What God, Chapter 3Posted: September 12, 2014
The next chapter of the novel What God, At this point, I might just release it chapter by chapter until I get to the end. Enjoy! What God Chapter 2
According to my watch the 30 minute drive had taken 3 hours. The side of my mouth was wet. I was sleeping.
Its amazing how much 3 hours of sleep feels like a hangover. The difference is that coffee and a hangover makes you feel accomplished, coffee and 3 hours of sleep feels like cheating. But I didn’t have any coffee, so I just felt like crap. Some days life doesn’t measure up to what the cereal boxes told me it should, but I don’t have any cereal.
We were parked outside of a nice house: professional landscaping, expensive Maseratti. And of course there were the cops. Most crime scenes tend to be pretty sparse. Usually you see a few cops on the tapeline and a small spattering of forensics and detectives. I walked up to the sergeant who drove me here and took his coffee.
“Chief Mala told me to let you sleep-” He started to apologize as I walked away. I was thankful, but not thankful enough to thank him. I raised my coffee to acknowledge that I had heard and kept walking.
Probably 150 cops, and only a third from my precinct. There were pockets of state police and a spattering of suits. Halfway through wondering why the circus came to suburbia the name Kraden found a place in my mind. Ex-CEO of Aethenmus, a biotech and pharmaceutical company, former state senator gearing up for the November election. He’ll be on the ballot to represent our great state in the House.
The suits were Secret Service. Damn it.
As much as I wanted to start in on the case, I wanted to step on the toes of the Feds even less. I scanned around for someone to give me the green light to do my job. Even thinking that left a poor taste in my mouth. A few seconds of looking found me Commissioner Levy arguing with a few of the suits. He was talking.
“I don’t see why you can’t just take the investigation over yourself”
The first suit, looking a little bit like a line-backer’s older brother, didn’t agree. “There is a protocol to these things Gordon, and it is there for a reason. I thought you’d be happy that we weren’t coming in to-“
“I just think that with who is on this-” I am not a man who likes to watch other men squirm. I interrupted him before he tried insulting me.
“I’m Detective Grant, this is my investigation. Its good to meet you” To the Agents. And to Levy, “Commissioner, its good to see you again.” Gordon Levy: the man who invented politics with a femur for a club and a yard of mammoth hide. He scowled at me.
“I’ll leave you to it, Grant” And he walked away.
Gordon Levy was one of the first people to advocate for my imprisonment after the Midtown shooting. When that failed he wanted me fired, then suspended, and then demoted. The only reason I wasn’t was Chief Mala and a few retired cops with some pull. I got lucky and I am not shy about saying so.
The linebacker shook my hand first, “Grant, it is good to meet you.” The agent next to him, a smaller and very nondescript man, also stuck out his hand.
I shook, “Should I just call you Agent, or do you-“
“I’m Hatterfeld,” The linebacker smiled, “Thats Smith.” Hatterfeld gestured to the small man beside him.
“I think, gentlemen, that I have a crime scene to get to,” Somewhat hoping that they wouldn’t follow me in.
“Keep us posted, Grant,” Said a southern drawl. It must have been Smith. I kept walking.