Chance Gordon laid back in his seat, and he felt relaxed. Yet another fantastic product of Atwood Chairs he had owned, a chair that was both good to look at and sit on, without any worry of breaking his spinal cord or falling over.
Behind him was the wide window of his office, just cleaned this morning and his ears picked up cars roaring and honking down in the streets, even the people on the sidewalks. From where his office was located, the people down there would look like ants.
In his office, the side window on the right was slightly opened, letting some of that fresh air in, at least when there wasn't large amounts of car smoke polluting the skies. Approaching the opened window, he could see a good view of the West part of town from here, a little bit of the North as well. He took in a deep breath of the city's air.
On his desk was a newspaper from the Morissey Bulletin. Chance caught wind of the Bulletin pumping out their papers faster than most days. He got one of the first fifty prints for today's edition.
The main headline read in big and bold letters: Gangster Lloyd Howitzer brutally tortured and murdered.
Murder wasn't a new thing for detectives like him. Death wasn't also a strange concept for him.
He remembered a time during the war, where the United States and their Allies fought the Axis. Bodies piled up as high as a hill, and he had a good feeling it was a mountaintop by the time it ended in '45, just as he landed back here in Morissey.
He played his part in fighting, as with thousands of other men.
It didn't take Chance long to think that a Dripper was more than likely to be involved. For Drippers, it was eventually all about the money, and in many cases, murders weren't always done with a gun. Next to Howitzer's murder, was another headline, also in big bold letters: Hellfire Arm presence strikes fear to the people; "Rosenthal calls for pulling all the stops to stop the Hellfire Arm Crisis."
Morissey, a city of business, wealth, and opportunity. A living and breathing metropolis on the American East coast. This place had been his home like many other Americans. Like those around him, people were giving it their all to their work and to live a modest life.
Chance shifted to the sight of his door. In addition to a knock, he saw a shadowy figure. "Come in."
In came the office was an officer. Like many members of the Morissey Police Department, the officer had a badge on him, as well as his serial number. He was an average built man, but he did not seem fragile by any means. Clearly, he was another sample of the city's finest, built men fit to protect the streets.
"Good afternoon Officer…" Chance started.
"Fermor, Mr. Gordon."
"Please, call me Chance. Have a seat."
"Thank you." The officer said. "How is the Haverton Agency these days?"
"Busy, at least for the Senior Investigators, and some juniors as well." Chance said as he grabbed a bottle of Atomic Cola from the medium sized fridge he had. The thing was running on pounds of ice, keeping drinks and sometimes leftovers cool. He gestured at Fermor, offering a drink.
"No thank you." Fermor replied politely. The officer positioned his posture as the investigator took his seat. "I trust you have read the papers today?"
"I have." said Chance, cracking open the bottle of cola. The red stick slapped on the glass bottle and its graphic of an explosion was as visible as day. "Though I wonder what brings you here."
"As expected, Rosenthal asked as many officers as possible to visit all of the available Haverton detectives in the city." Fermor spoke of the police commissioner. "Hellfire Arms have been causing havoc around the city for the past year, and the commissioner's one of the few people who has pretty much had enough. The Board of Officials' backing him up."
"Hellfire Arms, and Drippers." Chance said the word 'Dripper' in a stronger tone.
"Speaking of Dripper." Fermor countered. "There's been another victim today.
"Anybody in particular?"
The charcoal black telephone on the desk was ringing. Both the investigator and the officer looked at it.
"Yes?" Chance answered, allowing the person on the other line to speak. Fermor watched the conversation unfold. "Yes sir. I know about Rosenthal." Chance started to speak. "No sir, I have no cases at the moment. What? Seriously? Sorry sir, I was just surprised." He paused as the other line spoke. The Haverton detective nodded his head. "Of course. I understand completely. Yes sir, good day." He then closed the call and let out a breath.
"Your superior?" Fermor asked Chance.
"Yeah, that be the case." Chance spoke of his boss, Higgins, the man surveying Havertons like him in the city. "He's also told me that the Director has given the ok for all Havertons in Morissey to help with the Hellfire Arm issue."
"R. Chandler?" Fermor brought up the Haverton Agency Director's name.
Chance only gave a small nod. "In fact, Higgins told me to check out a murder at some warehouse. Said there was red air all over the murder scene."
"That's the victim I was gonna talk about." Fermor said. "Lloyd Howitzer. They found his body with mist coming out and well, it's making people reluctant to go outside."
***
Lloyd Howitzer's body was on a makeshift gurney, just outside the building where he took his last breath.
The area surrounding the building was filled with police officers, all drenched in navy blue uniforms. Red mist was coming out of Howitzer's body, the gangster lying down on the gurney, face up. The mist was odorless, but it was red as blood.
Chance walked behind Fermor. The officer in front of him led the way as other officers were closing the area. 2 officers seemed robust, and they were standing in front of their cars. Chance had a sense that a certain type of storm would be coming: the kind involving nosy people with dumb questions.
Reporters loved any news that was beyond normal. News about a model getting married? That'll sell. News about a celebrity couple calling it quits? Sell. News about various murders involving Hellfire Arms?
Now that was a whole different thing altogether.
A man wearing a teal blue long shirt and suit was in front of Lloyd Howitzer's corpse was taking notes. He heard the footsteps behind him and turned.
"Officer Fermor." The man spoke. "I see you brought a Haverton."
"His superior told him about this matter, and this case. This is Chance Gordon. Chance, this is the coroner, Tom Hill."
"Doc." Chance spoke as he tilted his head to see the victim's corpse. Red mist was still in the air, although the redness to it started to fade. He shook his head, in slight horror and disgust. "I guess most of what's happened here is self explanatory."
"It's clear a Hellfire Arm did this." Hill spoke. "The only question would be like any other crime, who, why, and which Hellfire Arm."
"I know Hellfire Arms were used back in the war 4 years ago, but I didn't expect them to turn up here in town." Chance looked at Howitzer's body. Bullet holes were everywhere, each of those holes made the body's dried blood darker than it was supposed to be. The victim's face was a different tale.
"His eyes are crimson." Chance said. "The pupils. Retinas. Almost like someone painted them that way." His eyes looked down to see at the various cuts and a bullet hole or two on his upper chest. "Judging by the injuries, somebody must have taken their time to torture him."
"Personally I feel disgusted, almost as if the killer was trying to make us confused as hell on purpose." Hill said. "No doubt this is the work of a Dripper. No regular murder would be like this. Have you seen the room?"
Chance saw the insides of the room the gangster was tortured in. The walls were coated in crimson, some of the red being a tiny bit brighter than the walls. The gangster's blood perhaps, splashed onto the wall like water.
"Say Doc" Chance asked as the coroner nodded. "How many bodies have you got in the morgue?"
"12, and this one happens to be unlucky 13." The coroner spoke in a shudder. "Since Dripper killings came back along I've had field month instead of a field day. "There's a likely chance the bodies were struck with Hellfire Arms, but I have a good feeling they're not from the same Arm."
"Any other Haverton been here before me?" Chance looked at the coroner
"No, not yet." Hill replied. "But I'll be sure to talk to another. I heard Rosenthal's pulling all the stops to this Hellfire Arm crisis, at the very least get the Hellfire Arms gone. First he's getting the Havertons, and well, if really necessary, maybe the military. I just hope we don't have to get the World involved."
Hill added. "I suggest you talk to Fermor more about what you and the other Havertons can do to help. I have a feeling something big is coming up."
With a name like Hellfire Arm Crisis, Chance thought, big wouldn't be the best word to describe it.