truthfront

Category: detective

  • Carter Creek

    A woman walking her dog on the asphalt path found him half submerged in the water of Carter Creek with the rest of his body tangled in the waterside shrubbery. The woman told investigators that she knew he was dead because his head and torso were not moving underwater and his legs were pointed upward and impossibly corkscrewed together. The police roped off the area and examiners lifted the man from the cold water to find him headless. I’d say he’s been here longer than 24 hours, said an examiner, removing her sunglasses to wipe them with her shirt. I’ve no idea how his legs could twist up like that.

    News of the grisly discovery quickly spread and the detectives requested assistance to keep the crowd of reporters away. The two worked in the bright cold of a November morning one mile south of the capitol where giant trees lined the creek’s diagonal path northward toward the glimmering symmetry of downtown. The detectives studied the body for as long as possible before it was transported to the coroner. One detective traveled with the body and the other stood where the dead man lay minutes ago. He listened to the trickling water, the chorus of curious birds watching from branches above. Other examiners stalked the area, snapping twigs beneath their feet. The detective kneeled closer to the water and studied the thorny bushes, asking an examiner to take photographs. Fabric from the dead man’s clothes waved in the chilled breeze. Two officers in wetsuits and breathing gear searched the water for the man’s head or anything else of interest to the detectives.

    The detective scoured the scene for hours. The other called from the coroner’s office. Seems his head was chopped off with an axe, he said. Probably after he was shot in the chest. Two bullets near the heart likely killed him. Then he was decapitated. The body was then moved to the creek and dumped there. 

    The detective put the phone back in his pocket and an officer handed him a fresh paper cup of coffee. He opened the steaming lid and sipped. It was the second headless body found in the city that week. He shivered and got back to work.

  • wide minutes

    The detective stopped walking to read the marquee. The main feature: Two Known Bones, an action film he’d never heard of. Two other movies played on smaller screens: Wide Minutes and Until Death Do Dawn. He continued walking south down the boulevard with his feet aching and the sunlight waning. A loner, moving or not, eating or performing any mundane task in his week, month, year. Alone even when not. Some mornings he sits at the sunlit window reading and sometimes writing in his pocket notebook, either working through a case or working through himself. Last night he dreamed of a brown bear following him through the city, trying to hide from him. His question wasn’t: Why is a brown bear in the city? but: What does this bear want from me? He strode south and west and asked himself various questions pertaining to truth and how we can know what truth is. One response arrived as a breeze on his sweaty forehead: Walk through your aches. Walk through your pain. Walk to gain clarity, focus, understanding. 

    The detective moved on. Who is he? Who he is matters less than what he does, what he thinks, how he moves. A timeless hero in any language, any culture. The city marked by tapestries of sound and light, heat and rancid alleyways. The city bewilders and disappoints. But it breathes life into you. He walks at night, a shadow on the cement and pavement, faded and elongated, then more defined as he moves beneath and past the streetlamp. Then he’s gone. The next object moves in, casts its shadow.