The detective, sat on his chair, rifling thoroughly through a very large pile of papers, lit a cigarette, his 80th of the day, and he began searching for clues, connections and meaningful things in his case for the killer. The killer of 19 women, 17 children, 6 dogs and 12 poor, homeless people.
His cigarette dangled in the corner of his mouth as he muttered and mumbled to himself. Mutter, mutter, mumble, rifle, paper noises emanated all throughout his tiny apartment. This apartment he rented for a small fee from an old friend he knew from his alcohol-addiction program back in the day. The apartment wreaked of cocaine and sex, that unique sex-smell. God knows what kind of parties his old friend held on occasion.
These papers were too numerous to deal with. He needed a smaller workload, but then he thought, “No, I have to do this”. His cigarette had run to its end. The last of the ash fell upon the 500th piece of paper, and seconds later, Detective Lemon’s head fell upon the same bit of paper, he fell DEEEEPLY asleep. The kind of sleep that people dream of. The kind of deep sleep that Detective Lemon very much deserved, he hadn’t slept properly for five days, maybe an hour or two every day, but no more. He was out for the count.
Images and visions popped up. During this sleep, the Detective was annoyed to find that he was seeing things, all he wanted was that long, dark sleep that babies must have. Not wanting to dream of anything, Mr. Lemon fought against the images. But not for long, because these images and fast, flashing visions of seeming nothingness began to form a coherent picture. A picture of who or what might have been behind these brutal murders.
Asleep, Mr. Lemon was riding the wave of a mental whirlpool. Faces, most of which he’d never seen before flashed in front of his mind’s eye. Location, locales, places of interest flashed also, places he’d never been to, but places he had a vague recollection of from history books and History Channel shows. Then, suddenly, images of insane violence and war and brutality flickered in front of his mind’s eye like a cartoon slideshow made by Adolf Hitler. Detective Lemon was so disturbed and wanted this to stop so badly, he woke himself up by sheer force of will! He snapped upright in his chair, fully recharged, even though he only slept for about half an hour.
Part 2 next, obviously.