A Christmas Story in 8 Parts: Part 2
Dec. 26th, 2004 10:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
franceslievensPart 1
“Well sir, the neighbours said – and I quote – ‘they heard the pitter-patter of tiny feet echo through the room’. The kids added you could hear it even better when you pressed your right ear against the carpet of their bedroom.” Detective Gavarni grunted something that could have been an appreciation for a job well done, or might as well be a reprimand for interrupting him during his investigation of the crime scene. The constable didn't stay to find out. You didn't interrupt the fat guy, unless he specifically told you so. And then you were spoken to first.
Gavarni wiped the crumbs of some mediocre sponge cake from his mouth with the back of his right hand. He had found it in the fridge. Evidence or not, you shouldn't let sponge cake go to waste, even mediocre ones. He surveyed the room where the body was found. This wasn't a ritual murder, but a ritual slaughter. The poor bloke's entrails adorned the room like Christmas decorations. “The only thing missing are the flickering lights,” the detective thought. You must be more than a little sick in the head to come up with this. More so, this being the forth victim they had found over the weekend, they needed to find the lunatic fast. Gavarni looked at the ID in his hand. “Donnie Drake, why was it you they were after?”
“Sir?” The detective looked up from his ponderings by the victim's body.
“Yes?”
“Sir, it seems some of the Christmas decorations are missing, sir.”
“So they are…”
“Yes sir, the neighbours say he had some stuff hanging outside and it's gone.”
Only now Gavarni saw the face of the constable standing next to him. It was some skinny kid, fresh from academy. Hadn't seen anything in his life. Wanted to impress. “So they say, do they?” Gavarni gave the lad his foulest look and marched to the door, pushing the constable aside. “Tell forensics they can clean the place up. I've seen enough.”
“Well sir, the neighbours said – and I quote – ‘they heard the pitter-patter of tiny feet echo through the room’. The kids added you could hear it even better when you pressed your right ear against the carpet of their bedroom.” Detective Gavarni grunted something that could have been an appreciation for a job well done, or might as well be a reprimand for interrupting him during his investigation of the crime scene. The constable didn't stay to find out. You didn't interrupt the fat guy, unless he specifically told you so. And then you were spoken to first.
Gavarni wiped the crumbs of some mediocre sponge cake from his mouth with the back of his right hand. He had found it in the fridge. Evidence or not, you shouldn't let sponge cake go to waste, even mediocre ones. He surveyed the room where the body was found. This wasn't a ritual murder, but a ritual slaughter. The poor bloke's entrails adorned the room like Christmas decorations. “The only thing missing are the flickering lights,” the detective thought. You must be more than a little sick in the head to come up with this. More so, this being the forth victim they had found over the weekend, they needed to find the lunatic fast. Gavarni looked at the ID in his hand. “Donnie Drake, why was it you they were after?”
“Sir?” The detective looked up from his ponderings by the victim's body.
“Yes?”
“Sir, it seems some of the Christmas decorations are missing, sir.”
“So they are…”
“Yes sir, the neighbours say he had some stuff hanging outside and it's gone.”
Only now Gavarni saw the face of the constable standing next to him. It was some skinny kid, fresh from academy. Hadn't seen anything in his life. Wanted to impress. “So they say, do they?” Gavarni gave the lad his foulest look and marched to the door, pushing the constable aside. “Tell forensics they can clean the place up. I've seen enough.”
