"We're done here, Dr. Wilkins," an officer informed him. "We're taking the body back to headquarters, and you may further examine it there."
Wilkins tossed his cigarette, "Any other info on the body? Anything about the markings?"
The officer shook his head, "None, sir. Frankly, we were hoping you could tell us more about the markings. If you want my opinion, this was a classic cult suicide. Pure dedication, zero hesitation."
Wilkins furrowed his brow. "I don't buy it. Something doesn't smell right here."
"Spot on. I can't take the stench."
"I was referring to the situation, not the body for Christ sakes," sighed Dr. Wilkins.
"I know, but hey, at least we get to take this back to the chief. He will be happy to work with some new material, what with the divorce and all. I don't see how the man keeps it up. The woman practically castrated him."
"Tell me, officer, do you spill the chief's guts to every uninformed stranger you happen to meet?"
"What the hell do you mean 'cult suicide?' .... Markings, uh-huh ... okay, well just tell Felco to keep everyone calm until I get down there. Yep. Thanks, bye."
The phone clicked, and not a second passed before the black cruiser was up to 60 on the freeway.
God dammit. I seriously hope this has nothing to do with last night. Just what I need. Divorce, followed by zero child custody, followed by living at my mother's god-awful flat, followed by these midnight werewolf shenanigans. I'll be bald by the end of the month.
"COULD WE ALL PLEASE JUST CALM DOWN?!"
The room became a vacuum of silence immediately. That is, until Dr. Wilkins walked in.
"Thank you. Now, please continue about your normal business until the chief arrives. Dr. Wilkins and I will be around if something urgent comes up. Urgent, Phil, not including your kidney stones. THANK YOU."
Captain Felco walked briskly over to Dr. Wilkins. "Listen, the officers are shaken up by this whole thing. Weird reports are coming in and I think they have something to do with this murder - suicide - whatever the hell you wanna call it. Thing is, we need answers, and we don't have any."
Wilkins nodded, "I'll head to the lab. Were you able to ID this guy?"
"No. It's screwed up. The guy had no wallet, no ID, no cash, no fingerprints. Fingerprints, John!"
"I'll take a look."
Wilkins patted Captain Felco on the shoulder and headed back to the crime lab.
The chief tightened his tie as he walked through the automatic doors of the Chicago Crime Investigation Center. Officers and secretaries rushed to and fro, and the busy cacophony of telephones rung through the complex. The chief sighed.
I can already tell this is going to be a long day.
He presently entered the main CCIC office, where Felco stood monitoring the progress of the other officers.
"No, Phil, we do not pay medical leave for your ailment. I'm sorry, but even if we did, I would submit a request to the chief to deny it."
The chief put a hand on Felco's shoulder. "What's the latest, friend?"
"Ah, Chief Quincy Jordan himself! You are one spiffy man when you wanna be. Let's get you to the crime lab. Dr. Wilkins is already there."