The Beast of 1977 (Book 1)

Chapter 34

There was a small, off to the side office that was located on the fourth floor of police headquarters.

With his left arm wrapped in a sling, Detective Linus Bruin despondently sulked in his chair behind a clean and orderly desk. The clothes that he was wearing just happened to be the same torn and bloody garments he wore from the night before. Not one detail on his entire body had been rearranged; from his unkempt hair, all the way down to his blood stained Thom Mcan's His drooping face was a blank canvas from cheek to cheek.

No sort of emotion whatsoever bothered to appear. Inside of him dwelt a teetering calm, like a cease fire in the midst of a hellacious battle.

All night long the man had endured question after probing question, cameras flashing in his face and officers frantically rushing him to one end of the police station to the other as if he were a time bomb inside of a box.

His hands rested motionless in his lap while his face stayed poised on the desk in front of him. There was an itch on the bridge of his nose that the man didn't have the strength or will to scratch at.

A knock at the door disturbed the silence in the small office. From behind the door appeared Officer Donaldson who came in with a steaming cup of coffee. The woman quietly placed the cup down onto the desk before handing Linus a sympathetic smile.

"Thank you, officer." Inspector O'Dea delicately stated before blowing lightly on the rim of the hot mug. "That will be all for now."

The average looking man that was sitting across from Linus with his thin lips pressed tightly together was around the same age as the detective. He wanted to appear smart in his oversized, blue stripped tie and white shirt.

The man's pepper-tinted hair was trimmed to perfection, with not one hint of an out of place sliver. His dubious looking white face supported a thick, grey mustache that was groomed to where a person could only see his bottom lip move up and down whenever he spoke.

O'Dea meticulously sipped on the edge of the cup before looking up at Linus and saying, "You must forgive me. I did not have the opportunity to savor my wife's delectable cooking this morning. The woman makes the best homemade sausage this side of the Ohio River. Jimmy Dean be dammed."

Linus sat and watched as the inspector placed his elbows on the table and folded his hands before glancing around the room and asking, "Are you cold?"

Linus only slightly shook his head from side to side. For him, and at that point, words were as hard to grasp as air in his hands.

"It's funny how thin the walls are in this building. Shows you just how old the place really is." O'Dea affectionately sighed. "My grandfather was an officer here back around the turn of the century. According to him, this place was falling apart back then, too."

Linus looked on as O'Dea turned his attention to the window to his immediate left. Both men could hear the protestors outside on the ground chant loud and clear.

"Boisterous, aren't they?" O'Dea looked back at Linus. "Jesus, you look like you haven't slept in days, Detective," the man pointed. "Are you feeling alright? Well, that's a pretty stupid question." He flippantly grinned. "Look, I know you think I'm here to nail you to the wall, but that's not the case. I just want to know what took place last night."

All of the sudden, colors began appearing right before Linus' eyes as he sat there in his chair. It was a psychological disorder that seemed to occur at the perfect moment and in the perfect place.

"Now, you've been silent about the entire ordeal for the past few hours, Detective. Don't you think it's time to open up? I mean, you're gonna have to do a helluva lot better than domestic abuse with that mob out there, my friend." The inspector empathetically explained.

Linus batted his eyelashes in a rapid sequence before looking up at the man. He waited for O'Dea to ask even more questions.

O'Dea looked down and studied the papers that were lying in front of him. "How's your family?" He inquired with a straight face that never bothered to look Linus in the eye.

Linus sat for a moment or two before replying in a dry tone, "They're fine."

"How's Elizabeth?"

Linus contemptuously eyeballed

at the papers. "I'm serious, that's very good." He adamantly reiterated. "Detective, in your statement, you mentioned that you went over to Ms. Glover's residence last evening to secure Mr. Mercer for more questioning. But what I'm curious

Linus exhaled a long breath before muttering,

"A hunch," O'Dea spoke up. "What

that I had to wrap up, so to

to the other yesterday. From Ms.

"I visited the

was kidnapped and raped by Cummins?" O'Dea

Linus caught his breath and said,

"Why

"I wanted to see

in a sanctimonious fashion. "Well, I guess we could call you a nice detective, if nothing else. But

"He...he wasn't feeling well." Linus hesitated. "I decided

see, so you decided." O'Dea strongly emphasized at Linus. "So, not only are you a nice

at what was taking place before him; he expected every

decided to make your way over to Ms. Glover's residence to pick up Mercer.

eyes away from the inspector and directed them down at the desk. Right then, his

man!" O'Dea snapped, pounding his fists

"I never said

that out there? That is a medieval mob waiting for your blood to be shed! You shot a naked, weaponless, colored man with a twelve gage shotgun, a shotgun that was left in a cruiser

tirade, Linus remained still and composed as though nothing were

"What was the guy doing when you first busted your way into the house?" O'Dea anxiously inquired. "These are just some of the questions that the grand jury is going to throw your

of his seat and began to pace the

no secret that those people can't keep a relationship together longer than a one night stand. But the guy didn't have a single weapon on him, and somehow, Ms. Glover's finger was sliced right off.

wrecked and bloody body in his shivering

"There was a gun, but Mercer's fingerprints weren't found on the weapon. And yet, you decide to rampage into this house and blow this man away in a bathroom of all places. Jesus, I know you're fifty-three years old, Bruin, but do you mean to sit there and tell me that you can't overpower a naked

O'Dea would stop to stare down into Linus' white hair as though he were admonishing

The inspector rationally articulated. "I realize that you and I haven't gotten along too well over the years. I mean, we won't be exchanging Christmas cards anytime in the near future, but I've got both the D.A. and the Mayor breathing down my neck, and an entire town of colored hell-raisers wanting to burn down the city, all because you had

outburst momentarily while facing the caged window. It was all the better for Linus, he

happen to see some of the signs they got out there? One says, 'if it walks like a duck, and onks like a pig, then it's the fuzz.' The inspector sniggered, sounding tickled by the phrase. "They even managed to spell oinks wrong. Is any of this melting

Linus clinched his entire body while listening to the man endlessly drill on and on. It was all

well, and you just sit there." O'Dea then turned to the door and pointed, "Look out there, Linus. All those kids just waiting for one of us old farts to fall off of our perch. Hell, I've got a Mexican, or

Linus suddenly raised his head back up and opened his mouth. At first, no words came out, but after

in amazement and listened attentively at

did...last night was, was all

officer like yourself go down? Linus, you broke into a house and shot and killed an unarmed man. Something like this doesn't just up and go away overnight. Hell, it'll be on the CBS Evening News before you know it. This is all Cronkite needs to add yet another award to his already cluttered trophy chest. Unarmed black man shot dead in the buff, for no apparent reason other than he was beating his fiancée. Oh what a tragedy," O'Dea zealously satirized before nearing closer to Linus'

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