Tom and Larry pulled Frank to a seated position in front of the table Dave was on. Kevin handed Larry a bottle of water, which Frank drank from. The men were quiet. Frank rubbed his knee, which was the first point of impact on his fall.
“That’ll hurt tomorrow,” he whispered, “sorry to do that, fellas.”
“No problem, bud. We’re here for you,” Larry smiled.
Frank put some weight on his feet and felt a slight ache in his knees.
“I hate getting old,” Frank stood. The others followed suit.
“I’ll start with the most interesting fact here,” Kevin began, “it would appear that the same instrument was used to kill Erik and Dave.”
“So we almost have a serial killer in Fishbanks,” Tom said. It takes three kills to become a serial killer.
“I haven’t found anything else to help with our assessment. There’s a single and fatal wound on the neck. The difference, obviously, is Erik’s wound severed his head while Dave’s carotid was severed,” Kevin stated.
Tom’s phone whistled. Literally.
“That’s my girl, Tammy. I have to take this.”
“You’re not finding any bruising, defensive wounds, prints, hairs, or anything else?” Frank asked.
“Nothing. But it’s weird. The shape of the cut and the angle look something like a fishing hook would make,” Kevin said.
“Someone’s trying to make a joke of us,” Larry threw his beefy hands up.
“Thanks, Kevin. We should check out the murder sites for other clues. Who’s Erik’s next of kin?” Frank shook Kevin’s hand again.
“Carol. His daughter.”
“Shit. It sucks talking to the kid’s of the deceased,” Larry sighed.
Frank and Larry waved at Tom, who nodded in return as he talked to his daughter about the dangers of drugs. The partners exited the coroner’s office. The sun shined brightly, shining off the mens’ badges. Larry opened his door and leaned over the hood.
“These deaths were two weeks apart. We could find ourselves with another victim by then.”
Frank looked at him from the driver’s side, “Let’s chat with Carol. I’m headed to see my wife tonight.”
“Good luck with telling her the news. That sucks.”
“She won’t remember it for long. Let’s see Carol now so I can get a head start to see her.”
Larry hefted himself into the passenger seat. Frank looked towards the coroner’s door, towards his dead son. He closed his eyes and whispered a prayer something like this: Dear Father, take my son into your arms. Comfort him. Place him on your right side, for he is a loyal and honest servant. I love him as I love you. Amen.
Frank sat in his seat.
Bucci Creates 