Mississippi was nothing like L.A.

         My older partner began rummaging through the glove compartment. An irritated sigh escaped her full lips as she regarded me with cool ebony eyes that matched the dress suit she wore tonight. "I suppose the gloves are in the trunk again, Michael. Why do you that?"

         The woman's level voice, mixed with the local southern drawl, made it hard for me to focus. "Sorry, Marie-Ann. That's usually where I keep the big guns. I like to have everything I need in one spot." I shrugged before reaching down and pulling the trunk release. "Old habit."

         "Well you're not arresting gang bangers anymore. There's no need to keep putting crap in the trunk." She paused in the act of opening the passenger door. "And don't call me Marie-Ann."

         "Then stop calling me Michael."

         Marie replied with a curt nod before slamming the door.

         While contemplating the fact that I will never understand women, I began searching every pocket of my gray suit for a smoke. The endeavor proved futile, and I stopped when my partner lookup up into my eyes with that cool stare. She handed me a pair of latex gloves and we walked in silence toward what was left of the Dutch-colonial style home.

         The silence irritated me because I recognized the test. She dared me to take the lead. I stopped in the middle of the lawn and exhaled a heavy sigh. Those dark orbs stared into mine once more, but I met the challenge this time. The captain really screwed up with this pairing. "Look Davis, we have the same time in grade and the same rank. Between you and me, I don't care who takes the lead. I just want to solve cases. Now instead of attitude why don't you try telling me what you think? Me? I see an open and shut case. This house was older than my grandmother, God rest her soul."

         Marie paused for a moment before exploding into a fit of laughing. She grabbed my arm, her unpainted nails digging into my slim bicep, and pulled me toward the dilapidated home. It took her a few moments to control her unusual mirth. "Credit is overrated. Your theory is a good one, but the Hansons have always been reclusive, strange. Maybe some nut decided to do the town a favor."

*          *          *

         We stood looking within the remains of a devastated living room in silence for a couple of minutes. Two bodies shared a loveseat centered along the windowless left wall. A child-sized husk occupied one of two chairs along the far wall with a shattered window above it. The small television set to our right continued to spark in sporadic spurts. I shook my head at the mess left behind by Sardis' Finest. "Did they use all the water in the whole damn county?"

         Davis let out a soft sigh as she walked into the room filled with charred corpses. "Mick, look at this." She pointed a finger at the remains of a car seat with a newborn still strapped in. Her slim form crouched low and picked up a clear shard from the rubble. "Glass." We both stared at the window. "Someone threw this baby into the fire."

         I looked away in disgust and examined the pair on the sofa, kicking over a burned set of slender pipes along the way. "One set of wrists are tied to the arm of the sofa. The other isn't. The bound wrists are smaller. Mrs. Hanson?"

         "Looks like a mass suicide."

         I shook my head at her summation. "Then who threw the baby back inside?"

         A rustling sound from behind made me reach for my gun. Davis giggled and led the nerdy looking medical examiner in. The kid looked nineteen. I sighed and stepped outside to let him do his job.

         The fire department and reporters left during our initial investigation, leaving Davis and I alone with our thoughts. Out of habit, my hands searched each pocket for a Marlboro. I looked toward the car and noticed something odd. "Didn't you close the trunk, Davis?"

         Marie took a deep breath while removing her forty-five. "Yea."

         We approached the vehicle with care and found the remains of a camera inside the trunk. I thought back to the scene- a burned set of slender pipes.

         "A tripod."

         "What?"

         I did not bother responding as I tried to see if the thing still worked. An image appeared on the miniature screen but no sound accompanied it. A balding man in jeans and a plaid shirt sat on a leather sofa and spoke into the camera, a serene look on his face as the wife struggled to break free beside him. Hanson looked to the left and jumped from the seat and ran off the screen. Mrs. Hanson's eyes widened in horror as her husband fell back toward the sofa with a shard of glass embedded into his chest. A slender hip in blue jeans stood in front of the lens, obscuring the view. Soon the picture went dark and I resumed breathing.

         Davis broke the silence. "Someone escaped, took the camera, and left the others to burn."

         "And threw in the baby for good measure."

         Davis and I exchanged tired glances. We both knew it was going to be a long night.

This is a short story written for "The Writer's Cramp" .
November 14th, 2007 Prompt:Write a short story or poem about finding something unexpected in the trunk of your car. Thing is, it can't be a body.
Word Count:950
Detective Michael Lovic also makes a brief cameo in "A Wasted Life" .