Accused, R.T. Adams [easy readers TXT] 📗

Nineteen sixty four, the eighth of October. He had been detained, the long hidden “Corporate Bomber.” Corporate Bomber’s name implies exactly what it looks like, a man who blows up corporations. He’s been on the list of criminals to detain, but it took seventeen years before we finally caught wind of his hideout, then another month after that to capture him. Now, he’s in San Quentin State Prison, awaiting his death penalty. On paper, he’s destroyed roughly twenty-three corporation buildings, killing about forty to fifty people per building. Overall, he’s killed over one thousand people alone. However, this is only in the records. In reality, his numbers are completely hidden. No one, even himself, knows how many buildings he’s destroyed or how many people he’s killed. It was only three days ago that he was here, face-to-face with me. I was to interrogate him, to find out exactly how many people he’s killed and how many buildings he’s destroyed, along with any other of his potential subordinates and his motive for doing it. He stated he has no subordinates, and that his motive was “it was fun.” People like him disgust me. Killing innocents because they think it’s fun. How do you get off doing that? Killing is not fun, it’s cruel. Other from that subject, I’ve been assigned a new case. The captain stated that I was to investigate at a McDonald's in San Francisco, as three people had been murdered, along with seventeen injured. The only details I have are that and that the cause of the injuries and deaths was a shooting. I don’t see the reason for someone to shoot up a McDonald’s, but it wasn’t acceptable.

By the time I arrived, I found police tape around the scene, as well as police loitering around. I entered the building, ducking under the yellow tape. I looked around for the captain, but I didn’t see him around. Usually, the captain wouldn’t be wandering off in a different location, knowing I had been set on a case. The captain persists on telling me about the case any time I’m put on one. If he’s wandered off elsewhere, there’s something definitely strange. I walked over to the three corpses, covered in white tarps to hide the probably hideous sight from any citizens. I ducked down and lifted one of the tarps, examining the body. I found a man with three bullet holes in his body. One in the head, one in the breast, and one in the left arm. There was a dirt footprint on his left leg, assuming he had been kicked to knock him down. After all, he looked like a fairly hefty man. I examined for anything else, but came up with nothing. I released the tarp, walked over to the second body, and lifted the tarp. Under it, a woman lay there, a single bullet hole in her left-side breast as well as a stab wound in her stomach. With the set of events, I presume she had been stabbed, then shot. There would be no reason for the murderer to attack a dead body. Examining further, she was missing a shoe, but for what reason? I examined her foot, but nothing came out of it. I laid the tarp back down, then moved to the third body. The last of those who had been murdered. I lifted the tarp and found something I would not have expected. I found Captain Jarold Harkins, the captain himself. It wasn’t a pretty sight to see. I could tell he put up a fight. He had been shot twice in the right arm, once in the left leg, and three times in the right leg. He had several stab wounds in his torso, as well as a dent in his head, presumably from a metal bar. When I dug further into this, I found something within the dent in his head. I found paint. I suppose paint had came off the object he had been hit with. It seemed like a very small amount, impossible to see if one had only skimmed over his body. The blood wasn’t coming out anymore, but the blood wasn’t dry, unlike the other bodies. It would seem that the captain was murdered more recently than the other two. I covered the captain’s body up and looked down at my chest, finding the necklace I had once been given by the captain. I unclipped the necklace from my neck and placed it ontop of the tarp in which his body had been hidden under. I stood and turned, looking at the two nearest officers, giving them both a nod to resemble I had finished my current investigation of the three bodies. Now, however, I had to find other things around the building. I examined each wall, the floor, the ceiling, the tables, anything I could to uncover anything possible. On the north wall, I found a blood stain, along with a small chunk of brain laying on the floor. On the west wall, I found another blood stain. Near the bathrooms, I found a metal bar lying upon the ground, with blood on it. When I looked at it, the paint was that of which was on the captain. Once I continued to look around more, I found nothing. Our best evidence by far was the metal bar. I walked back over to the two officers and explained all that I had currently found. Once I left the building, I headed directly to the police department. It would seem that no one had information about the captain yet.

“Detective, how’s your day?” one of the officers looked over to me and spoke.

“Doesn’t seem like it’s leading on to a good one,” I replied.

“How so?” he asked.

“The captain,” I said, “He’s one of the victims of my most recent investigation.”

“The captain?” he said, “You mean, Captain Harkins?” He looked around at the rest of the people in the building. The ones who had heard turned to us, then turned to others to spread the word.

“Detective, is this some kind of joke?” one of the officers that were seated stood and spoke.

“I’m afraid not,” I said, “Captain Harkins was killed in the incident of the McDonald’s shooting. October eighth, nineteen sixty four. Harkins lived a life of fulfillment, giving joy to many, as well as justice.” I bowed my head for a short period of time, then turned my back towards them.

“I can’t believe it,” I heard chatter coming from behind me. Sorrow floated in the air, gloom filled their hearts. What could I say, they lost their most loved member of the force. I walked forward, to the door, exiting the building.

The loss of a close friend is painful, but we all move on, some sooner than others. However, what can I say? Everyone, no, everything dies at some point in time. Given enough time, we will all die. I fear only one thing, time. Time is truly scary. With enough time for anything, you don’t know what will come. One moment, you could be celebrating the victory of a battle, the next, everyone could be slaughtered by an oncoming force of bomber planes. Time is truly terrifying. However, it exists. I decided to head back to my apartment to examine the evidence I had found. The blood stains on the walls, where the bodies were when they had been killed, the metal bar, and the paint on the captain’s head. There wasn’t much to work off of. Just then, while I had been looking over the evidence, my phone rang. I looked over to the phone and picked it up.

“Hello, Detective Lavine,” I said.

“Hello there, Detective,” an unfamiliar voice came from the other end, “Looking into that recent incident?”

“That’s classified information, who are you?” I said.

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that,” he said, “You best watch your back, Detective, or you’ll regret it.” Then, they hung up. A new piece of evidence, a mysterious phone call from an unknown source. Still, this lead us nowhere in our search. I received another phone call shortly after that. When I picked it up, I heard the voice of an officer.

“Detective, we have information about the metal bar, but it’s nothing you’ll want to hear,” he said.

“I want to hear everything, officer,” I said.

“Understood,” he said, “The metal bar came up with no fingerprint traces. We did, however, manage to find out precisely where it came from. Bethlehem Steel. Apparently, this man bought the bar directly from the company, itself. You may take a look into it if you so please.”

“All the way in Pennsylvania?” I said.

“Afraid so,” he replied. If I were to get in touch, it’d be easier to call a man that has connections.

“What’s the information on it?” I asked.

“There’s a specified number on it,” he said, “Five, zero, zero, two, one.” Without a bye, I hung up the phone and began a call for someone else. Once he picked up, I instantly began to speak.

“Russell, I need your help,” I said.

“What do you need, Jo?” he asked.

“I need you to get in contact with Bethlehem Steel and request the buyer of a metal bar with the number of five zero zero two one, could you do that?” I was persistent on getting this case solved.

“Sure, whatever you need,” he said.

“Thanks Russell,” I replied.

“No problem, talk to you another time,” he hung up, and I set my phone aside. With Russell’s help, there should be no problem with solving this case. I stood from my seat and walked to my bathroom, stripping myself of my clothes. Without a second thought, I stepped into the shower and turned the knob, heated water pouring down onto my body with minimal amount of stings. Once I had finished my quick shower, I stepped out and quickly dried myself, walking through my apartment, to my room. I pulled out a drawer and grabbed the first pair of boxers I found, slipping them on. I tossed myself onto the bed and stared at the ceiling, pondering about the many things in the past years in which caused me problems or grief. The death of Jarold was definitely something that struck as painful, but I continue to move on. Soon, I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep.

Hours later, when the sun rose again, I woke up, lifting my head painfully. A headache struck me the moment I woke. I sat for a minute, waiting for the headache to pass, as usual. And so, it did. I stood at full height, slowly moving around the room, obtaining my clothes, slipping it on, and preparing for the day. I grabbed a pair of gray slack, a white button-up shirt, a gray jacket, and a black tie, along with black dress shoes. As usual, a suit. I walked out of my room and to my kitchen, opening the fridge to find slices of meat along with cheese. I grabbed a few slices of meat and a single slice of cheese, closed the fridge, and walked over to a bread box. I opened it and pulled out two slices of bread, placing the meat and cheese on one slice, then putting the other slice of bread on it. I ended up eating it rather quickly, as I felt a long day would come ahead. However, before I left the apartment, the phone rang. I walked over to the phone and picked it up, bringing it to my ear.

“Jo, I’m sorry,” I heard Russell speaking.

“Russell, what’s wrong?” I suddenly had a jolt once I heard Russell apologizing.

“The numbers, they don’t clock in with anyone. No one bought the metal bar. It was stolen,” Russell said. Stolen. Well shit, that means that there is no proper evidence to finding out exactly who