Bone Picker

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic
Frankie and Talitha will never live past their last fight...

Submitted: February 09, 2017

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Submitted: February 09, 2017

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"Bone Picker"

Talitha sat on the side of the bed. Her bleeding lower lip accentuated the bruise spreading across her left cheek. She cradled her right arm, limp and broken, in her lap. Red and blue lights revolved across the bed’s yellow spread from the patrol car parked outside the bedroom window. Frankie spoke softly with an officer in the hallway just behind the open bedroom door.

“Yeah, I don’t know why she did it. She knows I ain’t crazy until she has to have help to stop.” Frankie said.

Ï have to take her statement this time Frank. Probably no big deal because this is our fifth time on a call here and we know you and her by now,” responded the police officer.

“Good, good- I’ll wait out here in the hall” said Frankie.

“No problem,” the police officer said. Standing down the hall further away from the bedroom door, the police officer’s partner asked Frankie to come wait out of earshot of Talitha. The police officer knocked softly and firmly on the bedroom doorframe. “Talitha?” he inquired politely before he entered the bedroom. Talitha blinked wary eyes at the police officer as he stepped over to stand beside her. The police officer patted her leg firmly and Talitha did not move or object. “Ï just need you to tell me what happened here last night,” said the police officer. Talitha looked up at the police officer with wary eyes and shrugged her good shoulder.

“He hit me, that’s what happened,” Talitha mumbled.

“Tell me exactly what ‘he hit me’ means. What happened?” asked the police officer. Talitha cried silently, tears streaking the blood on her chin. She shook her head back and forth without any further comment. ”Ökay. If you cannot talk to me, I can run you in and you can talk to somebody else,” the police officer stated.

“No! I can talk to you officer,” Talitha protested.

“Well, you’re not doing a very good job of it at the moment,” said the police officer.

“Can I get some air outside? Can we talk away from Frankie?” pleased Talitha.

“Yes, ma’am, you can come away with me right now.” The police officer put his left hand under Talitha’s good elbow and pulled to raise her up off the bed. Takitha stood up, jerked her arm away and winced in pain that ripped through her shoulders. She sniffled and wiped the back of her hand under her nose. “Okay, move along. We need to go outside,” the police officer said. She walked away from the bed and the police officer out the bedroom door and into the small hallway. The police officer bodily blocked Talitha’s view of Frankie standing at the far end of the hall, moving swiftly past her to  keep contact with Frankie off limits.

“Don’t you touch me! Don’t you touch me!” Talitha screamed in Frankie’s direction as she walked past him into the living room.

“Come on,” said the police officer’s partner, pushing on Talitha’s left shoulder and steering her toward the open front door of the house at the end of the living room.

“You just get me out of here,” said Talitha. She walked through the living room and out the front door of the house stopping on the front porch steps with the police officer’s partner close behind her.

“Hold up a moment,” the police officer’s partner ordered. He turned to close the open front door as two cars cruised by on the street. One of the cars, a small, white Toyota, held three teenagers. The Toyota cruised two houses up the block and parked. Radio music cast a boom-beat from all four open car windows. Talitha put her left hand up over her ear. The speakers’ bass pounded drums like a bone pulverizer riding down over a graveyard on flat tires. “You need to come get in the car,” said the police officer’s partner, putting a hand on Talitha’s shoulder.

“Frankie says: ’It’s my house, Talitha! It’s my home, Talitha!’ Officer, that son-of-a-bitch needs to be dead! Frankie! Frank? Do you hear me? Come on out here Frankie! You mother fucking coward. Come out here in the yard and teach me somethin’ else I do not know. Can you still walk or did I raise your poor excuse for balls?” Talitha ranted and flailed her good arm, wind-milling to the front sidewalk still screaming at the top of her lungs.

The front door to the house opened a crack. “Just stay inside, sir!” the police officer’s partner barked.

“This ain’t happenin’ at the front of my house!” Frankie bellowed from inside the front door.

Talitha raised her left fist and beat on the air. “Can’t hurt me with someone else, Frankie! Come on, let’s go ‘round where they can see you!” The police officer’s partner moved down the steps toward Talitha and Frankie burst out the front door. The police officer ran out of the house directly behind Frankie, slammed up against him and tried to pin Frankie’s arms. “Stand down, Frank! She’s almost gone,” shouted the police officer. The police officer’s partner rushed at Talitha. Early morning dawn, sultry and heavy with heat, hung like a still, suspended heartbeat. A fire-cracker loud ‘pop’ ripped over the noise from Talitha and Frankie, shattering the steady pulse of speaker rhythm from the Toyota.

The side of Frankie’s head exploded and red blood flew from a gaping hole where his ear had been. Frankie’s knees crumpled under him, dropping his body to the house steps. The police officer dropped Frankie’s arms and sagged back with wide eyes. The police officer’s partner grabbed Talitha around the waist, pulled her to the patrol car and wrenched open the backseat patrol car door. He shoved Talitha into the backseat and slammed the patrol car door shut.  From the house steps the police officer yelled to his partner, “Call for backup!” Then the police officer stepped across Frankie’s body, pulled his gun and started around the left side of the house.

Two male teenagers jumped out of the white Toyota’s rear passenger doors. They both swiveled their necks and proceeded rapidly toward the patrol car. “Hey man, what’s happened? We were just sitting…are some more cops coming?” one of the male teenagers addressed the police officer’s partner.

The police officer’s partner pulled a set of handcuffs off his belt. “Put your hands out in front of you, boy,” he said.

“Man, we were just sitting. Is that guy dead?” The police officer’s partner removed his gun from its side holster and pointed the gun at the talkative teenager. “Stand down and put your hands out,” the police officer’s partner said. The teenager blinked and put his arms out in front of his chest.  

“Come on! We’re asking for our own safety,” said the other male teenager.

“Your turn’s next,” said the police officer’s partner as he snapped the handcuffs around the first male teenager’s wrists. The police officer came striding from the right side of Frankie’s backyard.

“All clear,” shouted the police officer, standing back beside Frankie’s body. Talitha buried her face against the seat leather in the rear of the patrol car. Two more patrol cars, sirens blaring, ran up in the street. One of the arriving patrol cars parked behind the small, white Toyota and the other backup patrol car stopped and barricaded the middle of the block’s intersection. The officer’s partner passed off the teenager in handcuffs to one of the new officer arrivals as soon as the new officer’ on the scene jumped out of the patrol car parked behind the small, white Toyota. The second male teenager started another argument with the backup officers’ team. Frankie’s body oozed a dark blood stain onto the concrete house steps and an ambulance arrived, quietly with flashing lights, to pick up the bones.

 

 

 

 

 

 


© Copyright 2017 Kimberly A McKenzie. All rights reserved.

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