The Curse of 1977 (Book 2)

It was hot, but the heat was somewhat stymied by the clouds that loomed heavy in the humid sky that morning as police officers
milled about the gruesome crime scene in the alley on the south side of the town.
The Cadillac was a complete wreck, from its smashed windshield, to the blood soaked seats, both front and back, all the way to
the back window which was destroyed as well. Still settled inside the driver's seat was Wendell's body, the only difference was
that his mutilated head was lying on the passenger's seat beside him. His body, from the chest all the way down to his legs had
been eaten away. Only scant shards of his clothing, along with bits and pieces of flesh that was scattered all over the car
remained.
Inspector Ortega climbed out of his brown sedan and straightened his brown tie as he made his way over to the scene. All along
the alleyway were the usual onlookers and gawkers, most of which resided in the neighborhood. The entire commotion was
blocked off by a yellow tape barricade.
Ortega used only his badge to get past the officers before ducking under the tape and curiously making his way over to a pudgy
white man who was prying his way inside the vehicle.
Ortega, trying his best not to step into any puddles of blood that was on the ground, approached the individual from behind, and
in a chipper voice said, "Looks like we got one heck of a dilemma on our hands here."
Unresponsive to the man's words, the pudgy man, with his ample rear poked out for the world to see, just kept on at his detail.
Somewhat perturbed by the man's ill-gotten silence, Ortega sucked in his gut and announced a bit louder, "I said—
"I heard what you said the first time." The man inside the car huffed. "It's too hot for cliché's."
"I uh, I was just wondering what took place here."
"And you are?" The pudgy man asked in a muffled voice.
"Inspector David Ortega," he said out loud.
Almost immediately, the man pulled his girth from out of the vehicle and approached Ortega with only a pair of forceps in his right
hand.
"Oh, so you're the new inspector." The man reacted, a bit taken off guard. "The name's Brice. Patrick Brice. I'm the forensics
officer here."

"Good to meet you, Mr. Brice." Ortega said as he glanced around the scene for a moment before turning back to Brice.
"I was told that the new inspector wouldn't be starting until next month." Brice pushed his eyeglasses back onto his face.
"Yeah, well, I was never one for punctuality."
"Have you met O'Dea yet, by any chance?" Brice smirked.
Ortega just squared his eyes at Brice. "I've been getting a lot of flak on Inspector O'Dea ever since I first got here. What gives
with the guy?"
Brice just continued to grin before turning around to the car and reaching for a few papers that were placed on the hood.
Ortega rolled his eyes at Brice before taking a peek inside the car to see the maimed cadaver. The sight was both ghastly and
somewhat sad for the man. Sad, until he noticed pills and traces of white powder littered all over inside the car.
"What exactly took place here?" Ortega questioned. Turning back around, Brice replied with a sigh, "Well, we got one black male
torn to bits and pieces by...something."
Ortega examined the corpse's chest which was split wide open. "Something, huh," he shrugged. "Must've been one huge
something."
"You could say that." Brice said in a coy vernacular.
Ortega took a stroll about the vehicle until he came to the passenger's side. "Does anyone know who else was in here with him?"
Brice walked over to Ortega. "No, not yet," he said. "But lucky for them, they got away."
"Looks like a drug deal gone terribly wrong."
Brice just eyeballed the man with the most wary stare he could give before saying, "With all due respect, Inspector, this was
more than just a simple drug deal."
"Really," Ortega perked up. "What, do dealers here in Cypress use wild animals to kill off other dealers?" He grinned.
"And just where are you from?"
"Chicago."

"And tell me, have you ever seen anything like this in Chicago before, Inspector?"
Ortega breathed in. "No...not exactly," he then exhaled. "But then again, ever since I've arrived here in Cypress, I've never seen
six foot dogs burned to death in alleys either."
At that very moment, it was like someone had ringed the loudest bell in Brice's face. The man dropped his forceps and papers to
the ground before coming face to face with Ortega in the most desperate manner.
"You were there that morning they found that animal?" Brice stammered.
Taken aback, Ortega said, "Yeah...it was pretty gruesome. Not as gruesome as this, obviously, but bad enough."
Brice immediately took Ortega by the arm and led him as far away from the car as possible, even further away from the throng of
officers and gawkers.
"What's going on?" Ortega snatched his arm away.
"You saw that thing that morning?" Brice whispered.
" Yeah, yeah I saw it." Ortega looked around confused. "What about it?"
"I wasn't here when that went down. I was in Martha's Vineyard visiting my dad and stepmother, but everyone I ask down at the
station is keeping quiet about it. I need to know what it was you saw that morning."
"Well, what I saw that morning was something of...of an animal. It was burned to a crisp." He shrugged.
"But you mentioned that it was six feet. Six feet wide or long," Brice asked.
Ortega peered strangely into Brice's wild eyes. "Look, what are you getting at?"
"You look like an intelligent man, Inspector, so it wouldn't surprise you that most dogs don't grow to six feet. Doesn't that strike
you as odd?"
"Perhaps, but then again, it could've escaped from the zoo."
With the force of two men, Brice once again grabbed Ortega by the arm and practically dragged the man back over to the car.

"Look at that." He adamantly pointed. "Does this guy look like he was killed by a zoo animal? Look at the car itself. Unless you're
a rhino or an elephant, no zoo animal can destroy a vehicle this brutally."
Ortega glanced at the body before looking back at Brice. "Are you kidding me?" He grimaced. "Just what else could he have
been killed by?"
Brice just stood back and wiped the sweat from off his forehead. "I can't believe this." He gasped.
"Can't believe what?" Ortega urged.
Spinning around in a circle, Brice came to a complete stop in Ortega's face. "Look, this was not done by some drug dealers, or
by some zoo animal. This was something else."
"You know what killed this man?"
Brice's eyes suspiciously glared around his surroundings. "I believe I do." He whispered.
"C'mon, Brice, we gotta get this guy out of here!" A coroner impatiently came along with a black, plastic bag in hand.
"I...I'm almost done here!" Brice waved at the man before turning back to Ortega. "Look, in order for me to fully explain myself,
I...I gotta have someone's undivided attention."
"You've got mine."
Twisting his lips, Brice dismissively commented, "I've heard that one before. The only reason I need to talk to you specifically is
because you actually saw the thing. I'd talk to Wilson, but he and his wife are taking their third vacation for the year. Who knows
when he'll be back?"
Drawing closer to Brice, Ortega whispered, "Look, I have a series of meetings with both the Deputy mayor and Captain Brickman
today, but tomorrow, I'll be free."
Shaking his head up and down, Brice replied, "Okay, I'll see you then." As the man began to walk away, he suddenly stopped
and said, "Oh...and welcome to Cypress, Ohio, Inspector Ortega."
Ortega only stood and pondered as the pudgy man carried himself away into the sea of officers before he turned back to the
dead man inside the car.

Piece by piece the two coroners gathered a head, a body and other bits and pieces of what was left of the person. In Ortega's
eyes all that he could visualize from Brice's animated take on the subject was something that he himself had never seen or
possibly heard of. But he was aware of one thing, whatever tore the driver apart the way it did had his exclusive attention,
whether it wanted it or not.
Even after the coroners had collected all the body parts, Ortega remained beside the car. Unexpectedly, the man just couldn't
make a move, which was until his eye just happened to spot a few strands of brown fur lying on the car's dashboard.
Ortega reached inside and picked it up before studying the fibers from end to end.