chapter fifty-two

Chapter 52
word count: 552

Two divers detached the cement bricks, then tied the bundle with strong ropes. More rugged men on the bridge waited, then tugging, hoisted up the package, their burly arms glistening with sweat even in the early morning sun. It was going to be a hot day. Bud wiped his brow while he rushed closer

"Well, let's see what we got" he yelled. "I'm curious to see who got on Frank's shit list this time. Poor schmuck!"

"It's not all that heavy," one of the strong men said. "Must be a skinny guy."

"Who ever heard of a skinny gangster?" Bud joked as his eyes watched the bundle being lifted over the railing and lowered to the deck. A strange pang shot through him, painful and sad. He shook it off. His line of work demanded objectivity...no room for emotional outbursts. Funny this one should bother him. He inspected gory crime scenes all the time. His cell rang just as he was going to have a look at the victim.

"Hello."

"Bud, you'd better get over here to your place. Ren's here, he's dead." It was his partner, Red.

"What?"

"Yeah, your cleaning lady found him. In the shower. Bullet through his heart."

"What the fuck? We were together. When I left him, he was sleeping on the couch. I gave him something to help him sleep."

"Well, he's sleeping permanently now. We're checking for prints."

"I'll be right there." Bud closed his eyes in disbelief.

"Mr. Kramer, we're ready." One of the strong men stood next to him.

"Okay," Bud replied, pulling gloves from his pocket. He bent over the bundle, pealing back folds of black plastic until a hand was revealed. Waterlogged and wrinkled, it wasn't pretty. A red polyester sleeve covered a delicate wrist.

"Good God! It's a woman," he muttered, gingerly pulling back more shards of plastic. A petite female form began to emerge. Small, but familiar, all too familiar. Bud's heart knew before his eyes confirmed it. Jane. It was his beloved Janie. As he pulled away the last of the black material, tears rolled down his cheeks. Could this be happening?

Jane's eyes were still wide open, frozen in time with fear. Choking, he pulled the lids down to put her at peace. Who had done this? He searched her body in a frantic rush, looking for bullet wounds or knife stabs, some indication of what and who had killed her. But her body was in perfect form, no violations, no bullets, no stab wounds.Then the magnitude of it hit him!

"It's my wife! It's my wife! Whoever did this is going to pay!" He cried. He jumped up and paced, waving his arms in the air. The others led him to his car, sat him in the front seat, hung around to make sure he was okay, waiting for the sobs to stop. Finally, rational thought returned. Whoever did this probably killed Ren, too, and others. And they probably intended to kill him, too. So what? He had nothing to live for.

Later, when he viewed Ren's body in his shower, blasted away with blood splattered everywhere, he was numb. He didn't care about Ren. He cared only about Janie. He'd find her murderers. He'd find them before they had a chance to locate him first.