We had been called in to the scene of a brutal homicide. After getting a feel for the scene we had moved to view the body and I felt a bit of a jolt - she was definitely not as pretty as she had been the last time I saw her, some seven years prior, but I definitely recognized her, and that sickened me a bit more than the entire grotesque scene.

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense, kid. Who is she?” My partner, Milt Cranmore replied.

The question stirred me from my reverie: “Unless she married and changed her name, that's Linda Gorman. I used to date her sister, before Carol married Vito Mercotti.”

“This going to make this too personal for you kid?” Milt asked, a little concern slipping into his normally emotionless voice.

“Sir, you taught me every murder is personal, this will not be a problem,” I answered. “I should probably be the one to break the news to Carol, though.”

“Maybe, but right now there seems to be something going on out front that needs your attention,” he said after considering my words for a second.

I could hear the argument out there getting more heated, nodded and, as quickly as I could to not disturb our crime scene, headed out to the front of the restaurant. The guys from the Medical Examiner's office arrived just as I got there, and I signaled for them to wait a moment. Two men, one a powerfully built guy with iron gray hair, the other a younger man with wavy black hair and a swarthy complexion were arguing with two uniformed officers stationed out front. Though I could only hear some of the argument, I knew the gist of it already and tuned out the actual words. “All right people, what seems to be the problem?” I asked, hoping that nobody caught the ironic hitch in my voice.

“These… gestapo aren't allowing me into my kitchen!” Gray hair bellowed.

The other man said something in rapid-fire Italian that I pretended to not understand, even though, growing up where I did, I spoke fluent Italian and Spanish, with a smattering of Portuguese and Polish for good measure. Besides, it seemed wise to ignore an insult to both my parentage and that of the uniformeds at the moment. “Sir, your kitchen is an active crime scene. If you could take a seat, I have a few questions for you before we can let anyone, except those three from the coroner’s office and the CSU team back there.”

“Coroner?!” The old man said, and then his eyes opened wide. “Not Linda!”

And that was when I realized I knew both men, though not well. The older man was the uncle of Linda and Carol, Lawrence Gorman. The younger man was Vito’s brother Dominic. This was not going to be easy.

“When was the last time you saw Linda?” I asked.

He gave a puzzled look before answering: “She offered to finish cleaning up so I could go home early last night,” Lawrence said. Then he looked at me more closely: “Jack? Jack Diamond?”

“Detective Diamond, yes,”

“It has been ages, Jackie boy! Detective? Maybe my niece picked the wrong boy after all. Can we see the body?”

“I'll have to check with the CSU guys and my partner - he has seniority here. But it's a mess. Might be able to share some of the photos first, to help steel you for it. Just sit tight, and I'l go check, OK?”

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Lawrence sat down, but I was pretty sure Domenic was going to follow me, “Dom,” I said, placing a hand on his shoulder, “I know you want to see, maybe to help, but I cannot have a civilian contaminating a crime scene. I should take prints from you and Larry and take down alibis, but right now I want to give you a few minutes of calm as a courtesy. It really is that bad.”

He then said something that surprised me - in Italian, he asked: “Do you remember?”

“Enough of the language to get by,”” I replied, also in Italian.

He gave me a weary smile. “Was there a lot of blood?”

I was surprised by the question and just nodded.

He had to repeat his next statement, slowly, for me to fully understand him, but on the second pass I knew: “When you catch the animals that did this, if you cannot put a bullet through their brains, call me.”

He then slipped me a business card. I had several questions that I wanted to ask, but a CSU guy was trying to get my attention.

“Scuse,” I told Dominic, and headed over to where CSU Lyle Rafferty was waiting. “The ME has cleared the scene, but you might want to show them the pics on my phone first. One thing - we know there were at least three people involved “

So, good news and bad news - we were not looking for one sick superhuman monster, but at least three sick subhuman ones. I nodded and returned to Dominic and Lawrence. “OK, guys, I'll need a list of everyone who has been in and out of this kitchen in the last week or so, and we will need to get elimination prints from all your staff and delivery people. Now I am going to show you some pictures so you can prep yourselves for the scene, but first I have to ask: do you know anyone who would particularly have an issue with Linda?”

“No, everybody loved her,” Lawrence replied.

“Maybe that one driver a bit too much,” Dominic added sarcastically.

“That’s good - he might be worth looking into. You have a name for me?”

We bantered a bit, and I showed them the photos the CSU had forwarded. Dom decided he did not need to see the scene after that, but Lawrence felt he had to, so I escorted him in while my partner and one of the techs took charge of Dominic.

He remained silent as he examined the kitchen. When he got to the stretcher holding the bag with most or all of Linda’s remains, he finally said something: “This will take a few days to clean up. Will be very bad for business. Did Dom ask you to bring the culprit or culprits down, hard? Put them in bags like this one?” He added, tapping a corner of the one on the gurney.

I nodded. “To be honest, I kind of hope they force me to, but I have a duty to arrest them if possible”

“Good. On both counts. Maybe kill one or two and bring the rest in alive,” he muttered, more to himself. Aloud he added; “May I see her?”

The ME’s assistant glanced at me, I gave a curt nod, and said: “Sir, she's pretty messed up. Steel yourself,” and reached for the zipper.

Lawrence took a step closer and watched the zipper moved down. Saw her once pretty face, smeared with blood and twisted into a look of terror, despite the closed eyes.

He cursed under his breath, in English, Spanish and Italian. Silently, I agreed with everything he said.

The assistant then said: “we're pretty sure a lot of the blood on her face is not her own. We won’t be certain until we get her in the lab, but think she bit one of her attackers.”

I thought the same thing that Lawrence said at this, though he said it with a touch of pride, “Good for her!”

I heard someone come up behind me. Whirling, I found my partner standing there. “Jack, I need to borrow Mister Gorman here for a bit. Unless you want to poke around here for a while, this might be a good time to handle that notification, and then meet me back at the station in, oh, an hour. Bring coffee.”

I nodded. “Black with lots of sugar, just like your women?” I asked. He clapped me on the shoulder and laughed, then escorted Larry Gorman back to the front of the restaurant.

I steeled myself for a trip into the past. What would it be like seeing her again after almost eight years?