Sinclair had been asleep for a couple of hours while Savat was sitting across the street. He was light years from reality; having enjoyed a mountainous helping of Devil’s Food cake prior to going to bed. The shielded walls had minimized the outside world’s constant bombardment, but had not eliminated it totally. Streams of random data continued to flow through the unobstructed window and there was the intentional gap directly above him. Moe continued to observe and report the daily activities as the siphoned bits highlighted not only Sinclair’s progress; but marked, all too vividly, his weaknesses.
"Boss, our boy is off on one his trips again.” Moe watched as the vast amounts of illogical characters paraded across the monitor.
“Thank you for calling. I was just about to come down and check on that file.”, talking into the receiver as he postured himself to his audience. He rolled the end of his cigar at the edge of a large brass tray. The last half inch of ashen leaf parted and fell quietly as it collapsed on itself; the finely compacted structure being unable to support itself. “I’ll get back with you later. I’m in a very important meeting with the Chief of Police”, he casually placed the handset down while continuing to hold eye contact with his guest.
“Sorry to have bother . . .”, the click of the phone being cradled ended the conversation, “ . . . ‘ed you, Boss.” Moe did not mind having been hung up on; it was part of the job. He lighted another cigarette and wrote down another entry on the “file”. He watched as Sinclair’s ramblings became even more absurd.
“LKDAFS034IKJNVDF98G3OI4LHKJANSDHN Pecaw . . .
Is that you Pecaw? 98747523UI45YOUIQYQET87SDGFY4399878
012778kpk What are you doing there outside the window?
The conversation was mixed with the enormous avalanche of mixed characters; which
made it easier to pick out his thoughts.
“Hush up Chowder Head. I’m trying to concentrate.” Pecaw often let loose a mild scold in such a way that it came out as a hug. He turned only slightly to wink in Sinclair’s direction.
GgUGj ioquweqlkj I hjhkladsfhkaj love keruihydiuhviahiwkj
hefkjhna you fhjakhfkabhyi too. uioiokadshfkhkh adjhfkjla_huiuyyyyyiuyllkl;====asodjfiquhqhhhwhwnamahjkh
ahkh1212424242141424144535353152515155245redqtrwr. . .”
“I know you do.” Pecaw was watching the activity in the parking lot below. “Looks like your old friend Sgt. Perry had some bad luck; yes Sir, some bad luck.”
“ . . guygugGGUuiuipoiIIHJOUIQKJHOElHLHAKAKJkhjkhkGHJKGA SHAKHKJAjhjkhkKHZHHihhIUHIhHhhhHUIETETReyPIP;HJGSRED
.. .. Good! hajsgdjgajGJKSKGHKHJGAHGHJASDJHQUIRI
That jalkjklj adjksjlakjfl sorry lkajsldjfljaljsdljfassholehasjkdhf hadskfjh . . .”
“Such foul language; I won’t have you talking about the dearly departed in that manner. It shows a lack of respect for the dead.” Pecaw was not one for swearing. The only thing that kept him from getting angry with Sinclair was the fact that Pecaw had been stationing himself nearby as a sentry. He looked back through the glass that separated his “being” from the room and chuckled to himself as he saw the reflection.
The lamps from the parking lot bounced beacons of light blue from his forehead. His hair was jet black with a regal sash of stunning gray to the sides. The squared edges of his brow peaked, “I suppose so.”, turning as the spirit of Sgt. Perry left his earthly body. Pecaw laughed to himself, “That’s one less sorry asshole after my grandson!”
Pecaw then thought for a moment as he glanced toward the window ledge and the room
directley above him, “You getting all of this Moe? ‘ Wouldn’t want you to miss anything
“I felt that thought.”, Sinclair rebounded as the idea passed his mind. “What did you mean when you said that Sgt. Perry was one of the dearly departed dead? What’s going on out there? Sinclair’s mind was still reeling from the chocolate rush as the thought process kicked into gear.
“Mr. Sanderson, sorry to bother you again. Something you need to know about just developed.” Moe had come to rely on the information that flashed out from Sinclair’s head. The words splashed onto the screen faster than a Wall Street ticker tape.
“Any time now you should be getting a call from security to inform you that a police officer, Sgt. Perry to be specific, has been run over and killed in our parking lot.” Moe continued to watch Sinclair’s thoughts as he held the phone to his ear.
“Thank you again, and yes my telephone line just flashed.” Sanderson picked up the other line and listened as the emotional guard gave an account of the terrible accident; nodding and acting surprised. Chief Denson’s driver, Officer Fernandez, knocked and entered without waiting, then walked purposefully to where the Chief was sitting. He leaned over and whispered the dread news, all at the same moment.
“I need to excuse myself Jack; one of our officers has just been involved in a terrible automobile accident.”
“Yes, I was just given the same information. It happened in the east parking lot a few moments ago. That was one of my security guards on the telephone. He was pretty upset by it all. Charlie, if you don’t mind, why don’t I go down there with you?”
Chief Denson looked to his driver who nodded his head with a short bobbing motion;
indicating the information was accurate.
“I’d rather you didn’t Jack. I will need to focus all of my attention on the investigation. Let me get back with you after I’ve had a chance to assess the situation.”
Chief Denson held eye contact as the two executives acknowledged the need to carry out
their respective responsibilities.
“You’re right; I’d only be in the way. I’ll make sure that all my people cooperate in the fullest. Let me know if there is anything . . .”
“Thanks Jack; I will.”, turning to Fernandez to change the subject. “Who’s in charge at this time?”
“I was told that an off duty Homicide unit was the first unit; a Sgt. J.D. White is holding the scene for now.” The two exited the executive offices and made their way to the parking lot. Several marked units had set up a perimeter as they made it across to the crime scene. A steady tide of blue uniforms came by as if to bid farewell, not really having an official reason to be in the area. A few more minutes passed and the investigative units from Homicide and I.A.D. began to filter in, polyester suits holding clip boards and tape measures mapped out the entire area.
“Chief Denson, I’m J.D. White. I was the first unit here. He had just been run over and the suspect was leaving as I pulled in. I put out the G.B. and tried to follow; but he was already out of sight by the time I figured out that anything had happened to begin with.” J.D. felt uncomfortable as he continued to brief Chief Denson. “I was here to visit a friend of mine. I never got a look at the suspect, only that he was in an old white Chevy Caprice; looked like a Caprice, or something similar.”
“Did you have any conversation with Sgt. Perry before he died?”
“Not really much that he said. He did comment that he had gotten rusty, that’s about all he said. I don't think he saw much.” J.D. paused for a moment then added, “He didn’t look like he was in much pain. I know that sounds improbable under the circumstances, but he had a look about him that just . . . I don’t know . . . peaceful, something like that.”
“Sgt. White, I know this has been a stressful event for you too; but I want you to go over this with Lt. Stromberger as well as the I.A.D. team. You can come in tomorrow and type up your official statement.” Chief Denson patted J.D. on the back as he walked over to where the body lay covered with a pale blue paper sheet. A pool of thick blood crept out and away from the under the edge of the body blanket. There were flashes from the investigator’s cameras. The Chief pulled back the corner of the blanket. The television news teams were close enough that the whole grizzly scene was brought into focus. The early morning news casters would have some fresh garbage to splash across the screen.
“We’re ready to load the body now. Who’s in charge of the personal effects?” The Medical Examiner looked to the Chief.
“Lt. Stromberger is in charge of the Homicide investigation and will take an inventory of those items.” Chief Denson turned to make sure that the suggestion was understood.
“I was just about to do that Chief.” Lt. Stromberger bent down and began removing items while talking into a micro-mini tape recorder. “Top left suit pocket contained one silver tone Cross ball point pen, two cigars in metal canisters . . .” Each item was listed on a sheet of paper by another detective; I.A.D. looked on and kept notes of their own. “ . . . one five and a quarter inch computer data disk, one Day Planner, assorted papers of a personal nature . . .” The inventory continued as each item was listed and bagged.
“Was Sgt. Perry working on an assignment or was he here on his own?” Chief Denson's question was directed toward Lt. Davis who represented the Internal Affairs Division.
“I don’t have any information on that at this time Chief. It will take a while to go through his files before that can be determined.”
“He may have been.” J.D. broke in hesitantly, not wishing to speak out of turn.
“Go ahead Sgt. White, we’re listening.” Chief Denson and the respective investigative heads waited for his reply.
“Well. . .”, clearing his throat and wishing he didn’t have to speak, “ . . . I was coming here to visit officer Dosilmeyer, an old partner of mine. He’s here recovering from an injury on duty that Sgt. Perry was investigating.” The Chief looked at the body being loaded into the black Suburban body car.
“It would be nice for his family if we could cover this as a duty related death.” He pondered for a moment as the situational requirements fell into place.
“Sanderson here, did anyone visit the file room tonight Moe?”, tapping his fingers.
“That’s kind of hard to say, yes and no.” Moe was having a hard time trying to explain Pecaw’s Spirit.
“Moe, this is not like you. I want to know who, if anyone, entered the room and what they did while they were there.”
“No. . .body , that is nothing with a body entered the room boss. I think there was a ghost of something, but nobody.”
“Then Sgt. Perry never went in to the room?”
“Sgt. Perry? Oh, no sir; I’d have seen him for sure. No, Sgt. Perry never went in the room.”
“What’s this nonsense about a ghost?”
“It’s all on the tape sir; honest.” Moe was still working on a way to explain what he had observed.
“I’ll be up there in a while. Try not to go off the deep end.” Sanderson clicked the phone off and immediately called another number. There was a subtle change, his confidence level was not as high. He waited for a moment as the line was picked up on the other end. A familiar beeping tone alerted him that he had reached a recording machine.
“ . . . please leave a short message and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible. Beep. . . beep.”
“Lou this is Jack. That file is still open and the I need to talk regarding how to proceed. Get with me in the morning.”