South Vale Motel - Breezy River, Florida - 9AM
"As thick as pea soup ... what a shitty cliche." Thought Detective Chris Vincent as he drove over the Breezy River Bridge on a very foggy morning, his partner Frank Flemings was too busy in the passenger seat nursing a headache caused by sinus problems to notice. "Maybe you should take the day off?" Chris told him. "And miss all the excitement in this lively region?" Frank replied sarcastically. Chris was a thirty two year old sleuth for the Tri-County Homicide Bereau while Frank was in his mid-fifties, Chris had garnered a reputation due to his striking resemblance to Elvis even though he was more a Roy Orbison guy, Frank was shorter guy and a bit fatter, sporting a black bushy moustache and curly black hair, Chris almost always wore a raincoat and Frank always wore a gray suit.
The South Vale Motel sat directly by the Breezy River which ran up into Georgia, it had it's own boat launch and boasted about having cable on a wooden sign out front. At this moment the place was cordoned off with police tape with special interest placed on the swimming pool in the middle of the parking lot, and the bare-all-except-for-a-pair-of-tacky-boxers corpse in the bloody water. Chris parked and got out, both had their badges out in their coat pockets, Sal Spinosa who was a young rookie on the Timucua City police force, half-Italian and all nervous.
"What do we got, Sal?" Chris asked.
"Well, we have a body of course, maid found him floating while she was making her rounds, no identification yet."
"You haven't even dug him out of the water, Sal." Frank said.
"Well ... no, you see .. I uh ... I uh called Thornton and well I figured he might not like ..."
"Jesus, he will be real swell with you for that." Chris said.
"Well, I had to call a coroner ..."
"But you could've dug the damn body out first, you know how Thornton is." Chris said.
A small, slightly beat up tan sedan had pulled up, an old man dressed in a cowboy getup complete with hat and boots got out, looking very angry.
"Good morning sir." A passing officer had said.
"No it's not a good morning son, it's a damn shitty one if you ask me." Thornton replied before walking over to the guys after taking a spit.
"So, good to see you Chris, everything going allright?" Thornton said.
"I guess everything is .. yet."
"I see whay ya' mean, Chrissie. How about you Frankie, read any good diet books lately?" Frank was mortified for a second but shrugged it off, same-old Thornton. "And you sonny, got the body out of the pool yet?"
"Well no sir, I was uh ... I was waiting for you." Thornton looked like he was about to have a cow. "Son, you need to grow a backbone if you want to stay in this line of work, no use waiting for an old fart like me, now get your ass up there and dig him out!" Thornton snapped. Sal had jumped a bit then darted up the stairs, it didn't take long before the body was out of the water.
"Let's see here .." Thornton said while kneeling down by the corpse, he turned him over to reveal the small hole where a bullet had lodged into the corpse's skull, plus a few beat marks. "Looks like we got a real homicide with this one, looks like he's been beaten badly, maybe some broken bones, the bullet wound ten to one is what croaked him though. Relatively young 'un too, probably drug violence, pretty brutal." Thornton got back up.
"Hey Sal, where's the owner and the maid right now?" Chris asked. "Uh, they are in the office." Sal replied.
"Were gonna' head over there, allright Thornton?" Chris asked. "Yeah, might as well, nothin' to see here, gonna' get the meat wagon 'round here to cart him off, you help me here sonny .." Sal walked over to help Thornton as Chris and Frank walked over to the office.
Not much was gotten out the maid or hotel owner, all of the current guests were accounted for so whoever the victim was he wasn't a guest, considering his condition he was brought there which didn't add up much as why not just dump him in the river behind them? He was shot there though due to the amount of blood in the water so a silencer had to have been used for anyone to not hear any shots, none of the current guests couldn't have much to do with it, a few elderly couples and a fisherman from up north with a Brooklyn accent, carried a union card which he showed off proudly to show he was a bricklayer. What the hell was this all about?
That's what Chris thought all the way back, both had stopped off for donuts and coffee in Timucua City and were heading back to Trentville to see if they could dig up some identification on the man. "Off all the damn crazy stuff I've seen ..." Chris said. "Crazy as this fog?" Frank said, it was still very foggy at this time which is somewhat unusual. "Nah', I think the fog might have a slight edge but still ... what's this all about? Why leave a corpse there?" Chris asked. "Ya' know, I once watched a mob documentary once where this hitman had left the body of a rat in a public spot so it could be a message to other rats not to squeal to the Feds." Frank said.
"But what would the mob would be ... the fuckin' bricklayer!" Chris said. "What about the ... oh shit. We had him, we fuckin' had him." Frank said. Chris pulled out his cell-phone and called Sal. "Hey Sal, it's me Chris. Where is that bricklayer we talked to, you know the fisherman with the Brooklyn accent?" "Oh, he just left to go fishing, thought you said not to hold him ..."
"Well put out a search for him, he might be our guy. And be careful, he may be mobbed up and pretty well armed." Chris put the cell-phone away before smacking the steering whell, "Damn, the chief is going to be pissed, right in front of us and we let him go, he's probably long gone by now." Chris was still pissed when he got back to Trentville, the guy was indeed gone, didn't return, left the key and a hundred for the owner by the bed ... but he was far from gone, he was still in the area, searching for someone and he was going to find them.
That's what he was hired to do.