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Batman: The Frightening (Part4)
By Crisco
The cornstalks brushed against Detective Montoya as she made her way to the crime scene. She buttoned up her jacket as the autumn wind chilled her. Her long black hair was in a bun, under her cop hat. She liked looking like a guy when she first arrived, this way the CSI and GPD treated her seriously, because after all, she was serious about her job. Detective Smiley was not far behind her. He was sneezing and coughing over and over again because of the dust the wind had picked up. Renee blocked the noise out of her mind. He always had something wrong with him. One of those kids who just had all the allergies, all the pneumonias and colds, it just never ended. Renee heard talking in the distance and knew she was close to the site.
The clearing had been trampled. A small hole in the ground was at the center of the circular area. A German shepherd was off at the opposite edge of the clearing, it’s tongue lying out of its mouth, eyes starring into space. The body had already been taken to the hospital earlier that morning. The parents had called in for their son, they weren’t sure what was wrong with him. The police noticed his case was like the two earlier and rushed him to the ER. Detective Montoya walked up to a CSI and asked, “ Why isn’t the dog at a vet?”
“Well, the dog’s dead miss.” The investigator answered.
“We need it for analysis then, I want it’s lungs checked for toxins, chemicals, gasses, everything.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Renee walked over to the hole in the ground; she rubbed her fingers in the earth. It was a cone shape. She thought to herself: What happened here, what was in the hole? She stood up and surveyed her surroundings. The stalks were about 5 ft. high. They extended endlessly in one direction and abruptly stopped in another, making way for the large Oak Forest. They hadn’t raked up any evidence on this guy, except for the bodies, and they hadn’t seemed to be touched. She decided to take a walk.
She walked alone in the empty cornfield, making her own path by trampling the stalks. It seemed like the field would never end. She started to think about what the criminal would look like. People who commit crimes like this have a “by the book” stereotype, White male, 5”9”, lives alone, thinks he is somehow superior, and had some type of childhood problem. The picture of this man was painted so vividly in Renee’s mind. She reached out to grab him but he left in a whisp of clouds. Others might think that it would be hard to spot this stereotype, because of all the good people who fit it, but Renee knew better. You can just tell through your intuition who is guilty and who isn’t. The look on someone’s face can tell you that alone. She was going to catch this guy, no-matter what.
The field stopped again with another clearing. It looked identical to the other, the corn trampled around. Then there was the difference: A huge wooden beam stood in the ground, and nailed to it was a scarecrow. The scarecrow had a goofy grin and straw sticking out all the sides. It was made of straw and potato sacks. It was adorned with a “cowboy” hat and a flannel shirt. Detective Montoya realized what happened at the crime scene. She walked to the pole and calculated the dimensions in her mind. She picked up her radio.
“Jack, look for a wooden beam or pole, cone shaped on one end, it should have dirt on it. It should be about 7 feet long.”
“Right on it Renee.” Jack answered.
The thought of what happened at the crime sent chills down Renee’s spine. She shivered thinking about the man who had meticulously thought out the crime. Who had waited probably hours, faking to be a scarecrow. What was he thinking about the whole time? Where did he go after the crime? What was he doing at this very moment?
Detective Montoya’s radio beeped and she picked it up.
“I think we’ve found it.” Jack said, his voice muffled by static.
“I’ll be right there.” Renee called back.
CSI had already doused the pole with powder, looking for any fingerprints. The baking powder smelled as the shook it over the top half. Nothing came up so they all flipped it over to the backside. Linda, a CSI started from the top of the pole and brushed the powder down the side. Then amidst the now white pole, letters in red appeared…
Words were crudely etched in the wood:
HAPPY HALLOWEEN
Alfred was at the breakfast table listening to Bruce spill out what had happened the previous night.
“… I had a purpose, I wanted to help.” Bruce finished.
“It’s about time you put yourself to good use.” Alfred said, wiping his mustache.
Bruce looked up at him, then back down at his full plate.
“I’m going out again tonight Alfred.” Bruce said.
“I encourage it.” Alfred answered.
4/18/2003 9:52:09 AM
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