She Talks to Angels -A reading from the upcoming book “Abracadabra”

 

“Right over here detective,” the motorcycle patrolman motioned Chief Homicide Detective Plano to the car containing a body.

 

Detective Plano sipped his coffee as he walked over and peered into the automobile. “Christ!” he exclaimed. Inside was a body with its pants down to its knees. But only the torso was in the driver’s seat.

 

“Where is his head?” Plano asked.

 

In the passenger’s seat detective,” the officer answered.

 

Looking up from the body Plano straightened up and began to circle the car to the passenger side. As he did, he asked the patrolman, “Any witnesses?”

 

“Two kids over there up here looking for love.”

 

“Looking into the passenger window Plano said, “Well,  we seem to have gathered most of the parts.” Johnson’s decapitated head rested in the passenger seat, facing forward, with a rose stuck in his mouth.

 

“Yes sir. We’re waiting for forensics to work with that.”

 

“Are they going to put it back on?”

 

 Examining the passenger’s area, being careful not to touch anything until forensics arrived, Plano noticed something out of place hanging from the rear-view mirror.

 

“What’s that?” He said, straining to get a better look in the dim morning mountain light.

 

“Uh, that would be the gentleman’s testicles sir. Looks like a crime of passion to me.”

 

“You think?” Detective Plano said and he added “Somebody removed the right eye.”

 

“We couldn’t find that, sir,” the patrolman said.

 

“Took coup,” Plano said. Indians did it in battle where they’d touch an enemy with a stick or something. Like a way of telling the guy, ‘Got cha! Could’ve been today. Big insult in their culture. Seems like this guy took coup 2.0! Guess it was today.”

 

“Ute Indian perhaps,” the patrolman guessed.

 

“Or Navajo,” Plano said. He paused and said, “I was being facetious Jimmy. Indians just run casinos now.”

 

Looking back at the head the detective said, “Scalped him too. This idiot must’ve screwed the wrong daughter, sister, or wife. Do we know who he is yet?”  

 

“His wallet was missing, but I ran the plates.”

 

“And?”

 

“Car belongs to one Anthony Johnson.”

 

“Fuck me!” Plano exclaimed.

 

“What?” the patrolman asked.

 

“Johnson is or was the Principal of Joseph Smith High. I take back what I said about this being because of our victim’s action on the killer’s sister. Make that kid sister. All these school ma’arms like the little girls.”

 

“I guess.”

 

“You know who I think done it?” Plano asked.

 

“Who sir?”

 

“Judging by the rose . . . Jealous wife!”

 

As he started back to his car drinking his coffee, he walked past the surrounding rocks about twenty feet from the car. Noticing a brownish smear on an outcrop of rocks that upon closer inspection revealed a small palm print. On the ground he found a crumpled piece of paper. Upon picking it up he discovered that something was inside the paper. Unwrapping it he found a bullet. A .45 Long Colt. Holding the bullet in one hand and the paper in the other he read, “Anjo Vingador!” Looking around to make sure he was unobserved, Plano the paper and bullet into his pocket he saw the forensics crew just arriving, and nodded his head in understanding. “The Avenging Angel,” he said to himself. Glancing around again to make sure he was unobserved, Detective Plano, Chief of Homicide Investigations Division poured his black coffee upon the stain and continued to his car!

 

Stepping from the gathering crowd, a woman in her twenties called out, “Detective?”

 

Turning, Plano evaluated the woman. “Yes?”

 

A woman in jeans with a sweater tied around her waist and a legal pad said. “I’m from the Salt Lake Expositor. May I ask you a couple questions?”

 

“Thought you would be BYU. Please make it brief. And please remember this is an ongoing investigation,”

 

“I understand. What I’d like to know is do you think this is a ritual or cult murder?”

“

 

“Now why would I think something like that?”

 

“I saw the head detective. Reminiscent of Brigham’s boys, wouldn’t you think?”

 

 

“If you could get them in a Time Machine, “Plano said.

 

“Like maybe ‘Danite?’’

 

“Oh please! Are you sure you’re not BYU?”

 

As she circled around his car, she opened a thermos that she was carrying, refilling his cup. “Cold morning. This should warm you up. I saw you spill your coffee over there!”

 

As their eyes met, he remembered that face having cheesecake with him. “Do I know you?”

 

“No.”

 

As he sipped the coffee Plano said, “Cheesecake?” She answered him with an icy stare.

 

“By the way,” Plano continued, “Danite is an old church myth.”

 

 

The police officer came over before Plano could drive away. “The team wants to remove the body for the autopsy.”

 

 

“Leave the body in place. I want a look-see,” Detective Plano said,”

 

“Ok. You want me to use the next tow on the rotation?”

 

“No. I’ll call Flaming Sword towing. This is too much for just anyone.”

 

“Where to?”

 

“I’ll tell them.” As Plano got into his car the patrolman walked away as Plano called Flaming Sword Towing and Disposals. Turning to the reporter he asked, “Will there be anything else?”

 

“No. You’ve been very helpful detective. Thank you for your time.”

 

“Thank you for the coffee.”