August 27, 2013

• Viewing a Job Well Done

  Making deals with the devil will never get you to heaven. That’s what my father would quip anytime one of my siblings would want to take a shortcut. It was drilled into my head at an early age that working hard was the only way to achieve approval and by default God’s favor. Dumbo was given the same speech so we were on the same page when it came to solving cases. We worked hard. There were no shortcuts. It paid off. The breasts had all been cured with salt and stored under refrigeration the same way you cure pork belly. The fat ratio was similar and so was the skin thickness. The only difference was that the killer had used iodized salt – table salt instead of curing salt. All the women we identified were prostitutes, drug addicts or runaways. They were the marginal women that no one would really miss since they were already missing or prone to long absences. We got our break when a beat cop found a girl in an alley. She was missing both breasts but wasn’t dead. After some emergency surgery, it was clear she was going to live and hopefully tell us all about it. My first interview with her was the day after surgery. The information she gave us was interesting. She had accepted a ride from a man driving a sports car – a Porsche. She remembered because she was very impressed with such a fancy car. He gave her an electronic cigarette and the next thing she knew she was laying on cement and in such pain that she kept passing out. The good thing was that she knew exactly when she had gotten into that car. The bad part was that it was 3 days before she was found.  With a potential witness and surviving victim, Dumbo and I doubled our efforts. Within 2 weeks we had zeroed in on a suspect and all the pieces started to fall into place. The original murders turned out to be the maid and her husband who happened to use the boss’ city place for a weekend getaway.  The boss owned a Porsche. His son was a surgeon without a medical license. Lucky for us the girl was able to pick the son out of a line up. With the apartment out of order, our psycho boob collector had used his own place. We found the girl’s breasts in his refrigerator. We let the lawyers take over and celebrated with a couple whiskey sours. I had given up caffeine and alcohol along with profanity. I’d tried to be more professional in hopes of getting a promotion or transfer so that Dumbo and I could “come out”.  I’m too old to get married. I enjoy a beer with my pizza and pulling double shifts without caffeine is brutal. So I’m going to hell but without regrets. I’ve decided to swear as often as I feel moved to do so. I’m going to have a beer or two or three whenever I have pizza, and Dumbo and I are going to go at it like rabbits whenever we get the chance. The only problem is trying to find some time. Maybe I should make some deals with some gods…

  Yeah, I know. So here is another 1 minute meditation (per prompt) without any editing. I usually don't go into the details but to please my mother and her need for closure, I've included some stuff to make her happy. I used the following prompts: #8 deals with the devil, #9 deals with the gods, #15 father, #18 table salt, #28 rabbit, #32 heaven, #35 whiskey, #36 regret, #40 belly. Because I have to finish all these prompts in August and there are only four more days after today - the next chapter in this story will be on Thursday!

  • 6:28 am
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