Stumbling bleary-eyed through the kitchen, Richard removed the coffee percolator from above the stove. He clumsily slammed it against the other items in the cabinet, then the door, then somehow managed to tip it over on the flat surface of the glass-top electric stove. He sighed and attempted to take a standing ten-second nap. It might have been morning, and he may have slept like the dead all night, but it wasn’t enough; he still felt exhausted. Last night’s epic adrenaline rush had long since departed, and filling the void was a soreness that seemed to go all the way down to his bones and out the other side. Automatic-drip wasn’t going to cut it this morning; he needed something stronger.

He watched the water slowly heat up to boiling. It had been so long since he percolated coffee on the stove, he managed to forget the main drawback – it required planning. Just over ten minutes to heat the water, fifteen minutes to brew, and six for the perking to settle down, added up to a profound need for patience, which was presently in short supply. At least the unrelenting summer heat meant the water would boil sooner. Richard poured yesterday’s coffee from the automatic-drip carafe into his cup and put it in the microwave. It would taste awful, but thankfully he was too sleepy to notice. He needed something now…although the aroma from the percolator, all by itself, was almost enough to draw out his cowering motivation.

He heard the phone ring. Searching around, he couldn’t place the location, and had no firm memory of where he’d left it. Looking down, he realized it was the vibrating thing near his chest. Sighing heavily, he removed it from his coat pocket and looked at the screen. It was Terry! No doubt, the police sergeant was calling to congratulate him on exposing the corrupt captain. He answered the call.

“Morning, Terry! How’s tricks?”

“We got another weird one for you. How soon can you get to Speedway and Adams?” There was no levity in Terry’s voice, just a grim sense of duty.

Richard felt deflated. What had happened to the police captain? Had the news not reached the department? Was he going to try to bluff his way out of trouble? After all he went through, was this going to amount to nothing?

He eyed the percolator hungrily. “Can you spare half an hour? I had a late night, and I haven’t quite come back to life yet.”

“No, that’s fine. We’ll still be on the scene. I should be on site by then.”

“Great! See you there!” But Terry had already hung up.

He looked down at his clothes. There was no time to take a shower, and no sense getting a clean suit dirty immediately. He disrobed quickly, wiped himself down with a wet washcloth, and splurged on fresh underwear and socks. A deluge of body spray would hopefully cover up anything he missed.

The timer for his percolator chimed its gratifying report; he poured a scalding cup into his travel mug and made for the door. The rest of the pot would have to wait.

He parked near the jumble of squad cars in a nearby parking lot; they were blocking the charging stations. He felt a sense of empowerment in his haphazard parking job, even camaraderie; this is what it felt like to be part of the police force. Jogging to the throng of officers he saw nearby, he suddenly stopped and gaped at what was on the sidewalk.

One of the officers noticed him. “Hey, little bro! Glad you could make it.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Richard continued to stare. “What the hell happened?”

The officer shrugged. “That’s why we called you. It doesn’t make any logical sense.”

Richard walked up to the two bodies. The fronts of their torsos were bloodied and bruised, but their backs seemed untouched.

One officer stepped forward and used his baton to lift their pant legs. “See this? Their ankles are broken, too.”

Another officer prodded each ankle with his baton. “Odd that the bruising stops so quickly. It barely even reaches the calf!”

“The autopsies will hopefully find something,” the officer continued, “but it looks like they died from blunt force trauma…damned if we know how. They could have jumped off a building and landed on their feet, but then more than their ankles would be broken. They could have landed face down, but there’s no blood on the ground…and no building tall enough to cause such deep injuries.” He pointed to the nearby single-story strip mall. “What is this, a pedestrian accident? A high-five gone horribly wrong?”

Richard pondered the scene. “It’s a puzzler, that’s for sure.”

A third officer began to snicker. The laughter intensified, and broke out into a bubbling giggle.

The first officer looked unsettled. “What?”

“An old joke just occurred to me,” he related. “George Carlin once said he figured out how to commit the perfect murder.” He clasped his hands together and swung them around as he continued. “You take one guy, and you kill another guy with him! That way, there’s no murder weapon!” He stood with his arms akimbo. “He even said it’d look like a pedestrian accident! But no one is that strong…or that tall.”

Richard chuckled. “Still, that makes more sense than anything else so far!” They all shared a laugh.

“Why are you wasting your time with that loser?” a gruff voice suddenly interrupted. Richard felt a chill; was the captain here? Everyone turned their heads to see Lieutenant Doyle storm toward them.

“He’s got a good track record of solving weird cases,” one officer piped up. “No harm done, Lieutenant.”

Doyle got in the officer’s face. “That’s Captain. And don’t you forget it.”

“Right, sir,” the officer agreed as the newly-promoted boss stormed away.

Richard thrilled; Captain Adeguti was out of the picture! Last night’s events might have been traumatic, but at least they weren’t for nothing!

“Hey, little bro!” he heard a voice call out. Richard turned to see Sergeant Terry approach from the parking lot; he gave a friendly wave.

Terry stopped and gaped at the crime scene. “The hell?”

“Yeah, that’s the general consensus so far,” Richard shared.

“No, I mean…why are the bodies uncovered? We usually try to spare the public such graphic details.”

“Oh…right.” One officer ran off to fetch a blanket.

“So why haven’t they been picked up yet?” Richard asked. “It seems like they’ve been here a long time.”

“The coroner’s backed up this morning,” Terry explained. “They said they’d get here as soon as they could. Until then, we have to keep the area secure.”

“Busy night, huh?” Richard asked.

Terry frowned. “The heat makes people crazy. Last night we had another wrong-way driver on the freeway. He managed to cream two other cars before hitting another one head-on. The coroner has to clean up that mess first.”

Richard winced. “And it’s not even August yet.”

An officer returned with a blanket and covered up the bodies. A gaggle of nearby onlookers moaned in disappointment and slowly dispersed.