seen it all and then some, my friend,” Sergeant French told Mr. Jamison. The sergeant called out to another young police officer to follow him down the stairs and hold the big lamp as they went down the stairway.
“Holy hell, what is this place?” we could hear Sergeant French tell the young officer. The young officer was vomiting convulsively and had to come back up out of there. Sergeant French was rapidly ascending the stairs, hot on the heels of the young officer, and running off to the side, letting loose the vomit he had to let go of.
My friends and I were now curious as hell, and I told my friends I needed to have a look at all cost. I thought of grabbing a lantern that was still lit, sitting by itself, and just running down the stairs.
Blackie, who was so in tune with my thought patterns and facial expressions, gave me the nod like, “You’d better not do it.” By now, the place was crawling with FBI and the sheriff’s department, and even the fire department sent representatives to the scene.
There were so many people there that we were getting squeezed out further from the opening of the staircase. For an hour or so, we watched a variety of legal people make their way down the stairs only to see them running back up and over to throw-up central. It was the logical place to run to. When you ran out of the place, it would be the automatic place that catches your eye when you wanna lose your lunch.
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