The Carpet KillerMature

“Sick,” Det. Gibbs said.

“Doesn’t smell pretty either,” her partner added. Gibbs already wore rubber gloves; Lt. Patrick was rolling his on as he looked at the horizon. “Crap.”

“Lt?” Gibbs asked.


“Crap.” Both stepped away from the scene, reluctantly preparing to let the FBI claim the case.

“Agents Fritz and Sato, FBI ,” the men showed their badges, and rolled on rubber gloves.

“Jogger saw the rug, thought she’d look at the pattern. Saw the blond hair.” Gibbs' words were succinct, but they still left a bitterness in her mouth.

“The Carpet Killer,” Fritz spoke.

“It’s a rug,” Gibbs said.

“Credit the press for the name,” Sato told her. “They like aliteration.”

“Protection?” Fritz offered them booties so their feet wouldn’t contaminate the scene. “You two unroll the carp – the rug.” The officers did this slowly, gagging at the smell. “Check her mouth.” Patrick pried it open; Gibbs dug out plastic rosary beads. “Said her prayers.”

“Sick,” Patrick said. Then, eyes on the horizon again, he added, “Crap.”

“Lt?” Gibbs looked at him.


“Crap,” they all spoke in unison.


Det. Gibbs had the honor of talking to the press. Despite her feelings about them, she felt a rush of excitement when all of those people stopped talking and focused on her.

Then the fear set in.

She tried picturing them naked, but in several cases, that made her more afraid.

“Thank y’all for coming,” she read from the prepared statement, introduced herself and gave the same basic facts they’d broadcast over the air an hour ago.

“What color were the beads?” A reporter shouted halfway through her statement.

“I didn’t say that there were beads.”

“Det. Gibbs, there was a blond in a rug!” The reporter reasoned with her. Too damn many people know his MO, she thought to herself.

“This is more than he’s killed in the past couple of years, isn’t it?” A voice shouted.

“The killer does seem to be gaining confidence,” she spoke shakily.

“Do you think this is a copycat killer?”

“No,” she answered. “I cannot go into any further details,” she said. “That concludes this press conference. Thank y’all for coming.” She took her statement and walked away.

"Are you happy to be a brunette?” A male voice shouted from the back of the room.

Yes, she thought, especially since the beads were pink.

The End

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