threshold of the church, the first thing he noticed was the smell. It was a combination of mothballs and death. He ignored the detectives and uniformed officers whose eyes followed him as he trailed Captain Marx into the chapel. Once there, it only took a second for him to spot it. Every other eye in the room was turned to it too. There was a series of flashes as a medical examiner snapped pictures of the crime scene from different angles. Suspended above the altar of the church was obviously what had Captain Marx so rattled.
The victim was a Caucasian man who looked to be somewhere in his late fifties, though it was hard to tell for sure considering his condition. He was suspended from the ceiling by chains, like a side of beef in a butcher’s freezer. Wolf could see where the steel hooks snaked beneath his skin, stretching it so much in some spots that it looked like it was about to tear away from his body. The blood-soaked white collar around his neck said that he was a priest, or at least he had been before someone strung him up. Now he was just meat dripping onto the wood floor.
“Nasty piece of work, isn’t it?” Captain Marx said.
“More like sick! Who would carve up a priest like that?” Wolf asked.
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out. Father Fleming was a good man. No enemies to speak of.”
“You mean no enemies that you know of. Nobody gets dusted for nothing, especially not a priest. What kind of fucked-up individual would do something like this?”
“I was hoping that you could tell me.”
“Me?” For the last few years Wolf had been working in narcotics. Homicide wasn’t his bag.
Before the Captain Marx could clue him in, they were interrupted by two approaching men. The first was dark-skinned, with a tapered Afro and wearing a wrinkled green suit. The second was a tall Latino man dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved white shirt. Gold badges were visible on both of them.
“What’s he doing here? This isn’t a drug case,” Detective Brown, the one with the Afro, said.
“Blood always brings the wolves out,” Wolf responded, just to get under the detective’s skin. There was no love lost between the two.
“Well, no pets are allowed in here, so why don’t you let your master take you for a walk, dog,” the second man, Detective Alvarez, said before crossing his heavily tattooed arms.
Wolf’s brow furrowed. He was being tested. “If you’re trying to be funny, I got a joke that I wanna share too, only you have to step outside for me to tell it.”
“What’re you gonna do, shoot us and try to put it down on the books as righteous, like you did your last partner?” Detective Brown said scornfully. It was a low blow and he knew it.
Before Wolf realized what he was doing, he lunged for Detective Brown. The two detectives began tussling, with Wolf wrapping his hands around Brown’s neck, trying to choke the breath from his body.
“Enough!” Captain Marx tried to pull the men apart, but they were locked onto each other like pit bulls. It took the combined efforts of Marx and Alvarez to separate them.
“Smile, officers!” someone called out. When they turned around, a photographer who had slipped into the church began snapping pictures.
“Who let him in here? Get that son of a bitch out of here and confiscate that damn camera!” Captain Marx raged. Two uniformed officers grabbed the photographer and dragged him from the church. “Have the both of you lost your fucking minds?” He looked back and forth between the two scrapping detectives.
“Your boy has got a smart fucking mouth,” Wolf said, staring daggers at Detective Brown.
“Then why don’t you come and close it for me?” Brown challenged.
Wolf took a step in his direction, but Captain Marx blocked his path. “Don’t push your luck with me, Jimmy. I’m still your boss.”
“James,” Wolf grumbled.
Captain Marx ignored him and turned to Detective Brown. “Why don’t you take a walk and cool off.”
“You can’t be serious,” Detective Brown said.
“Captain, with all due respect, this is our crime scene,” Detective Alvarez declared.
“And it’ll still be your crime scene when you get back,” Captain Marx replied.
Detective Alvarez wanted to argue, but he knew it would be pointless: Marx outranked him. “Come on, you know we ain’t got no wins when it comes to the captain’s pet dog.” He patted Detective Brown on the chest, and led him to the door.
Detective Brown was so angry that you could almost see steam rising from his head. Before he left the chapel, he stopped short and stared at Wolf. “One of these days the captain isn’t going to be around to save your ass. If you’re not careful, you might find yourself the victim of friendly fire, just like Dutton.” He winked at Wolf and left the room.
“Are you intentionally trying to get yourself kicked off the force?” Captain Marx asked Wolf once the other two detectives were gone.
“Hey, if I have to lose my job because I won’t let assholes like Brown disrespect me, then so be it.”
“So what, you gonna sock everybody in the chin who says something hurtful to you? If that’s the case, you’re gonna have a whole lot of fighting to do.”
Wolf snorted. “I been fighting all my life, that ain’t nothing new. You of all people should know that.”
“Yeah, kid. You’re a fighter, and I’ve seen you put quite a few people on their asses, but there’s one you’ve never been able to beat.”
“Bullshit, I never lost a fight in the ring!” Wolf countered.
Captain Marx placed his hand on Wolf’s shoulder. “I’m not talking about the ring, kid, I’m talking about that ghost you keep swinging at and can’t seem to hit. When are you gonna let it go?”
Wolf wished it was that simple. He wished he could put what he was feeling in the bottom of a file cabinet with the official report, that he could wash away the evils of the job in booze like most cops did, but blood didn’t wash off him so easily. “I know you didn’t call me here to discuss my service record. What gives, captain?” he asked, ignoring the question.
“I was hoping you could help give me some insight into what we’re dealing with.” Captain Marx nodded toward the dead body. “At a glance, how would you call it?”
Wolf walked to the edge of the police tape and examined the body. “The blood splatter patterns are what I would look at first,” Wolf began. “You see the way the ones around the body are drying already and the ones pooling under the body are still wet? They’re older, and from the way they’re spraying away from the body,” he pointed to the faint splotches of blood just beyond the police tape, “I’d say he was hung on the chains while he was still alive. His throat was cut later. The killer wanted him to suffer, which means it was personal and not some random killing.”
Captain Marx nodded. “Very good. It’s nice to know that there’s still a cop hiding somewhere beneath that chip you’re carrying around on your shoulder.”
