[Author’s note: This is where you write a story, poem, even essay based on a photo. I have placed the photo a little further down in the story, but you are free to write what you want based on the photo. The photo is mine, so if you use in a blog or other publication, please give me credit: David E. Booker. Thanks.]
by DAVID E. BOOKER
It was almost the end of his shift when homicide detective C. Sparks got the call to go to possible homicide on East S. Ave. He had plans for his evening, a nice dinner with the victim of another murder case he had worked and solved only three weeks ago. The widow was so grateful that after four months he had not given up on the case and actually figured out who the murdered was and built a solid case with which the D.A. could easily prosecute … and win.
He turned from N. Center St. onto East S. and saw a blue SUV in the middle of the road, a prowl car on the other side of it. Both were in the middle of the street. Both were holding up traffic.
Detective Sparks pulled up behind the SUV. No, he’d block traffic from the N. Center side. He opened his car door and stepped out. The summer heat, even the evening version, was more than any reasonable person should stand, particularly – especially because it was being reflected back up by the baked street asphalt.
The beat cop was talking to a very animated man. Sparks glanced around. There was no body. There were no crime scene technicians. What the hell was going on? Was there a body or was somebody just trying to get him?
The beat officer saw him about the same time he saw her. She broke away from the animated man and met Sparks about halfway from his car to the blue SUV.
“What’s this about?” He looked at the name plate above left breast pocket, then added, “V. Slims.”
“It’s Virginia. Most people call me Virgy.”
“Okay. Virgy, what’s up?”
“This man claims he turned the corner on the E. Scott and out of nowhere this man appears, stops in the middle of the road to light a cigarette and before he could anything, he ran into the guy. He was sure of it. But then he stopped the car and got out and the guy was gone.”
“Yeah, it was as if he disappeared in a cloud of smoke,” the man said.
He had walked up and Sparks hadn’t noticed. Sparks knew then he had been working too many hours.
“And you are?” Sparks asked.
“Leonard M. Bold,” Officer Gordon said. “I checked his ID when rolled I up.”
“Most people call me Leo,” Bold said, extending his hand.
Sparks stared at it for a moment before taking it.
“What were you doing on this street,” Sparks asked.
“I’m in real estate and was driving through this historic neighborhood seeing if there were any houses for sale. See who has them listed. I have a client who might be interested in a historic house.”
Sparks nodded. He then walked up and around the SUV. No sign of dents or broken headlights, or any indication that it had even collided with a house fly let alone a body. The SUV gleamed so brightly, it even hurt his eyes to look at it.
Up In smoke
He raised his hand to shield his eyes from the sun and that’s when he saw it. Lying on the ground by a front tire, a pack of cigarettes, partially opened.
He squinted a little harder to make out the brand of cigarettes: L, M, Bold. He looked up at the man, then back down at the cigarettes, then up at the man again.
“This is a joke, right? You think you’re funny, calling me out here, Leonard M. Bold.”
“But it’s true, what I said.” Leonard walked over to where Sparks was.
“Yeah, right.” Sparks looked over at Slims. “How much you in on this, Virginia Slims? If that’s your real name. What the hell is going on here.”
Sparks was angry, but even he was surprised when sparks started flying out of his mouth. The first ones hit Officer Virginia Slims and she caught on fire and was burning up. This couldn’t be happening. He turned to look a Leonard, who was already running away.
Sparks yelled after him and flames shot out of his mouth and hit Gold squarely in the back. Gold caught on fire like a book of matches or a pack of cigarettes.
The air smelled like burned tobacco, and Sparks realized how much he actually missed smoking. Even after six years, the craving still seized him every now and then. Right now it was suddenly so strong he might just kill for a cigarette.
