The Curse of 1977 (Book 2)

It was hot, but the heat was somewhat stymied by the clouds that loomed heavy in the humid sky that morning as police officers milled about the gruesome crime scene in the alley on the south side of the town.

The Cadillac was a complete wreck, from its smashed windshield, to the blood soaked seats, both front and back, all the way to the back window which was destroyed as well. Still settled inside the driver's seat was Wendell's body, the only difference was that his mutilated head was lying on the passenger's seat beside him. His body, from the chest all the way down to his legs had been eaten away. Only scant shards of his clothing, along with bits and pieces of flesh that was scattered all over the car remained.

Inspector Ortega climbed out of his brown sedan and straightened his brown tie as he made his way over to the scene. All along the alleyway were the usual onlookers and gawkers, most of which resided in the neighborhood. The entire commotion was blocked off by a yellow tape barricade.

Ortega used only his badge to get past the officers before ducking under the tape and curiously making his way over to a pudgy white man who was prying his way inside the vehicle.

Ortega, trying his best not to step into any puddles of blood that was on the ground, approached the individual from behind, and in a chipper voice said, "Looks like we got one heck of a dilemma on our hands here."

Unresponsive to the man's words, the pudgy man, with his ample rear poked out for the world to see, just kept on at his detail.

Somewhat perturbed by the man's ill-gotten silence, Ortega sucked in his gut and announced a bit louder, "I said—

"I heard what you said the first time." The man inside the car huffed. "It's too hot for cliché's."

"I uh, I was just wondering what took place here."

"And you are?" The pudgy man asked in a muffled voice.

"Inspector David Ortega," he said out loud.

Almost immediately, the man pulled his girth from out of the vehicle and approached Ortega with only a pair of forceps in his right hand.

"Oh, so you're the new inspector." The man reacted, a bit taken off guard. "The name's Brice. Patrick Brice. I'm the forensics officer here."

"Good to meet you, Mr. Brice." Ortega said as he glanced around the scene for a moment before turning back to Brice.

"I was told that the new inspector wouldn't be starting until next month." Brice pushed his eyeglasses back onto his face.

"Yeah, well, I was never one for punctuality."

O'Dea yet, by

Ortega just squared his eyes at Brice. "I've been getting a lot of flak on Inspector O'Dea ever since I first got here. What gives

just continued to grin before turning around to the car and reaching for a few papers

the car to see the maimed cadaver. The sight was both ghastly and somewhat sad for the man. Sad, until he noticed pills

around, Brice replied

which was split

could say that." Brice said in

he came to the passenger's side.

walked over to Ortega. "No, not yet," he said. "But lucky for them,

a

wary stare he could give before saying, "With all due respect, Inspector, this was more than just

"Really," Ortega perked up. "What, do dealers here in Cypress use wild animals to kill off

just where are

"Chicago."

"And tell me, have you ever seen anything like this in Chicago before,

then exhaled. "But then again, ever since I've arrived here

that very moment, it was like someone had ringed the loudest bell in Brice's face. The man dropped his forceps and papers to the ground before coming face to face with Ortega in

there that

said, "Yeah...it was pretty

immediately took Ortega by the arm and led him as far away from the car as possible, even further away

on?"

"You saw that

" Yeah, yeah I saw it."

I was in Martha's Vineyard visiting my dad and stepmother, but everyone I ask down at the station is keeping quiet about it. I need to know what it was you saw

that morning was something

was six feet. Six feet wide or

Ortega peered strangely into Brice's wild eyes. "Look, what

Inspector, so it wouldn't surprise you that most dogs don't grow to six feet. Doesn't that strike you as

"Perhaps, but then again, it could've escaped