my evil dopple ganger part 3

It was early in the evening, when Officer Charlie Smith and his partner Rey Sanchez were called to investigate a 390-D; which is police code for an unconscious drunk. Their car, a 1994 Crown Victoria, greeted the elderly caller who waited for them at the front entrance to the southside mall. A floral mu-mu draped over her obese figure and a hair net covered her thick gray hair, which Officer Sanchez thought to be a wig.

"Yes ma'am, what is it?", he asked.

"Over there, several cars down, in front of a Jeep, there is a man on the ground." She pointed towards the half-filled parking lot, which was illuminated by florescent street lamps.

"Is he moving?"

"A little. He tried to tell me something, but I could not understand a word of it."

"Sounds drunk to me. Ma'am, wait here while we check it out. Okay?"

The woman nodded in comprehension.

------------------------------------

Officer Smith and Sanchez walked into the parking lot which was getting darker by the minute. They scanned the area methodically until they spotted the described individual. The man was exactly where the old lady had said, 'several cars down, in front of a Jeep.' He looked to be wearing 'biker' clothes, and had several prominent tattoos on his arms and neck. His face was less describable. It was hideously swollen and had dried blood caked all over it. The man was not intoxicated after all, but was instead the victim of some vicious attack.

"Rey, we better call an ambulance." said Officer Smith. Officer Sanchez nodded and left the scene to use the car phone.

Officer Smith squatted to examine the assault victim, and almost got sick to his stomach after seeing the injuries up close. Out of all the injuries, the worst was the man's jaw which was obviously broken in a couple of places. It bulged on one side, and twisted grotesquely on the other. He checked the man's pulse which was going strong.

"Hey buddy, what happened to you?", the officer asked.

The bloodied man opened his eyes and looked at Officer Smith. He tried to answer him, but all that came out was a gurgling sound.

"Thats okay, don't try to talk,... help is on the way." Officer Smith regretted asking such a stupid questions, like 'what happened?' to a man with a jaw injury.

Meanwhile, the injured man had turned his attention elsewhere. He looked to an area of the parking lot that was in darkness.

"What is it? Is there something over there?" Officer smith asked before reprimanding himself.

STUPID QUESTION!

He walked in the direction of the injured man's eyes. When he got to the dark area, he turned on his flashlight and saw a young woman lying face down in a pool of blood. She wore a trenchcoat on her body and a scarf on her head.

"Hey, ma'am? Are you alright?" After recieving no response, he checked her pulse for vital signs. There was nothing, she was dead. He turned her over and saw that her throat had been slit.

"Poor girl." he said to the corpse.

"Hey Rey!" Officer Smith shouted.

"What?" Officer Sanchez shouted back from a distance.

"We got a 187!"

"A what?"

"A 187!"

"Who?"

"A girl!"

"A what?"

"Just call it in! And rope off the perimeter!"

Officer Smith knew now, that he was going to be there for the rest of the evening. Soon the place would be covered with people from all over the police department. Detectives, Forensics, Coroners, etc.

Sadly, he didn't mind working this sort of night, because it was easy work. All he had to do was control the crowds at the perimeter, while the 'real' work was done by the team of investigators. Crowd control should be a piece-of-cake too since no one shopped at the southside mall.

This mall should be scrapped, and something better should be built in its place. he thought to himself. The mall, in its current condition, was an eye sore, one more piece of blight in a troubled neighborhood. Or was it? He pondered the question while shielding his lighter, from the wind while he lit a cigarette. He inhaled deeply and felt the nicotine enter his body. He looked skywards at the emerging stars.

"What a beautiful night. Sorry you had to miss it." Officer Smith solemnly said to the unresponsive corpse. "Its a shame. Why would someone do such a thing to such an attractive girl. You know, I'd ask you out on a date, if of course, you weren't dead. I know, I know. Why should being dead come between us? I've thought about that myself and experimented when I was young and naive. But now, I am older and wiser."

Officer Smith's attention returned back to earth, when he heard a footstep nearby. Silhouetted by the street lamps, just a few yards away, a murky figure emerged. With veteran reflexes, he flashed his light with one hand and drew his pistol with the other. To his surprise, it was the bloodied-man with the broken jaw. Officer Smith, sighed and reholstered his weapon. He walked over to the injured man.

"Sir, you shouldn't be on your feet right now. You are seriously hurt... Don't worry about your girlfriend over there, she is going to be okay. You just get back there and lie down. Help is on the way." Officer Smith grabbed the man by the arm and gently steered him back. He didn't notice the man reaching for his gun until it was too late.

Officer Charlie Smith was shot three times, twice in the torso, and once in the head.

Officer Sanchez, startled by the sound of gunshots, burst into the scene, ready for a shootout. He saw the dead woman and Officer Smith next to her. He made a quick search of the area for the gunman, but found nothing but a brown stain where the injured man used to be. He went back to check Officer Smith's condition, there was no pulse. Examining the wounds he concluded that it would be pointless to perform CPR.

Officer Sanchez, a devout catholic, made the sign of the cross. But something struck him funny about Officer Smith's position. He looked as if he was spooned the dead girl with the nice body.

Officer Sanchez chuckled to himself and said, "Finally, Charlie has found a beautiful woman!"

Somewhere in the distance, emergency vehicles rapidly approached. Their sirens mourning the loss of one of their own.