So this is a follow up to the Why Do The Police Think You're Being Murdered Right Now? storyline I wrote previously. This time I've aimed for bit of an 'ambiguous noire' setting. The setting is partially inspired by the movie Se7en, where the city is never directly named. It could be anywhere! Bit more creative freedom. Though the comparisons start to end pretty quickly. Plus, there's still some of the comedic roots, as I don't think any of the major concepts could ever be taken seriously. Let me know what you think!
Oh, and also...
Based* on a true story**
**Minor details and some memes of a true story
The Story Begins
Another day, another murder. The city had seen its fair share of violent crime throughout the years, but nothing this frequent. Some psychotic lunatic was carving his way from Uptown to The Stacks, and the cops were having a hard time stemming the flow of blood in their wake. It wasn’t long before the latest victim turned up somewhere, and when she did, the city started holding their collective breath. The clock had been reset, and someone's time was soon to be up.
It was November 13th when Detective Monica K was called to the scene. The latest corpse was discovered mere hours ago, and it was only two blocks from HQ. Forensics had already determined the crime took place here, so needless to say, their response time was something of an embarrassment.
Monica stepped out from the cover of her car and into the torrential downpour currently plaguing the city streets. The wind had stolen her umbrella when she first left HQ, and now she was soaked. Things might have been better if she had her hat, but the wind stole that too when she tried to chase the umbrella. Bad day all round.
Stepping under the security tape that cordoned off the crime scene, Mon noticed the flocks of reporters trying to grease the wheels for any info. Speaking to them was a good way to get on TV, but most of them ignored her presence. Probably mistook her for a hobo.
Sulking across the pavement and under the covered entrance of the building, Mon approached the officer on guard duty.
“Detective Monica K, Investigative Botanist. Crimes Division,” she stated, flashing her badge from within her wallet. A ten dollar banknote was whipped out of her wallet by the wind. The officer halfheartedly eyed her badge.
“Apartment 45, level four,” he yawned, “The lab coats are almost done with the place.”
“Thanks. Anything you can tell me about the crime scene?”
He shrugged. “All I know is that lunatic cut ‘em real good. ‘Sposed to be clean in half.”
Mon shuddered at the thought. Bracing herself, she stepped into the lobby and made her way to the nearby elevators. She punched in level four, and calmly awaited her stop as the elevator made its climb. The monotonous elevator music chimed in the background while a single poster provided the only decoration in the dimly lit capsule. Please report any fatal stabbings to the police as soon as you have the time to do so, it stated. The slogan could use some more urgency, thought Mon.
The doors parted to reveal a short hallway crammed with other detectives. They were too busy to notice her arrival, nor the squelching of her shoes on the carpet as she made her way to door number 45. Inside she was met by Doctor Brown, who happened to be on his way out.
“Ah, Detective K. Just in time,” greeted Brown, still scribbling on his clipboard.
“Indeed. What’s the deal with this one?”
Brown turned back and walked her into the apartment. Off to the right, a few steps into the apartment, was what was assumedly the living room. A coffee table had been flipped over, and in its place was a young woman’s corpse.
“Female, caucasian, early twenties. Stabbed 58 times in the chest and abdomen.”
“Brilliant, we’ve got a lunatic who doesn’t know when to quit,” Mon shook her head. “What a rough way to go.”
A large amount of blood had pooled across the floor, leaving the mangled body as pale as moonlight. Her once white dress and been drenched in a scarlet hue, almost cut to shreds. Numerous wounds had made her insides uncomfortably visible.
“Well actually, his first stab pierced her heart,” Brown explained. “Died not long after. She was already gone before the other 57 stabs.”
Mon’s only thought could be represented as a large, singular question mark suspended in the air. Those extra stabs just sounded pointless.
“I’ll... leave you to it then. How about my crime scene?” she asked.
“Of course! Right this way.” Brown led her past the living room and into the adjacent bedroom. Inside, an unmade bed lay illuminated by the dull glow of a billboard outside the window. Brown pointed to the windowsill.
Perched atop it was a most grizzly sight. A large flower pot held what used to be a thriving plant. The killer had taken a pair of scissors to it and chopped it clean in two, leaving the discarded top half on the floor. The stem stood weakly in the city light as the leaves lay motionless on the carpeted floor.
“Oh fuck!” exclaimed Mon, doubling over and vomiting into a nearby bin.
Brown sighed. “I’ll have what few pieces of evidence we have ready for inspection back at HQ, though it’s not much to go on.”
“We have to find something,” she said, clearing her throat. “We can’t let this sick bastard strike again. We’ve lost too many innocent plants already.”
Outside, the rain continued to pour, mourning the loss of yet another of Mother Nature’s children.
To be continued...