The Scene- Big Tease

Prologue

           

            About three months ago the first victim was found up north in the outskirts of Fresno. She was left naked, one wrist had been slashed, and interestingly enough she was missing most of her blood. However, there was no blood found at the scene. Since then six more bodies have been discovered; all female, all exsanguinated. Three more girls were found in or around Fresno, two turned up just outside of Bakersfield, and the last was found right here in good ol' Los Angeles; making body number seven and a vampire in my backyard.

            To no surprise the media glommed onto the tragedy dubbing it the “Vampire Massacres”. These murders have had the biggest west coast media coverage since that football player slaughtered his wife and some waiter, oh sorry, “allegedly”.  I make my living as a journalist, mostly freelance. But since the media has freaked over these recent murders that slightly resemble a “vampire attack” I have decided to do some digging into the case and hopefully write a book.

             Seeing as though these murders have yet to be solved and the case come to a non-climactic end, I obviously have very little basis for a best seller, but I've got to start somewhere. The way I see it the cops are all sitting around with their thumbs in their asses waiting for clues to fall into their ever expanding laps. My plan is to have a little chat with some wanna-be vampire kids and get more insight into the world  the media has so easily clung to as the culprit of these crimes in one night than all of the counties upstanding police force have in three months. Or, I'll just be bombarded with a bunch of dip shits in black lipstick and plastic teeth who read way too much Anne Rice and don't know squat. Either way I have a premise for a book. I'm thinking either “When Vampires Attack” or “Vamp Kids: Kill 'em All!” a best seller either way.

Chapter 1

~

Sources tell me a garbage man stumbled upon the corpse of a young female in an alley near Bonita Terrace this morning. This would be the seventh and latest victim of the so-called vampire massacres. From what I hear she was a stripper that worked at a seedy little joint in the badlands of West Hollywood called Le Pussy Cat. If placing the “Le” in the title was supposed to make classy, it wasn’t working. This tidbit of information hasn't hit the news yet so I'm guessing they aren't releasing any details to the media.

            I've decided to head to the crime scene in hopes that my favorite homicide detective would be there just dying to let me know all the dirty little details. Okay, so I usually have to beg, steal, and barrow to get anything out of him but in the long run it's usually a win, win.

            I threw on my most innocent-bystander looking ensemble; just a pair of jeans, a white tank, and my favorite worn-in converse. I whipped my hair up into a ponytail and called it a day. I figure, if in the event he isn't investigating this particular crime scene I'd better not look like part of the swarming vultures waiting with pens and microphones in hand. I have discovered in the last four years as a professional journalist only witless, toothless, “I didn't really see nothin' but I wanna be famous” yokels  actually talk to the media. On the other hand people love to talk to each other. They enjoy revealing what they know and what they saw to others in their community. Thus the plain clothes; if I blend in with “Joe Schmoe” I am much  more likely to grab a few important details than if I interrupt the hard working police from their standing around doing nothing duty to ask a few questions. 

            I grabbed my purse which is really just a big pocket for my money, keys, and phone. I threw my shades on and I was out the door. It always takes me a minute to lock the door; it's kind of broken. I have to pull on the knob while I turn the deadbolt over. It’s such a pain in the ass, but after a full minute and a few choice words; success! Now down two flights of stairs, past one barking dog, and under a very low tree branch just over the last step, which I have complained about twelve times now to no avail, before emerging unto the city street.

Stupid sun, it is way too bright out today.

It's May so it's not quite sweltering yet but the seats in my Geo Metro were close to scalding. My shitty apartment complex has very little parking so nine times out of ten I have to park on the street which provides no shade. I turned the key and the engine fired right up, trusty old piece of crap I'll give it that much. The A/C on the other hand, not so much. I cranked the dial over to “blasting” and waited while the air flowing from the vents slowly moved from broiling, to tepid, to bearable. Five minutes later I was finally pulling away from the curb near my apartment on my way to see a man about a dead girl.

            The air in my car was finally cooling my skin as I found an empty spot of curb on Hillcrest Ave. to lean my two door hatchback against.  I was about a block down from all the action but I could clearly see the crowd from this vantage point. I left my purse in the car. I didn't want anyone to think I had come here with a purpose. I got out of the car and meandered towards the horde of people corralled on the safe side of the yellow tape.

            When I finally got close enough to see the real action I was thwarted by some very tall people, although being only five foot four most people are taller than me. I had to wriggle my way between concerned neighbors and your usual “rubberneckers”. Once I got close enough to touch the police line I scanned the scene for my friend on the force. I use the word friend loosely. A more accurate statement would be just friends. At least, that’s what we were trying for anyway.

As per usual there were a handful of newbie officers guarding the parameter trying to look very official. Behind them were a couple of people looking behind a blue dumpster. They wore surgical gloves, and black shirts with “FORENSICS” in bright yellow on the back; no badges, just laminates. I didn't see a body; they must have hauled it off already. The surprisingly overweight officer standing slightly to my left finally moved revealing a police cruiser about forty feet away where two men wearing shirt and tie were talking and smiling; obviously detectives. One of the men was short and round, kind of like Santa. His hair cut so short against his head I could see the red of a sun burn showing through on his scalp; not my guy. The other was tall, largely shaped, in an “I play football” kind of way, with perfectly cut and expertly combed medium brown hair. I watched him talk and smile. I liked his smile; it made the corners of his beautiful aquamarine eyes crinkle up just a little. This was Detective Michael Petersen, my only trustworthy and usually generous inside-man.

 Now to get his attention...hmm...I could yell “Hey Mike” but that would just be tacky. I could fain some drastic fainting spell and cross my fingers that he comes running. Okay no...Plan C it is. I’ll call a uniform over and tell him I saw something last night and I'd like to speak to the Detective on scene. Much better plan.

            I stood there for a moment purposely looking confused and scared. It didn't take long before I had an officer hovering above me. The damsel in distress act works every time.

            “Is there something the matter Miss?” This from the overweight officer who was blocking my view only moments ago.

            “Um...yes it's just that...I saw that women last night. I'm not sure what kind of information I can provide but do you think I should speak to a detective?” I gave him my best doe-eyed look.

“Wait right here for just a sec' alright?” He looked panicked not sure who to go to about this. He must be very new to the game.

I nodded once before he spun around on his heal and headed off toward my detective. I watched as he explained what he had just heard. I watched as both detectives looked over and around the large uniform to see me. Then I watched as Mike, Detective Petersen, realized who I was, rolled his eyes, and gave the “I'll handle this” nod to the others standing around him. He walked briskly my way giving me the stink eye the entire time.

Oh this is going to be so much fun.

            “What?” He said abruptly, trying to intimidate me with his six foot three bulky build.

            “Such hostility Mike. Did we not get our Wheaties this morning?”

            “Cut the bitch act, Dylan, I am in no mood to banter with you today.” He was serious.

 I'd better straighten up.                    

            “You know why I'm here Mike, what can you give me?” I looked at him as sincerely as I possibly could for a second then finished it up with my signature half crooked smile.

            “I dunno...what can you give me?” He smiled too, adding a dirty little wink at the end. It drives me nuts when he acts as though I might actually sleep with him at this point.

            “Nothing right now, it's hot and your friends are watching.” He glanced behind him to see the other the detective and the uniform staring at us from forty feet away. “I just want to know if she was girl number seven...can you tell me that?”

            “She was discovered behind the dumpster early this morning. We are almost certain she lived in these apartments. There was a small incision type wound on her neck and inner thigh. Apparently her clothing was only partially removed” Astonishing, not only because of her career choice but because she was the only one left that way.

            “Is she 'The Counts' latest victim?” I said with a light chuckle.

            “You really have no heart do you?” He continued before I could answer that. “We can't be sure until we get the M.E.s report back. We didn't find any obvious trace of blood in the area but we need to know if she has any left or not to be sure.”

            “You think maybe they were interrupted? That would explain why she still had some clothes on. Although, I had always assumed the clothes were removed ante mortem. It would make sense that the clothes need to be taken off in order to...perform...the blood draining.” I said indifferently.

            “We'll know more once all of the evidence is processed.  As of right now we can’t officially say that this girl was the seventh victim. But, Dylan, off the record, watch your neck. There are vampires roaming the streets of Los Angles.” He flashed a halfhearted smirk, turned, and walked away. 

            I stood for a minute more watching the police do their work, listening to the murmuring speculation of the crowd behind me. It was starting to get really hot standing out in the open sun. Sweat began to drip down the backs of my legs.

 Ugh fuck jeans.

I had gotten what I came for, it was hot, and all these people where making me nervous. I turned slowly as not to slam into the nosy person standing directly behind me. I had to push my way back out of the herd of people pressed in around me. After a few elbows and snide remarks I was out of the thick of it and headed back to the sanctuary of my car. I opened the door and waited for a second to let the hot air trapped inside waft out. I plopped down into the seat instantly regretting it as the heat soaked through my jeans and burned my skin. I turned the car on quickly and waited for the A/C to kick in. Once the air was cool enough I shut my door and headed back home.

            On the way home I began processing in my head the events that had just transpired. I thought of the blue dumpster, the alley it was parked in, and what Mike had said about the girl being partially dressed. Ugh stupid Mike “oh watch your neck there's vampires in L.A.”.

Whatever, there is no such thing as vampires.