 
### Love Them All

### ipam

Smashwords Edition Copyright 2020 Pamela Joan Barlow Smashwords Edition, License Notes This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

A crime drama...

A serial killer doesn't need a bye line....

In the tiny town of Felton, a serial killer emerges then exhibits a unique killing pattern, murdering the entire family unit, consisting of the mother, the father, and the children underneath one rooftop home.

Police detective Tarsal is on the crime scene working to solve the mysterious killer with his years of police skills and his set of smart brains.

If Tarsal is successful, he will be promoted to the new Felton Police Chief as the old police chief retires and enjoys spending time with her new grandchild.

If not....
City of Felton, within the U.S. State of Alabama

(Six miles, north, from metro city Birmingham)

Tuesday, June 5th

Hot temperatures with bright sunshine

Pa's Barber Shop location

Barber chair setting

04:33 pm

He lounged inside a red tinted oversized leather chair and admired his own face. He possessed a tone of peachy color skin, a pair of brown eyes, and a jaw line of red tinted whiskers, frowning into the forward reflection mirror, brushing back the loose hair strands around the earlobe. He said, "I asked you to trim the curls, not cut off the curls, Violet."

Violet possessed a tall, slender body frame, wearing a high ponytail in her natural bright red colored hair that had been highlighted in narrow streaks of neon purple hue, displaying a tight white short dress with an array of big bold purple colored flowers. She reached over, grabbed onto, pulling backwards on some of his shoulder length blonde colored curls, saying into the reflection mirror with a set of green tinted eyes and a sour frown. "And I did as you asked, Tarsal. I trimmed off the dead end on each one of your curls at the bottom of your hair. Now, get up from my barber chair! I have more customers waiting for my scissors," she lifted the scissors near her sneer and snapped the blades while laughing out loud with an evil tone.

Thirty years old, Tarsal Tarragon continued to sit and stared with a sour frown into the reflection mirror, studying his shoulder lengthy blonde tinted hair strands. He said, "I don't know about that. You seemed to have cut off too many of my golden blonde curls. I might not..."

"Your hair color is not golden blonde. It's dirty blonde. And get out of my chair, Tarsal." She sneered.

From the entrance wall, a tall, muscular male swiftly stood upright from a row of brown tinted ratty lounge chairs sounding with a loud sneer then quickly advanced ahead with a sour frown, and stopped, standing behind the red tinted barber chair with Tarsal. He reached down then grabbed, touching the back rest on the barber chair, swiftly tilting the chair forward with a sneer. "Violet did a good job on your sissy golden blonde curls. Get outta of the chair, Tarsally!"

A barber chair did not contain a safety belt that could hold a body in place for any reason. Tarsal quickly slid down the slick worn leather then tumbled forward towards the massive black tinted hair stylist counter that contained a row of sharp scissors and other small instruments for cutting off human hair. He swiftly stood upright on top of the dirty floor and spun around with a sneer, clearing a throat, presenting a fake smile at the familiar taller male, who had attended the same local high school with Tarsal. The tall and muscular male had been a local bully in high school and now was a local big shot within their home town of Felton. Tarsal tossed both of his palms near his fake smile, saying with a whiny timber, "All right! I'm okay. I'm leaving the chair."

He growled. "Tip her good, also, Tarsally!" The extremely large male sneered then smiled at Tarsal.

Tarsal dropped both of his hands beside each hidden pocket on his pair of faded but nicely pressed blue jeans and scooted around the barber chair with his fake smile, strolling ahead, lifting a cupped hand with three individual twenty dollar bills, giving the money to his personal hair dresser. "And my generous tip to you, Violet." He slowly moved ahead towards the front door with a fake smile. "I'll be back in eight weeks for another trim, Violet."

The familiar male slid down into the red tinted leather chair and smiled into the reflection mirror. He said, "A real man comes back in three weeks for a shave and a haircut, Tarsally," he laughed with some of the other waiting male customers.

Tarsal continued to stroll ahead with his fake smile nodding to each waiting male customer, reaching out, grabbing the pre-offered red tinted plastic cup of cold ice water and moved through open archway which was held by two of the young pretty barber girls. He slowly strolled over the front porch and sipped, swallowing the cold beverage, moving into the bright sunshine. The month was June and the weather were heated. He had stopped into Pa's Barber Shop for a trim, not a cut.

Pa's Barber Shop was owned by an older, uglier, and wiser female, who only employed a set of young pretty females with a cosmetology license for cutting human hair. The smart entrepreneur also employed a few older and uglier female cosmetologists that wore a ton of cosmetic girly makeup which made each one appeared as a pretty, southern belle.

Each female cosmetologist had been assigned the nickname of a flower and wore the nickname on a short sexy dress that thrilled the loin cloth on each male and maybe the older and uglier owner also.

The Barber Shop establishment primarily cut hair off the human skull but offered trays of finger sandwiches and pitchers of sweet tea for each customer. A pair of girls opened and closed the front entrance doors, so each male customer could enjoy the beauty parlor salon experience like their female wife or girlfriend. The establishment was not limited to male customers and also serviced females, as well.

However, the smart, old, ugly, and wise female entrepreneur had a thriving business venture with a steady line of male customers, who lounged inside a ratty leather chair and sipped on a tall cold tumbler of sweet tea while waiting their turn for a shave and a haircut with their favorite Barbie...barber.

Alcoholic beverages were not allowed here now, but the female entrepreneur was working on a liquid license too for her special clientele.

At 04:39 pm, underneath the shaded front porch, a tall, slender Tarsal strutted away from the entrance doors and finished the cold beverage, reaching over then deposited the used empty plastic cup down into the green tinted trash can, where the plastic cup would be buried underneath the red dirt and exist for another two thousand years and never die a slow or fast death.

He slowly strolled ahead towards his parked silver tinted pickup truck in the hot sunshine and then stopped, opening the driver's door, sliding inside the white tinted leather seat. He wiggled side to side for comfort and started the cold engine, fiddling with the controls, setting the air conditioning unit on the highest setting. The trunk engine slowly warmed as the forcefully cold air hit his wet face and neck drying the sweat balls from the heated day.

He pulled out his personal mobile telephone and checked each text and email message, smiling down at an empty screen. "Nice! Today is an easy payday." Tarsal reached up and placed his personal mobile telephone on the dashboard clip, adjusting the device upright for an immediate view, slapping one hand back onto the steering column. The other hand shifted the drive gear into the letter of D. He slowly pulled ahead from the end parking spot. Tarsal always parked his big pickup truck ass-backwards into a parking spot for a quick getaway from the home of his biological parents or one of his current and temporary cute girlfriends. He slowly entered onto the main highway that ran through the rural town limits of Felton heading in a southern direction for his next afternoon treat, slowly steering within the slower lane with light vehicle traffic. The small town of Felton was growing up fast and furious with the rest of the bigger cities.

The city of Felton is located six miles in the northern direction from metro city Birmingham. The city of Birmingham is the largest city, within the US State of Alabama, with a population of 500,000.

The city of Felton started out as a small plot of unknown wilderness and mammal wildness, before the year 1819, when the territory of Alabama became a state.

During the War of 1812, the newborn country, the United States of America had engaged in a second independence from the powerful kingdom of Great Britain. The USA won that war battle also, but some of the injured and surviving British soldiers swiftly ran away from the battlefield and hid inside the wilderness while living off the land, enjoying the taste of freedom. The same group of British soldiers continued to head westward and then stopped, resting their tried bones and festering wounds within a plot of wilderness that eventually became their hometown of Felton.

Currently, within the town of Felton, the family clan that came from each one of the surviving British soldiers still lived and thrived here, within the same plot of wilderness and wildness, retelling the ancient tales of independence and freedom, where no man or woman or government or gun can take away from each brave and bold red-blooded American.

One hundred years ago, the small town of Felton became a farmland of field crops, planting and then harvesting tons of red colored strawberries, yellow tinted corn stalks, brown colored soy beans, and white tinted bolls of cotton.

Currently, each fertile field crop had been plowed over with rows of big and small residential houses, where each new family unit coming from metro city Birmingham slowly crept down into the soil, one day at time.

On the main highway, Tarsal slowly steered his truck inside the slower lane then occasionally turned a face while studying the new landscape. "We got a new dining restaurant. I gotta eat there this week, but not alone," he laughed. "And we got a new money lending company is in town. Or a new money laundering company is here in our fair town. I hate these types of money places. They rob from the poor people and give it all to the rich folks. I gotta tattle tale to my police chief about the new villain in town," he stopped the truck and sneered at the traffic light while carefully watching each vehicle.

The traffic turned into the color green for go. He turned onto the new roadway and slowly steered within the slower lane with the other vehicles, viewing the old landscape of older retail stores and buildings. He slowed the speed then carefully turned into a smooth, gray tinted parking lot with a huff, stopping in place. His pickup truck was last in a long line of four other stationary vehicles.

On the other side of the business structure, there was a longer line of six other stationary vehicles.

Inside the truck cab, Tarsal reached over and tapped the soft tiny screen on his personal mobile telephone, viewing the menu. "Nothing there again!" His stationary line of vehicles slowly moved ahead towards the side open window then halted. He moved his truck ahead then halted also staring through the exposed glass window on the store with a smile.

The Daughter and Mother Coffee Boutique was a coffee establishment, which was owned and operated by a team that consisted of a biological mother and her biological daughter.

The coffee business company was a short, squat single building, which appeared like a tacky field shack, on top of a solid gray colored pavement, without a single tree shade or a row of pretty flowers beds and was painted in the brightest color of hot pink hue. The glass entrance window displayed a set of young pretty females, who only worn a colorful two-piece bikini and served the new customer needs with food items, only. The coffee boutique offered a large cup of hot or cold coffee or tea. Chocolate candy bars and protein bars appeared on a tiered display exhibition for purchase also, if your taste buddies drooled for more than the pretty young coffee girls.

The charm or the curse of the establishment was the older gray-haired woman, who was fifty plus years old and worn a two-piece bikini over her wrinkled, golden tinted, salon-tanned old body frame also. She quietly sat inside the wall corner, mostly out of eyesight range while reading an adventure novel, watching over each pretty young girl for both protection and security. She and her biological young daughter were the co-owners in the Daughter and Mother Coffee Boutique.

The old woman and her young daughter started their business six years ago while both of the women had served as the two original coffee girls, standing inside the shack floor, handing over a paid beverage through an oval shaped opening on each side of the short, squat pinked tinted building.

A fleet of curious and nosy people from all over the state and beyond the Alabama state line had come then seen that old wrinkled woman inside a hot pink tinted two-piece bikini also as they had thought it was a far, far away demon tail. But they had been totally wrong and also had purchased a hot cup of black tinted coffee or a large tumbler of iced sweet iced tea. That old woman had dreamed a dream and had made a few million bucks from her nasty dream too.

Currently, her young, sexy daughter occasionally worked inside the business shack and continuous trained the coffee production to each new young girl, who was college age at eighteen years old and older. The coffee establishment opened at four in the morning and closed at midnight while serving up coffee, tea, and food bars, only.

On top of the gray pavement, in a long line of stationary vehicles, Tarsal continued to sit inside the cab of his truck and watched each young pretty girl through the wide and clean front glass window with a happy smile while pondering the new activity for his late evening hours.

Every Tuesday night, he will go and visit his parents, eating a home-cooked meal, which will be prepared by his loving mother. His parents will eat then chat at the dining room table, like usual. Tarsal will eat and then chat, like usual, also. Then the array of bright moonlight beams will burn down onto the manicured lawn indicating the time for Tarsal to leave his parents for the evening.

At 04:45 pm, within a long line of stationary vehicles, the sedan in front of Tarsal slowly moved ahead and left the shack building holding a flat cardboard tray of coffee cups and candy bars. Tarsal slowly steered ahead then stopped, turning to face the open window, smiling at the brown-haired young adult female. He said, "Hey, honey! Gimme an iced caramel mocha coffee please."

"Yes sir!" The girl said and nodded with a smile, spinning away from Tarsal, dashing ahead to the coffee station and worked on the new customer order.

Five years ago, the old woman had expanded the drink menu from plain black hot coffee and added iced coffees, hot chocolates, cappuccinos, lattes, and espresso hot and cold beverages. The tea selection was only iced sweet tea, which was very popular in the South. Thus, her clientele volume had increased with additional females and all the high and college students.

Inside the open window of the business, the young beautiful adult college student returned back and handed over the cold beverage to Tarsal. Tarsal slipped a fifty-dollar bill with a wink into her palm. He said, "Now, you pay for my iced coffee outta of the bill and you keep all the change, but one dollar. On the one dollar bill, please, write down your personal and private mobile telephone number," he smiled.

The college student giggled with a grin and accepted the fifty-dollar bill, providing back a one dollar bill that displayed in large and bold black tinted math numbers her personal mobile telephone on top George Washington's face. She said, "There's your change, sir. I get off today at seven o'clock this evening. You can meet me here and we can drive back to your place, sir," she winked at the cute male with the big pickup truck.

"That's a fine evening for me too!" He said and accepted the one dollar bill with her personal mobile telephone number, sliding the precious item down into the pocket on his blue jeans, winking with a grin at the cute college student. He said, "See ya'll later, honey!" He returned to view the road then slowly steered ahead with a smile, holding a plastic tumbler of iced coffee, slowly sipping then swallowed the tasty beverage. "He said, Yeah, they are both good," he whined out loud, like Tarsal was pretending to talk with his mother, "Hello, mom! Something came up, right now, today. I can't eat supper with ya'll tonight. We'll meet next Tuesday night. I love you, Mom." Tarsal sipped and swallowed the beverage. He said, "Yeah, that sounds good enough."

Inside the cab, his personal mobile telephone sounded with a musical scale of bass notes which indicated a new message through the text system. He reached over and swished the soft screen twice, seeing the new text message:

Signal 0. 3001 Heaton Court.

At 04:48 pm, he reached over and placed the beverage inside the cup holder on the truck dashboard, slipping his hand down, pressing the button on the door panel. The driver's window dropped down blowing back his loose blonde curls. He said with a frown at the roadway, "Geez! I gotta go to work right now!" He reached over and swished the icon on his mounted personal mobile telephone, waiting on the ring tone, hearing the new voice. He shouted out loud inside the cab to the dispatcher. "Tarsal, en route to the crime scene with lights and sirens," he pressed the button and disconnected the telephone call with the police dispatcher at the Felton Police Department.

Tarsal was a seven year employed police detective for the Felton Police Department. Normally, a patrolling police officer inside their patrol police car was not allowed to use a personal mobile telephone on police duty to call their loved ones or chat with their personal friends. That particular police mobile telephone policy had been established for years, throughout all of the USA cities, since the slick invention of the portal communication device.

Within the small town of Felton, the police department rules were flexible and loose as long as the police officer used common sense and vehicle safety. Thus, each patrolling police officer or police detective could communication by text or by voice back to the local police dispatcher, like Tarsal had did during the current police emergency.

His normal work day started at eight o'clock in the morning behind a fake light-colored wooden office desk reading the daily crime report then deciding which crime case needed his police attention for the day. Tarsal would leave the office desk and drive around the city limits of Felton while tracing then hunting down each clue, wrapping up some type of small-time crime, such like, a single burglar of merchandise or a domestic violence showdown between a non-married couple or a property trespassing with a shotgun.

The city of Felton was a small town, when it was compared to metro city Birmingham. The biggest criminal offense here in Felton entailed two drunken farm hands and one blackened eye socket. Most of the citizens within the city of Felton commuted back and forth from their home to their work job inside the city limits of Birmingham, which didn't leave much time for criminal trouble during the evening hours.

Inside the truck cab, Tarsal reached down and grabbed the object, placing the portal police siren on top of the rooftop, dropping both of his hands back down on the steering wheel, increasing his speed over the busy roadway. The police siren whirled and swirled with a blue tinted light while sounding with the loud siren for a newest police emergency. Tarsal was a police detective for the Felton Police Station and the closest police officer to the newest crime scene. Thus, he had to respond to the newest trouble. He carefully steered around each slow-moving vehicle that kindly had halted or slowed down into a crawl while maneuvering back into the right lane and then slapped down onto the brake pads. He gently turned onto a curvy roadway on Old US Highway 31 then turned towards the east onto Walker Avenue that became the new name of Heaton Court. He slapped down on the brake pads again, sliding onto the manicured lawn into a halt and then reached down, opening the door.

At 04:50 pm, on the city street of 3001 Heaton Court, within the manicured lawn setting among the hot temperatures with parted clouds of sunlight, Tarsal arrived at the crime scene first and reached over, grabbing his hand gun and the mobile telephone, sliding off the seat and running around his open driver's door. He pressed the button and spoke into the telephone with urgency. "Need police assistance at 3001 Heaton Court," he dropped his personal mobile telephone down in the manicured grass and held his police issued hand gun with his two cupped palms, targeting an unknown male and shouted out loud, "Stop! Halt! Don't shoot me! Get away from the dog, sir! Don't shoot the dog either! Stop, sir!"

Ahead on top of the nicely manicured green tinted lawn, a black tinted Giant Schnauzer dog breed raced ahead towards a stationary upright, tall and slender, unknown male with a head of brown colored cropped hair that wore a blue tinted business suit. The unknown male reared back and tossed a silver tinted crowbar at the running dog. The dog continued to run towards the male, without barking, then the dog leaned down, snatching up the crowbar, chewing on the metal, spatting out the useless tool. The black colored large work dog continued to rush towards the unknown male.

The unknown male reached down and loaded the shell into the twelve-gauge pump shotgun, lifting and then lined the eye piece for the deadly kill.

Tarsal raced ahead and pointed the cold barrel on his police issued hand gun at the unknown male, shouting out loud with his police commands. "Stop! Don't shoot! Halt! Move away from the dog! Get away from that dog!"

The twelve-gauge shotgun is the most common firearm in the world. The pump shotgun is used to kill everything from tiny doves to large buck deer, empty cans of soda for fun, and cold-blooded snakes for survival.

Last week, Tarsal had investigated a burglary alarm, when an elderly man with his twenty-gauge shotgun had tried to kill a runaway beef cow. The face on the cow was pure white. The body on the mammal was pure black. In the dark of the night, a black and white colored farm cow had appeared like a face of white man wearing a black shirt to both Tarsal and the elderly man. Thus, the cow had continued living with its life form, and the elderly man had not been arrested.

On top of the manicured lawn, the unknown male was also a seasoned hunter, who intended to kill the dog, as he patiently waited for the close encounter with the racing canine at twenty yards as the dog continued to charge directly at its prey, without stopping.

On top of the same manicured lawn, police detective Tarsal was too far away to protect both the male and the dog, shouting out loud, holding the cold barrel at the unknown male, "Stop! Don't shoot! Move away from the dog!" He didn't understand why the large work dog had targeted the unknown male, but it was obvious that the dog didn't know the man.

If the man shoots the dog with the twelve-gauge shotgun at twenty yards, the single shot would be very close and cause extensive damage to the dog's body and head while maximizing a deadly kill for some purpose.

Tarsal was too far away to protect both the male and the dog, shouting out loud, "Stop! Don't shoot! Move away from the dog!"

The unknown male pressed the trigger on the shotgun and as his body tumbled backwards from the recoil. The loud gunshot echoed throughout the air waves and each pair of eardrums. Tarsal swiftly dropped down and then slid a few feet over the smooth grass with a sneer, covering his skull from any potential skull or eyeball damage from the gunshot. A single shotgun shell flew out from the cold barrel spreading a wave of silver tinted lead balls in the air, on the grass, and into the black fuzzy chest on the racing attack canine.

At close range, the concentrated pack of lead balls neatly sliced through the neck bone and then severed the head skull from the Giant Schnauzer. The skull on the dog flew sideways through the air spilling blood and bone on the green grass, landing on top of a patch of pretty wildflowers. The running body on the shot dog continued a few more inches and then collided down, sliding into a second patch of pretty wildflowers in the manicured lawn.

Tarsal stood upright from the grass with a sneer then raced ahead with a sour frown, pointing the hand gun at the unknown male. The unknown male lowered the shotgun and exhaled with deep breaths of worry, staring down with a stern face at the severed body on the dead dog. Tarsal dashed ahead and shouted out loud. "Drop the weapon! Kneel down on the grass! Get down right now! Get rid of the weapon, sir, before I blow your skull off your body like you did that poor dog." The unknown male gently dropped the gun down onto the manicure grass then knelt on top of the short grass while staring at the dead dog with worry.

Tarsal stopped and stood upright over the hair roots on the brown-haired male, exhaling with fighting fury. The idiot could have been a lousy shooter and could have hit Tarsal, instead of the running dog. He said, "You are under arrest for tons of stuff. Discharging a firearm within the city limits. Killing an innocent animal. Obstruction of justice. Attempted murder on me, a police officer," he sneered. "Place both of your hands on top of your head!" The man complied. Tarsal reached back and pulled out a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket on his pair of blue jeans, moving ahead, kicking the rib cage on the unknown male. The male grunted out loud and instinctively folded over in pain.

Tarsal leaned down and hit the back spine on the unknown male, knocking the man onto the ground, sitting on top of the back spine with one knee. He said, "You have the right to remain silence. You have the right to an attorney. If you can't afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you..."

"Hey!" She shouted. "Hey, you! That's my husband. Hey, you! Stop that! What are you doing?" A short, overweight, black-haired middle-aged adult female wore a wrinkled, brown-tinted long dress and swiftly dashed ahead coming from the rear yard at a second residential house, wearing a sour frown, waving both of her naked, fat arms in the air and then stopped, standing over the blonde tinted hair roots on Tarsal.

Tarsal continued to kneel at the back spine on the tall and unknown male, reaching down, slapping the pair of handcuffs over the man's two wrist bones with a stern face, "I'm a Felton police officer from the Felton Police Station. I'm arresting the criminal that has caused a crime, ma'am," he finished clipping the pair of handcuffs over both wrist bones on the unknown male but continued to kneel on top of the married but unknown male.

"That's not the criminal here. That's my husband..."

"...who was running away from the once alive and breathing dog," Tarsal said turning with a frown to view the dead dog that bled over the pretty manicured yard and patches of flowers. "The dog is dead now. And the dog had served its purpose by identifying and capturing the perpetrator for me, who is a Felton police officer." A row of white and green tinted police cars sounded with a set of loud musical whistles and an array of bright blue lights on the rooftop rolling over the roadway and then slid into a halt, tearing up the pretty manicured lawn between two residential houses. On top of the manicured lawn, Tarsal continued to kneel on top of the married, but unknown male, waving both of his arms at the row of police cars. He shouted, "Over here! Come over here! I got the criminal over here."

The wife continued to stand over the blonde colored hair roots on Tarsal, wearing a sour frown with a matching tone, pointing down at her husband. "This is my husband. His name is Wallis Wollen. He and I were born here in the rural town of Felton. Get off my husband, sir!"

Tarsal continued to stare at the line of Felton police officers, in a green tinted police uniform, which were rushing towards his direction. He returned back and said to Mrs. Wollen, "Ma'am, your husband just discharged a single round of live ammo into the air waves within the city limits of Felton, which is a legal felony. First, you need to go and get his currently paid and secretly stored gun permit. Or a set of new police charges will be added to the old ones. Second, you need to go and get a bail's bondman for the money bail to bail his butthole outta jail tonight. Third, you need to go and get a criminal lawyer for your criminal husband..."

"He is not the criminal here, but there is a criminal over there," she jabbed her unpolished fingernail at the first residential home, saying with a worried face. "That dog is my brother-in-law's family pet. We know that dog. That dog knows us too. Someone has attacked my brother-in-law or his family members or both. Else, the family pet would not have run away from its family for help. You need to go over there and find out what has happened to my brother-in-law, police officer." Tarsal frowned then turned staring at the first house on the street corner. The line of police officer stopped and then formed a semi-circle around Tarsal, blocking the view of the first house. Tarsal reached down with a grin and slapped the rear bone skull on Wallis. "I bagged the criminal already, gentlemen and ladies," he laughed with the other police officers. "Please, go and collect the single shotgun shell casing and his shotgun. And please, go and get him booked and jailed. And finally, please, take him away from me!" He slid off the man with a loud laugh and stood upright on top of the grass with a smile, back stepping from the man spinning around to face the other house with puzzlement. The female had swung around from Tarsal and her husband, rushing back into her home obeying the wise advice from police officer Tarsal. Tarsal slowly moved ahead with a stern face towards the dead dog.

The dog breed displayed a dense coarse coat of black hue that protected the canine from both the weather elements and vermin. The dog possessed a docked tail, a pair of cropped ears, and the distinctive shaped muzzle beard and a pair of fuzzy eyebrows.

He stopped in front of the drowning flowers of doggie blood proteins and body fluids, standing over the severed black tinted body, that was partial covered in red blood. He said, "That's what I thought. This is a Giant Schnauzer dog breed. The dog is a work horse originally coming from the country of Germany. Its body is both healthy and furry measuring about twenty plus inches in height and weights about one hundred pounds. I do believe this is one large, powerful dog against one tall and slender male. Yeah, I understand why the male shot the dog. The dog would have killed the delicate human male body, without mercy. And the dog breed has a doggie personality that is intelligent, loyal, strong willed, kind, and powerful. And this specific dog breed is used by police K-9 units all over the world that value and abuse these doggie traits too. Why would a loyal extra-large work dog run away from trouble? That's weird! The dogs are bred to beat and defeat any type of minor or major trouble." He back stepped from the dead canine body with a stern face then spun around facing the first residential house on the corner street.

The first house displayed a two-story frame with light brown tinted brick, a red tinted tin roof, and a very large, flat nicely manicured lawn with pods of colored flowers and low-lying plant bushes that were connected to the lawn of his brother. The entrance door faced the nicely grey tinted, smooth roadway on Heaton Court. The rear lawn held a large patio setting in pink hue and an attached building which displayed with three individual white tinted metal garage doors that were closed.

The male police officer appeared and moved beside Tarsal, holding the item to the police detective. "Tarsal, here's your mobile telephone. What do we do with the two separate dead doggie parts?"

Tarsal accepted his mobile telephone and looked down, fiddling with the menu while continuing to stroll ahead towards the first house, sweating in the late afternoon sun. "I wanna keep that dead dog as a piece of hard physical police evidence. That male shot that dog dead for some reason. And I just learned the dead dog was a family pet within that residential house. Maybe, the dog went crazy and wild, trying to harm someone. I want the local medical examiner to preserve that doggie body also." He looked up to see the first house and then looked back down reading out loud the information on the tiny screen on his personal mobile telephone while moving over the manicured lawn towards the home. "The city address is 3001 Heaton Court and belongs to Mr. and Mrs. Wrest Wollen. The wife is named Wobbie Wollen. That's really hard to say with a twisted tongue. They have a nine-year-old daughter, who is named Willet Wollen, and a three-year-old son, who is named Wittoe Wollen, and a ten-month old baby, who is named Woad Wollen. This family loves the alphabetic letter of W." He looked up with a stern face and studied the first house.

The young adult male police officer strolled beside Tarsal and watched the police car with Mr. Wollen leave the crime scene. "She is not going to do that."

"She is not going to decide here. Is Mr. Wollen inside the squad car?"

"He is. And the squad car is leaving now for the police station. You got the criminal and solved the Signal Zero here. What are you doing now?"

Tarsal said, "His wife said that the family dog came from its family house. Like a good police department detective, who is working on the overtime clock now, I wanna check out the house and ask the owners about their dead dog."

The male police officer cleared a throat and then said, "I wanna remind that you need to provide your eyewitness account to me as well as you were the first responder here in the battle field. Then you arrested the suspect without another officer present."

Tarsal said, "Yeah, I'll come by, after I check out the house and talk with the owners of the dead dog. I gotta fill out my own police paperwork also," he looked down and quickly typed a text message to his parents but not the pretty young girl at the coffee boutique. If he quickly finished up all of his required police tasks, then he could be singing in manly baritone this evening.

The police officer stopped and stood on top of the grass, looking down at the red tinted stain. He said, "I don't know about this. That stain kind of looks like a blood splatter here at my boot toes."

Tarsal stopped and then back stepped even with the police officer, staring down at the green grass, seeing the red tinted stain that greatly appeared like a blood splatter. He looked up with a stern face and moved ahead at a faster pace. Tarsal said, "Come with me, officer! There might be something else going on here. Or there is another crime that has been missed here." The manicured lawn had recently been mowed which provided an excellent trail of red tinted blood on top of each grass blade that led over the pretty pink tinted patio bricks, heading through an open archway. Tarsal stopped and stared down at the faint semi-crooked line of blood splatters. He said, "Okay. To me, there appears to be a semi-crooked but faint line of blood splatters here on the grass. The faint line of blood splatters is clearly displayed on some of the pink tinted flat bricks, on the outside patio. However, why are the red tinted blood splatters going into the house?"

The police officer said, "You bagged the criminal. You need to go down there and interrogate Mr. Wollen. He can explain the faint line of blood splatters."

Tarsal said, "Or this faint line of blood splatters is his personal footfalls from his hidden murder shoes coming outta of the house. This would prove my police case for his arrest and then his conviction of murder in a court of law in a few days." He looked up and stared into the open archway. He said, "Well, I can't see into the house," he yelled out loud. "Hello! This is the Felton Police Department. Is anyone there? Is anyone harmed? Hello!" Tarsal turned and nodded to the police officer, saying. "We will slowly stroll over each clean part on top of the pink tinted patio bricks, without touching any of the wet or dried blood splatters. I wanna see inside the open archway and determine, if we need a search warrant to search the house."

"Yes sir!"

Tarsal slowly moved ahead on one side of the faint line of blood splatters along with the police officer. As he advanced closer to the open archway, the line of blood splatters turned into a distinct pattern of familiar symbols. He stopped then stood beside two lines of red tinted blood splatters, pointing down at one of the symbols. Tarsal said, "I am seeing a line of running dog paws. So, the dog is the family pet. That has been verified by the wife of an arrested Mr. Wollen. And the dog came running out of its family home. That has been verified by me. So, the dog saw the criminal and tried to kill the criminal with its mighty pair of doggie canines. I should have allowed that feisty dog the fight and the honor. Now, criminal Mr. Wollen will get a fancy criminal attorney and will receive three hot days and a cot for the rest of his life inside an Alabama jail cell."

"Yes sir!"

Tarsal exhaled with frustration, "We move a little closer towards the open archway, without going inside the murder house. This is definitely the missing crime scene which is connected with criminal Mr. Wollen. I wanna know if any of the family members need emergency help." He looked up and turned to face the open archway on the patio setting. Tarsal yelled out loud, "Hello! This is the police. Do you need help? Do you need assistance? Hello! Is anyone in there?"

The police officer looked up and stared into the open archway, without seeing any of the furniture or humans. He said, "Maybe, the dog was the only member that was injured. Criminal Mr. Wollen might have harmed that dog. So, the dog spun around to get revenge for its person."

Tarsal said, "Keep thinking, officer! That's good police detective material. Good concept!" The detective moved ahead with a stern face then stopped, leaning into the open-air space inside the middle of the open archway, gagging with mouth spit, "Geez! Someone, go and call the morgue! There are tons of dead people in here." He continued to stare in silence into the new room and as his mental mind both recorded and memorized the new crime scene. His throat tightened with bitter bile and as his stomach flipped and then flopped with his sickening nausea.

The new room displayed a breakfast nook with an eating table inside a rectangular shaped kitchen setting. The kitchen contained a black and white checkered floor pattern, a set of four white tinted walls, and a set of matching ceiling tiles. The kitchen counter tops, upper and lower cabinets, and each appliance were all colored in light hue. The splashboard behind the counter top was colored in white tint. One side wall displayed a long, wide glass window behind a round shaped dark wooden breakfast table that held four individual wooden chairs and a black tinted plastic high chair for a baby. The forward wall contained a second long and wide glass window pane near the wall intersection of the side wall, which displayed the front lawn and the driveway. The rest of the wall displayed in order, a horizontal orange tinted wooden eating bar counter with four tan colored tinted bar stools, an orange tinted granite counter top which held both upper and lower orange tinted wooden cabinets, then a tan colored stove top, and the rest of the orange tinted granite counter top extended down towards the opposite side on the wall.

On the opposite side wall, more orange tinted granite counter top contained another set of upper and lower orange tinted Burch wood with a white tiled backsplash. The entrance wall exhibited the only archway was open, a tan colored refrigerator, an orange granite kitchen counter, an orange tinted Burch wooden food pantry door, which was closed. The rest of the white entrance wall stopped at the side wall intersection.

In front of the stove top, a kitchen island stood alone made of orange granite. The kitchen had a lovely décor setting, except for the numerous zigzag lines of colored splatters of red blood stains.

On the side wall in white hue, the breakfast table held four empty chairs. The infant high chair exhibited a red tinted bloody upper and lower body on a dead young baby, without a skull head. The baby's skull head rested on top of the floor beside the doorway while a pair of blue eyeballs stared directly at Tarsal and pierced his soul with sadness and creepy emotions. Tarsal said with a frown. "I see the ten-month-old baby girl, dead." On the floor next to the baby high chair, a pair of twisted, naked pale tinted skinny legs displayed a second young child of three years old. The child was not moving and presumed in a dead state resting in a large puddle of his own red tinted blood and body fluids. He frowned. "I can see the three-year-old dead young child behind the eating table also."

The two glass window panes were covered in a thin layer of red tinted blood, where some of the fresh blood had quickly dried and decorated the glass, the tan colored lace curtains, and the white tinted walls. Some of the fresh blood was still slowly rolling down the white tinted wall and then dropped down onto the dead body on the three-year-old child and the black and white checkered floor.

The bar counter in orange granite was painted in a series of zigzag lines in red tinted blood proteins, coming from both of the two young dead victims. Numerous red tinted blood splatters covered the upper kitchen cabinets and then also flew across the rectangular room, resting on top of the tan colored stove top and beyond.

Inside the open archway, Tarsal didn't have trouble with a pair of naked eyeballs seeing the red tinted blood stains on top of the shiny metal or the orange tinted wood or the white tinted walls. Some of the blood stains marred the white ceiling tiles also.

On the entrance wall at the floor level, the body of an adult male rested even with the wall and in front of the refrigerator with a hole in his chest. The side of his face rested on top of one of the black tinted squares that were also decorated in a large puddle of red blood and other body fluids.

Tarsal said, "There is a tall male, who must be the recently deceased Wrest Wollen lying on the floor. That's three of the five members of the family unit." At the open archway, Tarsal didn't bother to enter and march further down into the crime scene. He was not a registered crime scene investigator, only a police detective while waiting on a search warrant and the crime scene responder to come and evaluate the crime scene. He exhaled with worry. "We have identified three dead bodies, so far. I am not hoping for any type of heavenly miracle here. Can you see the mother and the daughter somewhere inside the kitchen? You're on the opposite side of me. And I do not recommend entering the bloody residence until the crime scene responder arrives and the proper search warrant is in hand."

On the opposite side of the archway, the young male adult police officer softly moaned with sadness then violently gagged with stomach nausea at the messy, bloody crime scene while continuing to stand on the opposite side of Tarsal, leaning slightly down into the clean part on the doorway. He had a better eye view of the other two interior white colored walls inside the messy kitchen setting while seeing more human body parts. He softly said. "Yeah, I see the mother in a death state."

On top of the bright orange tinted kitchen island of solid wood, the upper body of a female rested over the scattered broken eating plates and cooked breakfast food items. Her lower body continued to stand and rested against the height on the kitchen island with a large puddle of dripping blood proteins hitting the floor with a slow-sounding slurping drip like a leaky faucet.

On the opposite side wall, a second doorway led into another part of the house and displayed the upper body on a young female child, resting on top of the black and white checkered floor.

The police officer said, "Yeah, the other daughter is dead too." He gagged and then coughed, slapping his cupped hand over his parted lips, holding back the vomit and quickly back stepped from the open archway within the kitchen setting. He slowly continued to move backwards then missed the two lines of bloody dog paw prints, stepping onto the green grass, turning to face a line of green and white police cars. He dashed ahead while tumbling over the grass, vomiting out his breakfast meal in green liquid over the clean grass blades without contaminating the crime scene.

At the open archway in the kitchen setting, Tarsal exhaled and then inhaled with a series of deep breaths, before vomiting up his afternoon lunch, slowly back stepping from the doorway, missing the two lines of bloody dog paw prints also. He slowly moved backwards while staring and memorizing the crime scene then pondered what had happened here and then stopped in a clear portion of the manicured lawn. He reached down and swished the familiar icon on his personal mobile telephone as the telephone dialed the number to the local Felton district attorney, who handled all local legal police crimes. He yelled out loud. "Hey! Some of the police officers go over and look inside the garage doors. And a couple of the police officers go and look over the rest of the house. Go and see, if you can find another body or an injured party inside the new house!" A couple of the Felton police officers spun around from the line of police cars and hustled ahead towards the garage building and then moved inside the house for another victim in silence.

On top of the manicured lawn, police detective Tarsal lifted the screen on the mobile telephone into his face, saying with a firm tone, "Hey, Dawner! Yeah, you have guessed correctly again. I need two search warrants for the street addresses of 3001 Heaton Court and 3003 Heaton Court here within Felton's city limits. Someone has murdered any entire family unit, including mama, daddy and all of their young kids. I got the criminal murderer, thou. He is standing behind a set of iron bars there inside the Felton lockup." He listened to the other end on his mobile telephone to the voice then said, "Thanks, Dawner. I'll see you here in a little bit to collect all the evidence for the murderer." He dropped the phone down from his stern face and disconnected the telephone call while exhaling with sadness, frustration, and confusion regarding the terrible crime. His hometown of Felton had never seen anything like this before.

The small town of Felton consists of twelve square miles, all land, and is located along one of the many ridge lands that comprises the southern end of the Appalachian Mountain chain with a land elevation of 610 feet from sea level, where a massive forest of tall pine trees makes house construction impossible. However, modern day technology produces massive pieces of man-made metal equipment that can blast away a piece of solid rock and dig into the mountainside, clearing off forest, within a week, for any and all greedy home and construction builders. The current census in Felton is a growing population of 9,098 people minus five dead humans now.

On top of the clean plot of grass blades, a few feet from the pink tinted outside patio brick base, police detective Tarsal stood in place with a stern face and watched the group of Felton police officers work.

The Felton Police Department consisted of eight police cars and eight dedicated and paid police officers that worked in the field. An internal six-people team of police support resided inside the police station. The closest neighbor city was Gardenville that would come and provide police protection during a crisis or an emergency here in Felton.

The young adult male police officer, who had escaped from Tarsal, was hidden behind one of the police cars continuing to vomit up his lunch meal from this afternoon, cleaning off his nasty mouth before resuming his police work.

The rest of the Felton police officers worked together while marking and sealing the core crime scene with the yellow tinted police crime scene tape.

On top of the grass blades near the outside patio, Tarsal pocketed his mobile telephone back down inside his sports jacket then slowly moved ahead towards the group of standing police officers, without stepping on the faint line of bloody dog paw prints on top of the grass blades, tossing both of his arms in the air, commanding the line of police officers. Tarsal said, "This is the core crime scene over here. Please, go and get the yellow tape and start blocking off an area larger than the core crime scene. I want the yellow tape stretched out from the rear patio floor and all the way down towards the two individual dead dog body parts. Lucky for us! Felton is a small town without the hub of media television vans and nosy television reporters. So, we only have to worry about the nosy on-lookers." The group of police officers swiftly rushed around the line of police cars and the open plot of manicured grass while obeying Tarsal's commands.

Tarsal continued to stroll around the grass and shouted out his orders. "No one enters the crime scene, without a search warrant. Else, any collected evidence will be dismissed as an illegal seizure and then tossed out by the court trial judge." He stopped and stood in front of the line of police cars, tossing both of his arms in the air, saying with a stern face. "Someone, go and call out neighbors, the Gardenville police officers. Ask the police department, if one or all of them wanna work some nice overtime hours over here in the city of Felon?"

One of the older and mature female police officers appeared and stood in front of Tarsal, wearing worried brow. "Our chief of police, she isn't going to like your decision, Tarsal."

Tarsal looked at the female police officer with a nod and a stern face. "Our police chief has no choice here in the newest police matter. Felton is only eight strong police officers here. We need the extra uniforms and muscle, in case, we are invaded with a gang of nosy on-lookers and rude media hounds. You and I can't handle that mess here," He continued to stand and waved both of his arms in the air, saying with a stern face. "I wanna secure the crime scene by creating a physical barrier with the yellow tinted yellow crime tape coming from the paved roadway on Heaton Court and going all the way down to the pretty rose garden, where the dead dog is located."

She said, "What dead dog?"

Tarsal pointed at the dead dog and said, "The murderer shot and then killed the family pet dog that was about to eat off his face for killing all of its loving family members. The interior of the first house contains body parts of the entire family unit. The manicured grass contains two halves of a Giant Schnauzer that rests between me and that rose garden. Go and get the tape and mark off a very, very large crime scene!"

The female police officer turned and stared at the first house with puzzlement. "A Giant Schnauzer breed is a very, very large work dog and it is also a K-9 favorite with its police handler and an un-favorite foe with the police officer. Why didn't the gigantic dog kill the murderer first, before your police arrest, Tarsal?"

Tarsal continued to wave both of his arms in the air while directing the traffic of police officers, still standing in place while watching the group of police officers work. "I don't know. I can't answer that."

She stared at the house then turned to survey the dead dog on the messy grass blades, "That's so strange. A Giant Schnauzer is a loyal and devoted part of any family that will kill first and ask questions later, like my man, Austin Berrington."

Tarsal returned back and frowned at the nose profile on the female officer. He said, "Officer, I enjoy entertainment moments also. But this is a true crime scene, not a pretend Quartet action sequence. You can read about all the fun and gory Quartet stories tonight, after your supper meal and bedtime ritual. Get to work right now!" The female police officer looked up to see Tarsal with a stern face and nodded in silence, back stepping from him, spinning around to finish her police work.

A new mature male police officer appeared and stood beside Tarsal. "The interior rooms inside the murder house is both cleared and cleaned of additional blood proteins without a single dead or alive and breathing stranger. There are not any more dead bodies or live or dead canine dogs throughout the other parts of the murder house. The murderous action seemed to have occurred only in the kitchen arena."

"Thank you," Tarsal said while moving ahead then stopped, pointing at the semi-crooked line of police cars. "Right here on the edge of the manicured green tinted lawn and off the gray tinted roadway, I wanna a vertical line of police cars blocking any access onto the grass. Heaton Court holds only these two local residential family units inside their individual home. I want two police officers standing right here in front of the line of green and white ugly police cars shooing off nosy people from the crime scene." He back stepped from the row of cars then turned to face the murder house, slowly moving along the edge of the grass, without disturbing the crime scene. He pointed ahead and sweated in the hot sunshine with a stern face while calling out loud his police commands. "And someone, go and call the engineering department at City Hall. I need a line of sawhorses right here to over there running along the edge of the manicured green tinted yard also. That should hopefully keep all unnecessary people, pedestrians, mammals, animals, and on-lookers from entering onto the crime scene." He moved down the edge of the manicured lawn and crossed the concrete driveway, turning to face the opposite city street Walker Avenue, continuing to move over the manicured grass while looking at the house.

At 05:11 pm, an older model black tinted two-seater sports car appeared on the side city street and then slapped down on the brake pads, sliding over the manicured grass at the murder house, halting a few feet from Tarsal. The driver's door opened and revealed a tall, overweight, and pale tinted male with a head of cropped brownish-gray hair, leaning over the door with a smile. He said, "Hey, Tarsal," the familiar male held out a thin stack of two yellow tinted pieces of paper towards Tarsal and held a mobile telephone that was attacking his eardrum, saying with a smile into the speaker box on the phone. "Yeah, honey, I'll be home for supper. I got a quick stop with a signed search warrant over at a new crime scene. I love you, too, babe," he pocketed the mobile telephone and wiggled the pieces of paper at Tarsal, turning to see the house. He said, "I got two search warrants in record time before the magistrate's office closed down for the day. Is this the murder house? Is there a bloody mess inside? Do you need a legal search warrant for the dead?" The local district attorney laughed alone.

Tarsal moved ahead and accepted the two pieces of paper with a sour frown, looking down, reading each warrant. He said, "No, Dawner. I think the dead people are happily lonely and isolated in heaven or hell, if you believe in that kind of stuff. What happens when one dies?"

Dawner returned and smiled down at the blonde hair roots on Tarsal. "I don't know yet. Well, I gotta go and have supper with my wife and kids."

Tarsal looked up and nodded to Dawner, saying with a grin. "Well, I have already arrested the perpetrator. It was the next door neighbor. I'll give the two search warrants to the CSI man and then we both can search the two homes and grab up any more physical evidence for your courtroom. I don't think the murderer had time to hide all of this bloody murder tools before his bailout tomorrow morning."

Dawner said with a smile, "All righty! See ya'll tomorrow morning or later this week, Tarsal. Good night," he slid back down into the driver's seat and closed the door.

"Night, Dawner!" Tarsal said and stared at the moving sports car, exhaling with too much evening police work. The black tinted sports car with the local city district attorney slowly steered away from the murder house and Tarsal, moving back onto the roadway, heading to his house for the evening hours.

A new shiny red tinted sports car appeared on the same roadway and slid over the manicured yard, stopping on the side of the road, tearing up the nice grass. The door opened. A thirty-three-year-old, tall, slender adult female, possessing a head of long red hair, a pair of green eyes, and a tone of pink skin, wearing a short purple colored dress and a pair of matching fashion high heels slowly stood upright from the car seat and shouted out loud with a smile, "Hey, Tarsal! Well, the medical examiner had arrived to determine the preliminary cause of death on the new dead people. Where's the crime scene?"

"Welcome, Geannette!" Tarsal said with a smile. "Your death services will be fast and simple tonight. Each body is dead and torn apart by some type of blunt force sharp instrument." Geannette scooted around the open car door and stabbed the manicured yard with each fashion spiked heel, moving ahead towards the rear of the house while laughing at Tarsal's sick humor. Tarsal slowly padded beside her while making small chat-chit and funny conversations, without the other police officers hearing the cute banter with the single and available medical examiner.

At 05:14 pm, in the rear patio surface setting among the hot temperatures with bright sunshine, medical examiner Geannette stopped with a smile and stood in front of the open archway into the crime scene, staring with a sour frown down at the head on a ten-month old baby. She said, "Who's this?"

Tarsal pointed down at the floor and the object with a smile. He said, "I do believe that is a dead baby head, which is nicely covered in a pod of rich black tinted sitting house insect flies."

She frowned at the bloody floor and the rest of the messy kitchen, slowly back stepping from the archway with a smile. "I had deducted that already. Well, my death services are swift, fast, and simple, tonight. I gotta a hot date for dinner, but it isn't you, Tarsal." She leaned into his bicep with a giggle and a wink.

He said with soft laughter. "I do believe that there are not any eyewitnesses to the murder crime and buckets of physical bloody evidence."

She continued to stare down at the bloody floor then softly laughed. "Do you carry a mop inside your truck, Tarsal?"

He said with a sour frown, "O! Another funny professional tonight! No, I do not."

She frowned down at the crime scene then grinned, "As the only working medical examiner this afternoon on duty, I do not have to determine the cause of death right now. But based on the bloody mess inside that kitchen, I will examine each dead body inside my sanitary morgue laboratory environment, tomorrow morning, right after my breakfast entrée and hot cup of green tasty tea. Bye, Tarsal! I know that I'll be seeing you later this week," she spun around with a smile and exited from the patio surface, disappearing around the house corner.

He stared at the bloody mess, without thinking about food then said. "Yeah, you will. Bye, Geannette!"

A new female police officer appeared, stopped, then stood beside the nose profile on Tarsal, cringing at the bloody crime scene, "Sir, I have set up the yard parameter and separate work stations for the CSI teams."

"Thank you," Tarsal said and back stepped from the archway inside the kitchen, spinning around with a stern face, moving away from the crime scene.

At 05:16 pm, on the front lawn setting, Tarsal slowly moved around the front portion on the house and searched an empty roadway for the next police officer then stopped standing in place, on top of the manicured lawn which was parallel to the city street of Heaton Court while holding the two search warrants for two separate houses, when a second vehicle stopped a few feet and parked on top of the grass also. The older white full-sized van displayed the words: Felton Police Crime Scene Unit.

The engine stopped. The driver's door slid open and revealed a tall, athletic male, who possessed a head of black colored short hair, a pair of brown tinted eyeballs, and a tone of dark colored skin. The male scooted around the open door and carried a red tinted bag that held his crime scene equipment, moving ahead toward Tarsal. He was the CSI forensic examiner.

Tarsal extended both of his arms even with the grass, saying with a smile and a nod to the new male. "The CSI man has arrived and is present on the crime scene."

The CSI forensic examiner said with a smile. "I like my double overtime and double paychecks. Good afternoon, Tarsal! It looks to become a late night event for us, tonight, buddy. You go and get the case of cold beer. I'll call in and order the boxes of hot pizzas."

Tarsal said with a stern face. "You have no idea, Zimb. I think we'll be here until dawn's early light."

Zimb moved ahead over the manicured lawn towards the house, saying with a stern face. "No. The collection process moves really fast. I didn't see Dawner. This is so weird having a true crime scene here in little Felton. I finally get to use my true crime scene skills, this time."

Tarsal exhaled with concern then said, "Yeah, I guess. Dawner just left us. He provided me with two search warrants for this house and the other house. The other house is the brother of the deceased and the current murderer who is residing inside the Felton jail cell. Wait until you see the crime scene."

He smiled. "Well, I learned from my CSI School that there is no typical crime scene. There is not a typical body of evidence and there is no typical investigative approach." They both turned the wall corner from the front porch setting then scooted around the row of low-lying plant bushes, stopping in the manicured grass. Zimb stared down at the bloody patio bricks with a shocked gasp then said, "Wow! There's a blood trail on top of the patio that leads directly into the interior rooms on that house."

Tarsal said, "O! I can explain." He continued to stand beside his co-worker Zimb and wiggled side to side with concern. "Actually, their family pet, a dog had come running outta of the house chasing after the murderer and created the two traces of bloody dog paws. I arrived in time to see the dog go after the murderer of the family."

He said with a frown, "Wow! This is really weird and totally strange. Where is the dog now?"

Tarsal said, "The murderer, who is also the brother of the dead people, killed the dog with a twelve-gauge shotgun. I tried to stop the idiot, but I was unsuccessful."

He exhaled with worry then said, "All right! I seemed to have missed all the fun action here. Let's go and collect the legal evidence for district attorney Dawner, before the sun sets at nine o'clock here." He moved ahead then stopped, standing beside the two lines of bloody dog paws on top of the clean bricks, examining each blood print. Tarsal moved ahead with a stern face and stepped over the two lines of bloody dog paws, standing on top of the clean pink tinted brick, slowly moving ahead towards the open archway. The open archway was trimmed in tan bricks on the exterior wall. The red tinted metal door was open and had been slammed against the wall with great force keeping the crime scene exposed. On top of the patio, Zimb slowly turned to face the open archway and examined the exterior wall. He said, "The exterior wall is clean except for the two set of bloody doggie prints on the patio. First, I will slowly perform the initial walk-through getting an overall feel for the crime scene, finding out if anyone has moved anything. As I walk through the crime scene, I am going to generate an initial theory on the criminal behavior pattern based on my visual examination of the crime scene. I will first take down notes without touching anything first. You are my assistant here. Do you understand, Tarsal?"

"Yeah."

He dropped the red tinted bag on top of the patio brick and unzipped the top, pulling out a couple of items. He turned to face Tarsal and held a silver tinted video recorder devise and a pad of unlined notebook paper in-between his bright smile. He said, "Now, do you wanna video record the initial walk-through with me? Or do you wanna use the pencil and the notebook of paper for drawing a sketch of the walk-through. Usually, the CSI man or woman will document the crime scene by taking glossy colorful photographs with the digital camera and drawing numerous sketches of the crime scene during a second walk-through. But since you're here with me, we can accomplish the first two tasks at the same time, saving time."

Tarsal said with a smile. "You handled the video recording device and the video-taping session, last time. So, I get to video tape the new crime scene, this time."

He said with a frown, "Last time! When was the last time I video-taped a murder scene here in Felton?"

Tarsal said with laughter. "Three years, you handled the video recorder device and..."

"... you got the pencil and the paper." He reached out and handed a pencil and a small pad of notepaper to Tarsal, saying with a smile. "The pencil has an eraser for erasing the wrong line on the paper. Use it, Tarsal!" He stood upright from the patio brick and continued to hold the pencil and paper with one hand and the video recorder devise in his free hand.

Tarsal tossed both of his arms in the air then dropped both of his hands accepting the pencil and paper, "Fine! I'll take the pencil and paper notepad." He fiddled with the items and smiled at his co-worker.

Zimb lifted the video recorder screen in front of his two eyeballs, pressing the button, recording the crime scene. "I'm so glad that you agreed with me. On the second walk-through of the crime scene, I'll take the glossy colorful photographs with the digital camera. Then you can video tape the crime scene for a second time. I don't wanna miss anything important. Are we ready?"

Tarsal grinned. "Important! I'm ready, Freddy." He slowly moved ahead and stopped in front of the exterior wall beside the open archway, without leaning in the air space, blocking the video recording of the crime scene, in silence.

He slowly moved ahead, recording the two lines of bloody dog paw prints, on top of the pink tinted outside patio surface and then stopped, standing at the edge of the open doorway, seeing the flying swarm of black tinted house insect flies. His presence perturbed the flies. Some of swarms of flies lifted from each body then flew into the ceiling tiles. He soft yelped and swiftly back stepped from the open door with a sour frown, saying with worry, "Geez! My CSI instructor never mentioned pods of black colored house flies on top of each dead body. Now, this is scary, gross, and unsanitary."

Tarsal leaned over into the side of the door frame while viewing at a new set of sitting black tinted house flies over each dead body. "Yeah, the heated weather is the hot month of June. The kitchen door has been opened for an hour or so now. I guess the little critters flew right inside and decided to stay, parking on each dead body. Does a fly eat the human skin tissue or drink the human blood?"

He said with a frown. "I think the fly swims around in the wet blood and lays its millions of fly eggs for fun and the swarm of baby flies hatch alive and then fly away from each dead body." He leaned through the air space on the open archway and wiggled his hand side to side in the air waves. A swarm of black tinted house flies lifted off the head on the dead baby and then flew up into the ceiling, buzzing around for a new parking spot. Zimb stared at the head of the baby with a gasp. He lifted the screen on the video recorder devise and scanned the bloody floor moving up towards the breakfast table, slowly scanning the bloody side wall with the bloody glass window. He slowly shifted the video recorder camera lens over to the rear wall and documented the zigzag lines of numerous bloody splatters on top of the eating bar, each bar high stool and the orange granite kitchen counter, in silence. He gently removed the video recorder screen from his distorted face and then depressed the button, shutting off the recording application. He said with a sour frown and stared into the kitchen. "Ugh! This kitchen room is a complete red tinted bloody mess."

Tarsal continued to stare into the bloody kitchen space. "That's why you're the CSI man and I'm still a police detective."

He continued to study the crime scene also. "Blood proteins are everywhere covering each body, the floor, every wall, every glass window, and the ceiling. Before we start the initial walk-through, you and I need to wear the pair of hazard booties over my shoes. I don't wanna get blood on my leather or any blood proteins tracked on the clean parts of the house. Do did something check the other part of the house?"

Tarsal said. "Yes, this house is two stories both tall and wide. Some of the Felton police officers ran through the other sections inside the house and the garage building. There were not any other dead bodies or dead dogs or dried blood proteins."

"All right!" He back stepped from the archway and stopped, standing back in front of the large red tinted bag.

Tarsal back stepped then stopped, standing beside Zimb on the opposite side of the twin lanes of bloody dog paw prints, looking down into the dark hole inside the bag. "What's inside your bag of tricks?"

"It's a bag of treats. My bag contains..." He pulled out two pairs of yellow-tinted rubber-type booties that fit over an individual shoe sole. "Here! Place this pair of booties over the bottom of each shoe sole. The bootie fits any size or any style of foot ware."

Tarsal accepted the new set of yellow tinted booties and rubbed the material with puzzlement. "This isn't made of strong paper. It feels like a rubber shoe or a solid matter like a piece of chewed bubble gum."

"It's a special blend of syndicate material, that's used on a hazard decontamination full body suit for the really big messy, bloody CSI jobs, like now. Each rubber bootie fits like a shoe that easily slides over your shoe sole, without your falling off or falling down over onto a dead body."

"It looks like a Dutch clog, without the tall wooden platform part," Tarsal back stepped and leaned against the side wall, lifting his leg then slipped the rubber bootie over his first boot toe and heel, stomping down, feeling the sturdy balance with comfort. He duplicated with the other boot sole then stood upright on top of the patio in silence.

Zimb leaned against the patio column and slipped on his pair of rubber booties, stomping both feet over the hard brick on the patio, nodding with a smile at the new rubber booties. "Now, we can perform the initial walk-through." He moved ahead then squatted down, lifting the video recorder device for a second time, viewing the screen of pink tinted bricks on the patio floor. He slowly moved ahead and pressed the button, recording the crime scene, staring with the twin tracks of bloody dog paw prints first. He slowly strolled ahead and continued to record the open archway, wiggling a free hand at the sitting black tinted flies that covered the severed baby's head. The flies sailed up towards the ceiling tiles for safety. He continued to document the baby's head with the open eyelids and two piercing blue eyeballs that stared back in silence.

He stepped up from the patio floor then landed his first rubber bootie on top of the bloody floor while he sounded with a soft moan. His rubber sole sounded with a loud swoosh down into the semi-wet blood creating a tiny squeaky sound and as Zimb cringed with creepiness. He continued ahead and lifted his second rubber bootie, gently placing the rubber sole down onto the bloody floor, duplicating a second tiny squeaky sound on the second sole. Zimb lifted his first rubber bootie that slightly stuck to the semi-wet bloody floor hearing a loud slurp on the flat sole as it was released up from the gooey blood puddle on the floor. He placed his first rubber bootie down into a new puddle of blood creating a new tiny, squeaky sound and continued to hold the video recorder screen in front of his face, documenting the same wall corner that was marred with lines of red blood streaks, exhaling with nervousness. "Okay! Halt! This is not going well in here. The kitchen floor is completely covered in either dried blood pockets or wet puddles of dripping blood proteins that still fall down from the upright dead bodies," he looked down with a gasp. "And both of my rubber booties are covered in blood. I'm afraid that I'm going to contaminate the new crime scene as I continued to drag more blood over the already bloody floor," he slowly back stepped on his second rubber bootie hearing the tiny slurp as first sole was released from the bloody floor.

Tarsal stood beside the open archway, without leaning into the air space, wearing a confused brow. "So, what are you going to do about the blood puddles on the floor? They can't be moved or swept away like...like a batch of dust bunnies. You must walk over the blood and the hard floor recording the entire crime scene a number of times."

"Yes, I know that." he continued to stand in front of the open archway and held the video recorder device in both naked hands, without recording any of the bodies while studying the crime scene. "Go and look inside my bag of treats, Tarsal. Pull out that tiny blue tinted rubber floor mat. It has a curved rim around the edge to collect and capture any blood proteins like now from my pair of bloody rubber booties, without painting the clean brick with blood and contaminating the crime scene."

"All right!" Tarsal back stepped from the open archway and spun around, carefully moving ahead and slid over the top of the two tracks of bloody dog paw prints and then stopped beside the red bag. He squatted down and reached inside, pulling out the blue tinted floor mat, standing upright from the bag. He swung around and faced the back spine on Zimb slowly moving ahead and then stopped. Tarsal squatted down and gently stretched out blue tinted rubber floor mat a few inches from the edge on the kitchen doorway, slowly standing upright, without hitting the back spine on Zimb. He slowly back stepped from the item and his co-worker Zimb, saying with a stern face. "Okay. The floor mat is in place for your two bloody rubber booties. Do you need my help climbing backwards out from the doorway without falling down?"

"No, thank you! I got it!" He slowly back stepped then placed one bloody rubber bootie at a time on top of the rubber mat as each rubber bootie crashed down with a loud squeaky sound. He exhaled with frustration and removed each rubber bootie from his regular shoe sole, carefully back stepping from the pair of bloody rubber booties and the bloody rubber floor mat. "Okay! That didn't work out very well. Now, we will dress in a pair of rubber trousers that hold a pair of rubber boot."

Tarsal turned and frowned into the crime scene. "Why would we do that?"

"For one, I don't want red tinted blood stains painted onto my pair of tan colored trousers. Two, the rubber trousers cause any type of blood splashes to fall back down then splash down onto the bloody floor. Woo! It's a real mess in there. I haven't started my initial walk-through. But, after standing in there, some madman has sliced and diced each human body with an axe or a large hatchet. There're only halves and pieces of body parts, not an entire whole human in there."

Tarsal exhaled with worry. "Wow! I'm glad that I'm a police detective. Who cleans up inside the murder house after we leave here?"

Zimb stopped then stood in front of his red tinted bag, staring with a stern face at Tarsal. "The family is responsible for the clean-up after all the police and legal forensic evidence has been gathered by me, the CSI man. However, I think the family unit is all dead. If the next of kin was smart, he or she would burn down this house and replace it with a new one," He spun around with a stern face and raced across the patio surface and then slowly climbed over the yellow police tape, dashing across the clean grass blades, moving back to his CSI van. "I got to go and grab two pairs of the rubber trouser products. I'll be back in a few seconds." Zimb disappeared from eye view.

On top of the pink tinted patio brick floor, Tarsal stood in place and stared at the manicured lawn. The police officers had done a good job with the crime scene arena. On the city street of Heaton Court, someone had ordered then received a set of tall and wide colorful dump trucks. Yes, there was a semi-crooked horizontal line of six dump trucks, that were not filled with earth dirt. The line of trucks completely blocked out a pair of nosy eyeballs from each nosy neighbor from seeing the wiggling yellow police tape and the rear patio on the Wollen house.

The crime scene yellow tinted police tape had been stretched out beside the row of dump trucks which turned then headed on a parallel course even with the second house and then formed a nice square-shaped figure that ended on the back side of the garage building. The police tape encompassed the entire manicured lawn of short, soft green grass and pods of pretty flower patches between the yards on the two houses.

In front of the row of six gigantic dirty and colorful dump trucks, a set of fresh and alert Gardenville police officers stood upright and paced side to side while directing the nosy neighbors and the slower vehicles away from the crime scene. The day shift Felton police officers had retired after five o'clock and were home with their wife and kids for the suppertime meal. The night shift patrol officers from the Felton city police department was patrolling each city streets, looking for any more trouble.

On top of the patio bricks at the first house, Tarsal looked down at his wrist watch. The time read: 5:31 pm. He technically could leave the crime scene as he was only a police detective, not a member of the CSI team. His job was to interview all the eyewitnesses. He had seen a car of people leave out from the second house, the home of Wallis Wollen. The car was traveling to the local police station and working with the bail's bondman to return Wallis Wollen from jail for the murder of his brother and family members plus the family pet dog. But Tarsal wanted to stay and help his friend and co-worker Zimb. Zimb had become the CSI man last year which hadn't really challenged his brains or his skills, until now.

Zimb dashed around the building and held two pairs of yellow tinted trousers across his arm, saying with a smile. "Here! I got us a pair. The rubber trousers slip over both of your legs and your shoes like a pair of pants, without a hole on the bottom." He shuffled through the grass and the police tape, stopping on top of the patio next to his bag, handing the second pair of trousers to Tarsal. "Now, we will dress in comfort and then attack the crime scene. When does the sun fall down?"

Tarsal accepted the pair of rubber trousers and tickled the rubber material with a soft chuckle. He leaned the pair of stiff rubber trousers against the side exterior wall, on the patio. Then he leaned against the wall and slipped off the pair of clean rubber booties sitting away from his body on top of the patio. He reached over and leaned down, slipping the soft but stiff rubber trousers over his legs and his boot heels, slightly jumping up and down and straightened the crouch around his private parts. He said, "This is the summertime days and nights. The sun sinks down at nine o'clock."

Zimb finished dressing in his pair of rubber trousers then squatted down, lifting up the video recorder device for a third time, covering his face and pressed the button. He looked down and recorded the twin tracks of bloody dog paw prints for the third time then slowly moved ahead towards the open archway. He re-recorded the severed baby head that had been covered in black tinted flies again and slowly climbed the step, landing his rubber boot sole on top of the semi-wet bloody floor and created a new swish sound. He cringed with creepiness. Zimb continued ahead and lifted up his second rubber boot, gently placing it down on top of the bloody floor, duplicating a second loud swish sound on the second sole, lifting up his first rubber boot that slightly stuck down to the semi-wet bloody floor hearing a loud slurp on the flat sole. The bootie released up from the gooey blood puddle on the floor. He placed the first rubber boot down into a new puddle of blood creating a new loud swish sound again.

Zimb continued to hold the video recorder screen in front of his face and documented the same wall corner which was marred with lines of red blood streaks, exhaling with nervousness, holding in place. He slowly turned the video recorder screen and documented the red blood on top of the light-colored wooden eating table and each matching sitting chair. He continued to slowly swing the camera lenses then stopped, recording the body on the dead baby, inside the pink and white colored high chair.

The baby's high chair seat and food tray were covered and colored in red blood. The baby body had slumped forward from the impact of the blunt instrument, without the skull head, and was still seated in place within the crossed maze of baby restraining blood-covered straps. The naked body parts on the dead baby was blue tinted and as the pink tinted baby clothes were soaked in red tinted blood proteins that had come from the severed head wound and maybe blood from her dead brother.

Inside the crime scene, on top of the black and white checkered floor, Zimb lifted up his first rubber boot, hearing the loud slurp coming from the puddle of sticky blood, shifting closer to the eating table and recorded the dead three-year-old child. Dropping his first rubber boot back down into the wet blood, he created a swish sound. He moved his other foot hearing the slurp sound again then quickly dropped his rubber boot down onto the floor creating a second swish wound.

Zimb leaned over the flat surface on the eating table of solid blood. The screen on the camera captured a thick swarm of sitting black tinted house flies that covered one of the severed arms and the broken rib cage that had been sliced away from the dead child. The skull head was still attached on the body and covered in black tinted house flies too. The blue tinted, skinny body rested sideways over the floor while still sputtering out a stream of blood proteins coming from the boy's broken rib cage and his open neck wound and loudly burped out the body's interior gases from his butthole. A large puddle of blood continued to slowly drown over the black and white checkered floor, slowly moving ahead towards the open archway. Zimb hit the wooden table with his naked elbow by accident sending a set of wiggling puddles of wet blood over the surface edge. The blood proteins dropped down then hit against one of his rubber trousers then finally moved on his rubber boot, splashing down onto the floor into a pond of wet red tinted blood proteins sounding with a tiny thump. His trouser leg captured a set of red tinted blood proteins, without sticking to the yellow rubber. The droplets of blood proteins slowly tumbled down the soft material sounding with a soft eek-eek sound as each thick blood protein gently dropped down with gravity onto the wet floor with a loud splat. Zimb lifted up the video camera devise over his hair roots and looked down with a worried brow. His trouser leg was covered in red blood proteins slowly slipping down over the soft rubber as his two eardrums picked up each soft eek-eek sound.

Tarsal stood outside the open archway, wearing his CSI gear, looking down at the bloody floor. "Do you want me to enter the crime scene, Zimb?"

"No. No. No." He back stepped from the bloody eating table as each one of his rubber soles swished in an eek-eek sound, in reply. He shook the trousers leg side to side as each blood protein swiftly dropped down with a loud eek-eek sound. He dropped down his boot sole as his rubber sole loudly slurped in response. Zimb rapidly moved backwards from the dead bodies and the bloody furniture pieces while hearing an alternating song of swish and slurp coming from each boot sole over the pond of still red tinted blood. And the falling blood proteins musically created a fast-paced eek-eek sound while dropping down each one of his rubber boots and then finally the blood-covered floor. He shouted out loud in panic, "This is not working either." He back stepped from the kitchen space and stood upright on top of the blue tinted bloody floor mat, exhaling with worry, talking to the exterior side wall. "No! This is not working either. I...I keep getting blood everywhere. Blood is everywhere. Where did all this blood come from? I can't believe all this blood came from five people. I wonder if there are more dead people in there than...than just five people."

"I don't think so, Zimb." Tarsal continued to stand in place near the side exterior wall on the open doorway while staying perfectly clean from the blood proteins, leaning down into the air waves and stared at the floor while hearing the tiny buzz of the black tinted house flies, shivering in horror for the event and the terrible sadness for the five lost souls. "What do we do next?'

He swiftly wiggled out of the pair of bloody trousers with the pair of attached boots, leaning the dirty item onto the clean part of the side brick wall on the exterior of the house, back stepping with his regular shoes away from the bloody floor mat. He spun around with a stern face and exhaled with nervousness, moving ahead, tossing both of his arms still holding the video recorder device, viewing Tarsal, "All right. I need to think here. The pair of rubber trousers have caused more blood to fly around the crime scene room. I can't keep splashing all the blood proteins around the clean parts on the floor."

Tarsal turned and frowned at the crime scene. "What clean parts on the floor? The entire floor and the walls and the ceiling are covered..."

"I know that. I will accidentally cover up the any set of clean finger prints from the murderer, if I continue to move across the floor in a pair of bloody trousers. That floor is a pond of blood. I know. I know what to do now."

Tarsal frowned. "What do we do?"

He turned and thumbed back over his collar bone with a smile and a nod, where the CSI van was located in the front lawn of the Wollen house. "There is a complete rubber suit inside the crime scene van. There are two or three of them. So, we wear a complete rubber suit. The rubber will deflect off each flying blood protein from the suit and back onto the surface of the dead body or the table surface or the counter top surface."

Tarsal frowned. "O! It will!"

He spun around from the side wall and nodded with a smile at a row of low-lying green tinted plant bushes. "Yes, it will. I'll go and get the two rubber suits for us." he moved ahead and shuffled through the police tape, quickly disappearing around the corner out of sight.

Tarsal exhaled with frustration and stood in place. The crime scene responder was talking too much and taking too long with his CSI job. Tarsal had his own police report to type and then file, before he went to bed at midnight.

Zimb quickly returned from the CSI van and held a silly looking pair of rubber suits that completely covered a human from the throat down to the toe nails. He didn't bother to provide instructions and tossed the rubber suit to Tarsal. Zimb quickly dressed in the full suit and reached down, grabbing the video recorder device into his face, pressing the button. He slowly waddled ahead and recorded the twin dog prints, the open archway, the baby head that was covered in black house flies again. He slowly stumbled up the step then landed on top of the bloody floor, turning to record the entrance wall. Zimb had a produced a good video recording on the side wall inside the crime scene on the bloody glass window and the bloody wall corner, still showing the upright headless ten-month-old baby and the lifeless three-year-old older young brother on top of the bloody floor with a sitting swarm of black tinted house flies. Each one of his rubber boots loudly squeaked hitting each stationary bloody puddle then loudly slurped with a new gulp-gulp sound while leaving the sticky, bloody floor as he slowly moved ahead towards the new body on top of the floor, a tall and slender adult male. He slowly back stepped with fright and cut off the video camera devise, sliding back down onto the outside tiny blue tinted bloody rubber mat, wiping the sticky blood from both of his CSI shoes. He leaned over and handed the video recorder device to Tarsal. He accepted the item with puzzlement.

Zimb spun around and moved ahead ripping off his helmet then his CSI rubber suit, slapping both items down inside a row of low-lying green tinted plant bushes, freeing his body and tossed both of his arms in the air, shaking his bone skull, saying with a worried brow. "I can't handle this new crime scene, all alone and by myself. There...there is blood covering each body, the floor, every wall, every glass window, and the ceiling. I need some extra help here."

Tarsal continued to stand on the opposite side of the open archway and away Zimb, holding the warm video recorder devise, nodding with a slight grin. "Okay. I'm trying to assist you here, Zimb. I mean, I am a police detective. I understand legal and police policy procedure."

He continued to wave both of his arms in the air and said with a worried brow. "No! No! I didn't mean you and me. I need one of the expensive Birmingham CSI units up here."

Tarsal gasped in alarm and shook his curls. "The police chief is going to object to that."

He waved both of his arms in the air and said with a stern face. "Yeah and no! And the police chief has no choice in this police matter. I can't collect, pack, and label this bloody mess all by myself. The police department in Felton is only assigned one crime scene responder, which is me. Usually, our crime scene is one tiny blood splatter on one side wall coming from a human broken nose. This is too much work for one responder here. I got no choice. I could be here for days and nights as the evidence dries and is consumed by maggots and flies and ticks, until the bodies all rotten." Zimb reached down and whipped off the clipped personal mobile telephone from his brown tinted leather belt, swishing the tiny screen, pressing the new icon. He lifted the phone into an eardrum while saying to Tarsal. "I'm calling on one of the Birmingham CSI units up here to Felton to start and then finished the crime scene job. They have at least six or seven members on a team that includes

Tarsal gasped in shock. "Uh! You should not do that, without the police chief's permission."

"I am one person. I cannot do this gigantic task alone, without a massive staff of helpers," he continued to stand with a worried brow.

The personal mobile telephone sounded with a set of saxophone musical scale of bass notes. Tarsal looked down and removed his personal mobile phone from the pocket on his blue jeans, swishing the screen, seeing the new text message. "Geez! I gotta new Signal Zero Code at 2404 Stouts Court," he looked up then turned to face the western sun, blinking both of his eyelids into a squirt.

Zimb smiled with a nod. "I can go and take your detective work, Tarsal. You can stay here."

Tarsal continued to stare at the western sun in blindness from the bright sunshine. "No! I'll go and investigate."

He moved ahead with a smile and quickly left the patio setting, without Tarsal, shouting out loud his new orders. "No! You need to stay here and update the approaching Birmingham CSI team unit with all the murder information. You arrived here first and own the entire story to share. Right now, I'm really useless here. I'll go and find out, who is illegal armed now. Then I'll come back and collect all up of my CSI stuff from the exterior patio wall. Be certain to mention that's my CSI gear. I don't want the Birmingham CSI team leader stealing my stuff. My stuff costs a lot of money. So, I'll hook up with you tomorrow morning and we chat about our newest crime scene."

"All right!" Tarsal spun around with puzzlement moving from crime scene and watched his friend and co-worker Zimb leave the new crime scene. Tarsal felt sad, relieved, broken, grateful, worried and loved for his job, his person, and his family members.

At the same time, around the corner of the house, a group of people in blue tinted CSI gear appeared and shuffled over the yellow police tape while carrying large bags of CSI equipment. The leader of the CSI new unit team moved ahead then stopped, standing in front of Tarsal, wearing a smile in silence, without extending a handshake.

Tarsal quickly explained the short version of the murderer using both of his arms and hands with numerous head nods, pointing into the house and outward towards the manicured lawn. He had captured the murderer, but the CSI forensic team had to find the correct physical evidence that placed the murderer inside the murder house with the unknown murder weapon. Tarsal had to piece together the motive and the intent, inside the mental mind of the murderer, who had killed his own blood kin and then provide all that information to district attorney Dawner for the prosecuting court trial.

After finishing the short story, Tarsal had been dismissed by the CSI team leader while the CSI team set to work for the long evening inside 3001 Heaton Court collecting, gathering, packing and labeling bloody physical evidence.

An hour later, at 06:18 pm, among the bright heated sunlight, a tired and frustrated Felton police detective Tarsal slowly moved away from the CSI team and left the outside exterior patio brick, shuffling over the police tape, strolling across the lawn towards his parked pickup truck. He couldn't offer any police or legal or medical assistance here at 3001 Heaton Court as the second crime scene unit from metro city Birmingham continued to process and label the new core crime scene. He stopped then exhaled with a sack of mixed sad and happy emotions, sliding back down into the smooth tan colored leather driver's seat. He started the cold engine and stared through the clean windshield at the pretty manicured lawn that held an assortment of strangers, who were tearing up the pretty patches of flowers and destroying the lovely green grass while looking for answers from a jailed murderer. Tarsal slowly reversed the pickup truck away from the line of police cars then spun around, slowly steering down the paved road on Heaton Court while pondering a quiet dinner with his parents. He didn't feel like entertaining the young college student tonight, maybe later in the week. Tarsal wanted to visit his family and hug each parent with love and protection tonight.
Wednesday June 6th

Felton Police Station location

Police lobby setting

Hot temperatures with parted clouds of sunlight

08:08 am

Tarsal parked his truck inside the police station parking lot exiting out from the vehicle while pondering the next police step in the new murder case. He slowly moved ahead with a smile feeling a little better about the capture of the true murderer, where legal justice would prevail and then win for the victims of the dead family members. He slowly entered through the front door at the police station lobby then stopped, standing at the lonely front desk with a smile, lifting his hand at the cute female police receptionist. "High five!" This was their morning ritual that he shared with his co-workers. Behind the lobby office desk, the female police receptionist looked up with a sour frown and shook her black shoulder length curls in silence at Tarsal. He continued to hold the palm near a smile and looked up, turning to see each member on the Felton police force with curiosity. "What!" Each police staff member stood in place on the floor or sat behind their assigned office desk while staring back at Tarsal, wearing a sour frown and shaking a head of hair also in silence.

Wallis Wollen marched ahead from the side wall that contained a set of three small prison jail cells dusting off the grass and clay particles from his dirty dress shirt while staring at Tarsal, moving ahead with his wife.

"Hey!" Tarsal dropped the palm down then pointed at Wallis, saying with a confused brow. "The murderer is out of his jail cell. The murderer isn't supposed to be out until his jail cell until the murder trial date. What's going on here?"

The police receptionist stared at the back spine on Wallis and softly said to Tarsal. "Tarsal, the police chief has requested your presence in a private meeting inside her office right now."

"Shore!" he moved ahead with a stern face. "What's everyone looking at? What's going on in here? Did the murderer meet the bail amount of twenty million dollars? Does anyone have any answers around here?"

At 08:10 am, shuffling towards the private office setting with Police Chief Jacquerie Melum, a confused, angry police detective Tarsal swiftly moved ahead down an empty aisle in-between two rows of new chrome plated office desks, wearing a sour frown then stopped, reaching out, grabbing the door knob, and swung open the door. He stared in silence at his commanding supervisor with a stern face.

Police Chief Jacquerie Melum possessed a tall, athletic body frame with a shoulder length hair of brown tinted that she kept pulled back and tucked behind the nape of her neck for professionalism and convenience. She displayed a pair of brown eyeballs and a tone of dark skin at the age of forty plus years old. She had worked her person up the police ladder of success starting out as a rookie street patrol officer. She sat behind her new office desk that glittered in silver and blue tones underneath a row of bright artificial lights, staring with a smile at her employee. "Tarsal, come in, close the door, and sit down!"

He shuffled inside a few feet and gently closed shut the door. He was a good southern gentleman that believed in fighting words, not fighting fists. He frowned. "I'll stand. Thank you. My murderer is escaping from his jail cell."

She pointed at one of two chrome plated matching chairs in pale blue metal, wearing a smile of deception and annoyance at her troublesome employee. "That man is named Wallis Wollen. He is not the murderer. He is a..."

"...killer..." Tarsal moved ahead with a sour frown and stood in front of the glittering new office chair of chrome, pointing down at the row of glossy colored photographs from the murderous crime scene at the Wollen murder house. "Did you see all of the murder photographs? The body parts were sliced and then scattered everywhere from the ceiling down to the floor boards."

She continued to sit in her office chair behind a glittering metal office desk, staring with a stern face at Tarsal. "Why did you arrest Mr. Wallis Wollen?"

Tarsal pulled the new chrome-coated sitting chair closer to her new metal pale blue tinted office desk, placing both of his pointy elbows on top of the hard surface, staring into her brown eyeballs without words. He wasn't the head of the Felton Police Department, but he enjoyed trying to intimidate his police chief during a professional chatting session that involved his police behavior and her police authority. Tarsal smiled. "He lifted up his personal nasty shotgun and then fired a single shell into the horizontal air waves, after I had hollered for him to drop down his weapon without killing me. That's a police felony, Chief."

She leaned back into the new matching pale blue chrome made office chair with a thickly padded seat in the hue of silver leather, which gave the office a flash of sophistication and an ounce of comfort on her tender butthole. Tarsal enjoyed leaning over her desk surface, since his first day on the job at the Felton police force seven years ago. She enjoyed annoying Tarsal and slightly scooted back from his sour breath. She nodded with a smile back at her annoying employee. "He is a one of our most law-abiding citizens here in Felton. He explained in great detail, to me, that his young two children were peacefully playing in the back yard and then heard a set of loud ear-piercing screams coming from inside their uncle's house. They quickly ran inside their house for both safety and then tattled to their father. Their father grabbed his registered and legal shotgun and exited out his house, racing across his manicured lawn without reaching their portion of the manicured lawn. He stopped with a gasp and stared with curiosity at the family pet, the giant big black colored Schnauzer, who was running toward him at great speed and growling like an attack dog. Then he tossed a tool at the dog. The dog ate the tool and then continued to run toward Mr. Wollen, without stopping. So, the other brother Mr. Wollen, in order to protect his family and his person, shot the dog dead. You showed up about the time the gun went off."

"I showed up, before the gun went off."

"And a crazy family dog is an excellent reason to fire a live round of ammunition within the city limits of Felton. Mr. Wollen is a free man and his lawyer is going to sue you and us for defamation of his social community character."

"I disagree with Mr. Wollen and his motive and his intent and his statement. We should fight the defamation lawsuit."

She frowned. "Why did you book Wallis Wollen for the cold-blooded murder of his precious family members?"

"The family dog identified Wallis Wollen as the murderer of its loving family unit. Dogs know stuff. And a family pet is both a guard dog and an attack dog that will attack the killer of his family unit."

She smiled. "I can't argue with doggie logic and behavior. However, Wallis Wollen had to kill the dog before the dog attacked and then killed his person."

He pointed down to the specific glossy colored photograph with a sour frown. "What is the explanation for a faint line of bloody dog paw prints on top of the grass blades? The doggy paw prints are heading out from the house and then advancing ahead toward Wallis Wollen, because he murdered his brother and all of his brother's family members inside his brother's house. The dog saw it and reacted to it."

"I can argue that the two lines of bloody dog paw prints are going into the house also. A dog pisses and shits in the grass, not inside the house. I have a dog. Do you own a dog? We don't know where the dog was during the murder acts either. Because a dog can't talk in a set of American words, only pants and woofs. And the current family pet is dead. The dog could have entered into the house and then tracked his set of bloody dog paw prints back through the yard while tracking something..."

"The murderer, I had arrested the murderer."

She shook her curls. "Wallis Wollen is not the murderer here. The Birmingham CSI team didn't find one single finger print on one single dead body part coming from any of the deceased Wollen family members that identifies the brother Wallis Wollen as the cold-blooded murderer."

Tarsal shook his blonde-haired curls. "I don't understand how the crime team found a clean fingerprint anywhere within that bloody mess. I was there. I saw the kitchen setting. The entire place was painted in red blood, not pink bubbles."

She exhaled with annoyance and rattled the papers of the final CSI report in the air, dropping the papers back down on top of her shiny office desk. She nodded with a sour frown. "I must admit when I saw the set of colored photographs. I gagged out loud and then mouth spit out my vile bile, after seeing the swarm of black tinted house flies on each posed dead body and the massive amount of painted red blood puddles or ponds that covered everything. I didn't know a body could produce some much blood. The first CSI report from the Birmingham crime laboratory is not clear. Different types of blood proteins cover each dead body. The unknown and unfound murder weapon torn and ripped up delicate human skin apart and then sprayed every body's blood proteins all over the place and on each person. For example, the baby head is covered in mother, father, older brother and older sister's blood proteins. The blood type is Type O so far on each blood test which makes this all complex also. This murder case is going to be impossible to solve. Do you have any ideas or suggestions or comments?"

"Wallis Wollen has the answer. He committed each murder and he is free on bail now."

"Wallis Wollen is not charged with anything but breathing free air molecules. And he didn't pay any monies for a bail or into the police pension fund either." She exhaled with annoyance. "Look! I'm trying to solve a murder, not annoy a citizen. If Wallis Wollen murdered his blood brother and the other family members, then you go out there and find me his murder weapon. Then I'll believe you, Tarsal. Now, I can't figure out what murder weapon was used to kill these poor people," Melum looked down with a stern face at the row of glossy photographs. "There are too much missing pieces here," she looked up with a smile. "But you are the paid police detective here and you have a police job to do now."

Tarsal frowned, "Geez! What about not obeying a police officer command? He could have missed the dog."

"He didn't."

"He could have been a lousy hunter."

"He wasn't."

"He could..."

She frowned, "Enough, Tarsal! Look! You followed the right police procedure also in my book. But Mr. Wallis Wollen wants my head and my job. I like my job and my head. I want you to go and apology to Mr. Wollen."

He sneered. "What!"

The closed door slid open and revealed a familiar face. Zimb smiled, "Chief!"

She leaned over her empty office desk and stared with a fake smile at Tarsal. "This conversation has not ended, and that apology is coming with my punishment and your reward, Tarsal," she leaned back with a smile to her other employee. "Good morning, Zimb! Please come inside and tell us about yesterday. What did you find out there at 2404 Stouts Court? There was another cold-blooded family murder yesterday late afternoon at a different residential home also. Zimb did not receive the Signal Zero Code but he responded anyways. However, I was wondering why police detective Tarsal received but didn't respond to the same Signal Zero Code."

Zimb entered the room and slid down into the second pale tinted chrome chair with the thick pad in silver hue, leaning into the back rest, sounding in metal pain from his tall and large body. He reached up and slapped his chest with a smile. "That was me, Chief! I had quickly evaluated the Wollen house and found too much blood and too many body parts. I, alone, could not handle the work load before morning's light. So, I called in one of the Birmingham CSI team units to complete the job..."

"...on my dime and my clock..." Chief frowned.

He nodded with a stern face. "I'm really sorry, Chief. Honestly, I'm a new CSI responder and the only one here within the city limits of Felton. That crime work scene was too big and too much CSI collection site for one lonely and good-looking person. And Tarsal had participated in some of the action there at the Wollen house without capturing the real murderer. So, he held all the vital information that needed to be shared with the Birmingham CSI unit. Thus, I went and investigated the new Signal Zero Code. And I found confusion and chaos. And I brought here all the colorful glossy pictures that the Birmingham CSI unit had nicely provided this morning," he handed over a stack of colored photographs to Tarsal and then the chief. He exhaled with worry. "Okay. First, the crime scene had been completely compromised."

She gasped. "What! How did that happen? What happened to the police evidence for an arrest of the murderer?"

He frowned. "First, the family unit had died inside their own house. When I arrived, every single family member of every deceased person had arrived before me and was located there inside the house and all around the grass while contaminating the crime scene. The house was a one-story home of less than one thousand square feet. When I arrived, I immediately entered the house through the open front door and then I was greeted by a group of wailing and crying blood relatives. The rear door had been broken open and then split in half, compliments of one of the family members. Someone had smelled smoke and broke down the back door hoping to save the family members.

"One of the dead bodies had somehow fallen on top of the heated gas stove grill in the kitchen and caught fire. The fire truck was there at the scene before me. The truck of firefighters had fought off a fiery blaze inside the kitchen coming from the numerous heated cooking pots and pans that contained tons of bacon grease. The grease fire quickly spread through the back part of the small house and ignited each bedroom setting on the opposite side of the wall through the kitchen space while burning everything into black tinted cinders.

"The front part of the house contained a small enclosed living room, where a side wall had been decorated in blue and white paper streamers that were ripped and torn apart and covered in tiny black ashes also. All the blue and white balloons had popped into a mess of long rubber pieces from the intense heat inside the living room. There was a long wooden table on the same side wall that contained rows and rows of heavy dishes of cooked food and a single white tinted birthday cake. This information had been shared by the sister of the deceased mother and she also provided me with all of her mobile telephone pictures, when she had visited her sister early in the afternoon.

"The deceased mother was a piano teacher and a housewife and the mother of three children, who are all dead now. The deceased father worked at the local power company as a line worker, a good job for a hard-working family man. The youngest child was in the pre-kindergarten class at Felton Elementary school. The middle child was in the third grade at the same elementary school. The oldest child was in the fifth grade at the same elementary school. The family didn't have an enemy or a foe based on verbal testimonies from each neighbor and relative and friend. They were a normal hard-working American family like me and Tarsal and you.

"Inside each of the three bedrooms, the fire damage is very extensive, where the two youngest children died of smoke inhalation. Inside the kitchen, the mother's body had fallen down onto the gas stove top and caught fire, starting the blaze. The body of the deceased father had fallen down by the feet on the deceased mother."

She frowned. "This is all very strange. Do any of the mobile telephone pictures or the CSI photographs provide a clue to the new murderer? This was no accident here. The mother falls into a burning gas stove top who is cooking the family meal and then she dies in a fire. Then, all down of her family members die in the same fire also inside the same house. What about her and his relatives? Do any of the blood relatives have an opinion or comment about the house fire or the dead residents?"

Zimb nodded. "I interviewed every single relative there on the grass and inside the house as each one had been told to arrive at five o'clock in the late afternoon for the fun birthday party. The oldest son was going to be nine years old yesterday and his family was celebrating the happy event with him. Strange enough here! The living room setting pretty much survived and suffered only in tons of black tinted sticky ashes coming from the blazing fire. But the body on the dead son had been discovered underneath the wooden table that contained the food platters and his birthday cake, instead in the middle of the living room setting. His body is comprised of crashed bones and ripped skin tissue, where some of the body parts were severed from the direct impact with the heavy table wood. I didn't know if the Birmingham CSI forensic lab workers can piece together any type of criminal evidence here. The body of the boy is flatter than a pancake. The bodies of a young female toddler and a female baby are both a bag of toasted chips. And both of the parents are carried in a small paper cup of gray ashes. Even the enamel on the teeth has melted or fused onto the burning kitchen floor."

She nodded with a stern face. "I am assuming here that you called in a second Birmingham CSI team unit on this CSI job into the resident home on 2404 Stouts Court."

He nodded with a stern face. "Yes ma'am! The police officers of Felton were busy with patrolling or sleeping at home in their private bed. I was there and service both as a police detective and a CSI responder. I was needed to interview each individual relative and gather up all the mobile telephone pictures to tell the story. The house was completely ruined. The CSI team spent all night gathering and labeling tiny pieces of legal physical evidence. However, the lead CSI team member on the Birmingham unit thought the crime chore as useless and worthless."

She exhaled. "I see this is not going to be an easy police case to solve."

Tarsal continued to sit in the pretty metal chair and frowned at the police chief, "It was a gas stove grease fire. There isn't a police investigation case to solve here. It was a celebration for a birthday party. And the parents started drinking alcohol without eating food, since lunchtime. They become happy and intoxicated which has led to unhappiness and death. That is all here."

Zimb looked down and frowned at the nose profile on Tarsal. "The father was a nice family man per his family members and neighbors."

Tarsal exhaled with a nod and stared at Melum. "And every nice family man becomes a happy drunker when drinking. And every sweet mother becomes a happy drunker when drinking also. We are only human. We consume alcohol and it affects our mind and our body. This is a terrible fire accident. That's all, Chief!"

She nodded to Zimb. "When will the fire chief produce a final report?"

Zimb nodded. "Today, sometime, the fire chief and his crew of firefighters were out there at 2404 Stouts Court also working on wetting the grass in case of accident spark of fire while the CSI team was inside doing their thing. The fire chief told me that he will cite the gas stove as the cause of the fire. He might suggest that the mother and the father of the deceased where intoxicated with alcohol beverages as there was a birthday celebration. Then the mother tripped then fell over her two bare feet, landing down on top of the blazing gas flames. Nothing could save her. However, her husband was intoxicated also, and he didn't understand or could not comprehend would have happen either. They both burned up in each other arms in love and stupidity."

She nodded. "Well, let's not tell that version to the mayor or the media. Is any clean portion inside the burnt house searchable for any type of police evidence of crime?"

Zimb nodded. "Yes."

She turned and smiled at Tarsal. "Tarsal, go out there and find me..."

"This is a fire tragedy, not a murder spree, Chief," Tarsal shook his curls with a sour frown. "I need to go back to the Wollen house and find your answer."

She frowned at Tarsal. "First, I am the police chief. Second, you are the police employee. Third, I want you to go out..."

The closed office door swiftly swung open in silence and revealed a new person. "Excuse me!" A new face appeared and as the female body stood inside the archway. She possessed a head of shoulder length strawberry-blonde colored, straight hair strands, a pair of green eyes, and a tone of pale skin. Zimb and Tarsal, both spun around with a gasp to see a tall, slender unknown female inside the office archway. The female swiftly slid a few inches from the open archway without closing the door and then smiled at Melum. "Hello! I am so sorry to disturb you, Chief Melum. I am police detective Pearlet Beauton. I graduated from Birmingham University three years ago with honors and received a bachelor's degree in criminal justice. I have worked for the Gardenville Police Department the day after my college graduation with my dream of becoming a police officer. I started out as a rookie police officer and served one year and then make the grade for a police detective, which I have obtained for two years and counting forward. I heard about the two cold blooded murders that involved an entire family unit here in Felton. And I have working death theory for you that goes like this. A.B.C. One. Two. Three. Doe. Ray. Me. Peanut butter and jelly."

Melum continued to sit in her glittering office chair and gasped in shock. "A.B.C. One. Two. Three. Doe. Ray. Me. Peanut butter and jelly."

Zimb frowned at Pearlet. "What is she saying?"

"What is she singing? Who are you again?" Tarsal frowned at Pearlet.

Pearlet moved ahead with a smile and stopped in-between Zimb and Tarsal. "A.B.C. One. Two. Three. Doe. Ray. Me. Peanut butter and jelly. Walker Court. Heaton Court. Stouts Court."

Melum gasped in alarm. "A.B.C. One. Two. Three. Doe. Ray. Me. Peanut butter and jelly. Walker Court. Heaton Court. Stouts Court," she looked down with a stern face and swiftly cleared the row of photographs into one pile towards the each of her shiny desk with one hand. She reached over and pressed the green button on the opposite side of the desk inside the control panel, staring with a worried brow down at her office desk surface, waving with her hand to Pearlet. "Yes. Yes. Please come inside and have a seat with me, Detective Beauton." She dropped the hand onto the office desk top surface and continued to stare at the surface. Tarsal and Zimb continued to sit and then spun back around, gasping at her glowing metal office desk. Her metal desk was empty of upright free-standing objects but illuminated in an array of bright vivid colors, displaying a white background with separate black wiggling lines, blue wavy lines, red tinted lines, pink and orange tinted boxes, and circles of green hue.

Tarsal scooted backwards then slid over, holding his chair out for the female detective, wearing a smile in silence. Pearlet moved ahead with a smile then slid down into Tarsal's chair, staring down at the glowing hard metal surface of the office desk with a smile. "Please call me, Pearlet. At the Gardenville police station, we like to be friendly and use first names for both convenience and respect. Is your office desk top glowing? Is your office desk top morphing into an actual landmass geographical map?"

Melum stared down at her glowing desk top, "Yes, this is the latest technology for use by the Felton Police Department. Each police business office desk in here is made of metal and houses an internal computer chip that can see the world, if need be, using a signal from one of the many outer space satellites that orbit our planet. My office desk metal surface right now literally shows an electronic world of the Felton landscape. Each black tinted wiggling line is a roadway. A blue wavy line is a fresh water stream or circular pond of fresh water. A pink tinted box represents an individual residence. Each orange tinted box is an individual business company. A circle of green represents the forests. A red tinted line represents the dead and active railroad tracks." She touched the desk surface with her finger pad as a yellow circle appeared near the black solid line next to the following set of yellow tinted words: Walker Court, Heaton Court, and Stouts Court." Pearlet and Zimb continued to sit and stared down at the glowing and colorful electronic map on top of the office desk surface.

"What is the secret code here? I don't understand what she said before that went something like this. A.B.C. One. Two. Three. Do. Reed. Do. What does a peanut butter and jelly sandwich have to do with this murder case? However, I do know where the names of the three different city streets are located." Tarsal stood beside Pearlet and stared down at her natural strawberry-blonde tinted hair roots, in silence, without viewing the new electronic map on top of the chief's metal desk.

Melum looked up with a stern face to see Pearlet. "Why is Walker Court mentioned in your death theory, Pearlet?"

Tarsal continued to sneer down at the hair roots on the young female police detective. "What is your working theory, here, again, Detective Beauton? I don't understand. I didn't get your secret or confusing or convoluted message, Chief."

Melum leaned back and slapped the edge of her office desk without interrupting the electronic image on the hard surface, saying with a smile to each face. "A.B.C. One. Two. Three. Doe. Ray. Me. Each individual segment is a sequential order of the first three letters or the first three numbers or the first three musical notes without interruption. A.B.C. This is the first three letters on the English alphabet. One. Two. Three. This is the first three numbers in any mathematical string of numeric numbers. Doe. Ray. Me. This sequence is the first three musical notes on a very short song. Pearlet had used a common three sequence riddle that allowed me to figure out her working theory by adding the known city streets of Walker Court and Heaton Court and Stouts Court, which are really actually three differently named city streets here in Felton."

"What about peanut butter and jelly sandwich? What is that sequence riddle there?" Zimb frowned at Melum.

Melum smiled. "Everyone knows three sequenced letters PBJ implies a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, which is another common three-lettered object also. Do you understand now?"

"No." Tarsal frowned.

Zimb laughed. "Well, you could have said a tuna fish sandwich which implies a tuna fish sandwich."

Melum frowned. "No. A tuna fish sandwich does not have a set of letter sequences. And a tuna fish sandwich is announced as a tuna fish sandwich. The three letters PBJ is automatically known as a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, without announcing out loud the full statement, only the three letters."

Tarsal frowned. "Chief, what does all of these silly three-thing sequence thingies mean? I am still confused."

Melum winked at Pearlet. "He doesn't get it."

"I guess not." Pearlet smiled at Melum.

Melum gently slapped both of her hands on the edge of her metal office desk with a stern face. "Ladies and gentlemen, we have a serial killer loose within the city of Felton."

Zimb gasped. "No!"

Tarsal shook his curls. "No, I completely disagree, Chief."

Melum nodded to Pearlet. "Please explain your death theory, Pearlet."

Pearlet placed a stack of paper photographs in her lap and lifted the first one near her nose profile, saying with a nod and a stern face to Melum. "Yesterday, at four o'clock, a family of five was murder in cold blood by a stranger in Gardenville, which is only a few miles northwest from here. I came here unexpectedly to discuss the idea of a serial killer which has affected both of our small towns with you, Chief. And I have brought a set of paper colored photographs that I had received from the Gardenville CSI team from the crime scene." She held each paper photograph in the air near her jaw line without covering up the electronic map on the office desk in front of the police chief. "Now, you can clearly see each dead body and it is completely covered in blood. The family of five consisted of a mother, a father, and three small children like the other two dead family units here in Felton. One of the children had attended the Gardenville Elementary School and was in..."

"How is that possible?" Melum continued to study each paper picture.

Pearlet nodded. "The murder home is located inside the trailer park is off of Highway 31 and located on a city street in the city of Gardenville, which is called Walker Court. That residential property is actually filled with illegal peoples that come from the foreign country of Mexico..."

Tarsal continued to stand beside the chair with Pearlet on top of the hard floor with sour frown at Melum. "O! I see clearly also. We don't investigate any of the illegal aliens here. They kill each other over a cold mug of beer, all the time. That's not our America." He laughed out loud with Zimb, staring at Melum.

Melum looked up with a sour frown to see her troublesome police officer. "Stand down and sit down, Tarsal! I understand that the children from that trailer park property had all attended the Gardenville school district around here. Now, what other serial killer characteristics are you seeing here, Police Detective Pearlet?"

Pearlet nervously wiggled the single colorful paper picture in front of her chest. "I have only identified the 'entire-family-murder-of-five-members' murder theme which is extremely uncommon during a murder killing spree. I would like to review and survey the other two homes here within the city limits of Felton, with your permission, of course, Chief Melum. I have cleared this new avenue of my police investigation with my commanding supervisor. And he agrees with me and hopes that we can collaborate together on this unusual murder spree. You can call and clear this with my commanding supervisor..."

"I know your commanding supervisor. And if he agrees, then I do also. So, I'll be contacting him after my meeting and tell him that you are on my detective team immediately. We have a serial killer loose among the natives here in Felton. I want some solid leads and solid evidence pieces. The mayor will be calling me very soon, after he finds out this new deadly information."

Tarsal nodded. "We should keep a lid on top of this vile secret then, Chief."

She frowned. "I wished it was that easy, Tarsal. This is too big to be kept a secret. The small town of Felton has seen two murder sets, which has killed an entire biological family. Now, the town of Gardenville has found a third entire murdered family unit displaying the same type of murder scenario. No! This is going to get hot very quickly, which is making me heated, as well."

Pearlet smiled. "Maybe, I can see another identifiable common factor that is shared with the other two murder houses which could help pinpoint and capture our shared serial killer."

Tarsal frowned down at her strawberry-blonde colored hair roots. "You would be better off reviewing and surveying each dead body. The body is the dead victim here, not the fixed house. How old are you, young detective? What did you find from your own set of dead aliens?"

Melum reached over and scooped up the messy pile of glossy colorful photographs from each murder house, looking up, reaching out and handed the thin stack to Tarsal. "How convenient! My police detective Tarsal was about to go and review a series of glossy and colorful photographs from each murder house also and then he was going to see each dead body too while trying to find, capture, and bring in the new serial killer. Tarsal, he will work with you on this new and intriguing serial killer murder case. Now, you and Pearlet get going and leave my private office. You can use the extremely large conference room and tape all the pictures on the new wall, breaking out all of the colorful markers and use it on the new white boards right now..."

"I can work with Pearlet also." Zimb turned and smiled at Pearlet.

Melum turned and smiled at Zimb. "No. I have another job for you, Zimb. Pearlet and Tarsal, get going, and find me that mysterious serial killer! I'll contact all the local squad cars on patrol through the city streets of Felton, right now, providing the newest information keeping while staying both alive and alert. Thank you!"

"Yes ma'am!" Pearlet stood upright from the chair and reached down, gathering up each paper photograph and reached out, taking the new stack of photographs from Melum. She cuddled the new stack of items into her chest standing with a smile of accomplishment. Tarsal didn't wait on the new detective girl then spun around, moving ahead, opening the door with a sour frown. He exited the office then slowly moved straight across the open work police room.

At 09:09 am, moving towards the large police department conference room, Tarsal entered the open door and sat down at the conference table with a stern face in silence, reaching down and pressed the button. The metal conference table illuminated with an electronic and colorful map of Felton which was used for tracking criminal activity. He greatly desired to leave the police station and then return back to the scene of the crime at the Wollen murder house of blood. He didn't believe the serial killer theme, if that was the correct term.

However, Tarsal must prove to Chief Melum that Wallis Wollen was the cold blooded murderer of his biological brother and other family members. The family pet Giant Schnauzer breed dog had identified the true murderer.

He whispered for his eardrums only. "A dog is man's best friend. A dog is the protector of its loving family members. A dog will defend, defeat, and then destroy a predator that tries to harm its loving family unit. That's the job of a dog that God has created to oversee mankind with honor, respect and love." Tarsal nodded with a slick smile then turned to face the white board, wiggling the blue marker in his writing hand.

At 09:11am, inside the Police Chief's office, Pearlet scooted back from the office desk then spun around with a smile, swiftly exiting the office environment in silence, gently closing the office desk. She moved ahead across the busy police work room, seeing Tarsal in the hallway moving ahead towards a wall of conference rooms.

Zimb stayed in the metal chair and smiled at Melum.

Melum stayed behind her glittering office desk and cleared her throat, shaking her curls at Zimb. "There is no typical crime scene. There is not a typical body of evidence and there is no typical investigative approach."

He nodded with a smile. "I have heard those statements before, Chief."

"Excellent, Zimb!" She nodded with a smile. "A crime scene investigation is the meeting point of science, logic, and law. Processing a crime scene is long hard work that involves documenting all the conditions at the scene plus the collection of any type of physical evidence that tells what happened and hopefully direct points to a murder criminal, which is all the police information for the local district attorney lawyer to prosecute that criminal."

He nodded again. "Yes ma'am!"

"Are you comfortable as a new CSI responder, Zimb?"

He slightly sneered. "Have you been talking with Tarsal?"

She frowned. "Why would I care to talk with Tarsal? He's a police detective. You're a CSI responder."

He exhaled. "Yes, of course."

"I didn't talk to anyone. The lead CSI team leader had to provide me with a final police department report that included all of the CSI evidence results from the Wollen home on 3001 Heaton Court. I do not see your name as one of the CSI responders on the report."

He exhaled. "I had taken the Signal Zero Code call last night."

"I understand that. You did a good job interviewing each person there at that crime scene. However, you had contacted a second CSI team unit from Birmingham at my expense again. And I didn't see your name on the new report from the on 2404 Stouts Court. Do I see a pattern here, Zimb?"

Back inside the conference room setting, at 09:14 am, Gardenville police detective Pearlet entered the room with a smile and felt a high set of confidence with her new brilliant discovery, stopping on the opposite side of the table, gasping in shock. The conference table was made of shiny red tinted metal on the edge and displayed an electronic white tinted background with an array of colorful map features that exhibited the landscape of Felton, a much larger version than the office desk. She spun around with a smile and placed each single picture on the white board, looking down for a piece of tape, scanning the new room.

Each conference room wall had been painted in tan colored that contained glittering sparkles of paint chips. The metal table displayed a long rectangular look in bright red tint that glowed underneath the row of artificial lights. Each metal chair was painted in matching red tint with a thickly padded golden leather seat. The entire room appeared sleek and shiny from an outer space Hollywood movie.

The side wall contained two long white boards for a visual presentation. The entrance wall contained a single metal silver tinted door without a window that was surrounded by a large vertical built-in metal shelf that held empty spaces and pieces of equipment.

The rear wall was a solid glass window that overlooked a forest of green woods.

She scooted sideways then stopped beside a vertical metal shelf and grabbed a tape dispenser for her short-term manual police work, sliding back in place, in front of an empty and clean white board. She cuddled the stack of pictures and arranged the first murder house at 3001 Heaton Court on the white board, which formed a rectangular shape. The photographer had snapped the first picture from the entrance door into the kitchen.

The first picture presented a severed baby head that featured a fuzz of blonde colored hair strands, a pair of blue eyeballs, a tone of blue tinted skin, and a swarm of black tinted house flies, and the four light colored wooden legs on the breakfast table.

The second image showed the top surface on the light-colored breakfast table with puddles of red tinted blood and sitting black colored house flies, a standing white and pink tinted baby high chair with a headless blue tinted body on the dead baby and two glass windows were covered in blood also.

The third picture showed the bloody floor and a sideways pose on the three-year-old toddler male that was covered in both his red blood and the sitting black tinted house flies.

The fourth picture showed the side white tinted wall near the open door, where the dead father in a gray tinted business suit rested on his back spine, in a large puddle of his red blood proteins and a swarm of trapped black tinted house flies. His sideways face had been severed and sliced off from his pale skin tissue, only showing the white tinted skeleton bones in splattering tones of red tinted blood and more black tinted house flies and a head of blonde tinted hair strands.

The sixth picture displayed an island work station in bright orange Burch wood, where the body of the mother had been cut in half. Her upper torso consisting of a bloody blonde tinted head of hair, two intact naked, bloody dangling blue tinted arms, and an intact and bloody upper body of blue tinted that worn an orange tinted sleeveless shirt with a swarm of black tinted flies resting across broken dishes and various spilled food items that held more sitting black tinted house flies. Her lower body stood upright, like magic, which was stuck down into a thick pond of her own blood proteins standing on her pair of blue tinted naked feet. She wore a pair of white tinted walking shorts that looked red from all her spilled blood proteins.

The seventh picture displayed a second open archway that led into a new room, where a human broken collar bone in white hue was connected to a blue tinted naked human arm and a set of exposed white bones at the rib cage on the dead elementary female child. Red tinted blood proteins and black tinted flies covered the naked blue tinted skin tissue. The partial body part rested down in a thick puddle of red blood on top of the black and white checkered floor.

The eighth picture exhibited a white tinted grand piano and a matching white colored sitting bench in the background. On top of the beige colored carpet, a nine-year-old elementary female child rested on her sweet face with a head of long blonde, bloody hair strands down to her stomach in a large puddle of her own blood, where her exposed white tinted collar bone, her naked, blue tinted arm, and her exposed rib cage of white bones were all missing, which was located inside the kitchen floor. Her lower body was intact and painted in blue tint skin tissue wearing a pair of pink tinted walking shorts and a pair of naked feet. A swarm of black tinted house flies flew up from her tiny dead body, after laying its nasty eggs, that had been snapped in the CSI photograph.

At the home on 2404 Stouts Court, the set of loose pictures formed a perfect square shape.

The first picture, on the top corner, exhibited a blackened kitchen space, where a long pile of burnt ashes represented the father, who rested vertically on top of the blackened burnt floor. Two piles of gray ashes represented the mother, who rested on top of the blackened metal stove and part of the blackened floor.

The second picture, on the opposite corner, displayed an empty shell with three tiny bedrooms that had completely burned from the rooftop beams down into the red tinted dirt, creating a set of three tiny black skinny poles that represented some of the lumber wood inside each room. The floor was both black ashes and red dirt. It was difficult to see each pile of gray ashes in the snapped CSI photograph.

The third picture, on the bottom, displayed the living room space, where a gigantic television plasma screen stood alone and was seared with black ashes along with the back wall. The side wall was intact and painted in bright cheery peach tone, where the human ashes had blown away or had not landed there. The wooden floor was littered with numerous large and small objects that resided inside the living room, which was unharmed.

The fourth picture showed the opposite side wall scene, where a long wooden table had fallen down then collapsed down onto the dirty floor. A pair of twisted naked legs in blue tinted skin was attached to a pair of matching bare feet that protruded out from underneath the flattened table, like a Hollywood horror movie. The pair of blue colored legs belonged to the nine-year-old dead elementary boy. The rest of the exposed dark wooden floor was covered in numerous spilled food items, colorful beverages, white cake and matching frosting particles, broken dishes, and both wrapped and destroyed colorful birthday presents.

From the trailer residential home located on the city street address of 701 Walker Court, the set of loose pictures formed a long rectangular-shape.

The first picture, on the bottom row, on the end, was taken from the open archway on the single entrance door and displayed a long ratty brown tinted sofa which was covered in red tinted blood that had soaked into the dull brown fabric and then turned into rich black hue.

Also, on top of the blood-soaked sofa, a severed human collar bone with an attached naked arm and a set of exposed white tinted bones on half of the human rib cage rested in the puddles of dripping wet blood, glowing in blue tint skin tissue and white bones.

The rest of the tiny body on the one-year-old toddler rested down in a thick pond of blood, on top of the vinyl brown-tinted floor facing the same sofa. Blue tint covered the naked skin. The head skull possessed a head of black colored hair.

The second picture. on the top row, at the end, was taken from the open archway coming from the same single entrance door and displayed the side wall and the forward wall in dull tan hue that was almost covered in numerous red tinted blood zigzag lines. A glass window was open and exhibited more red tinted blood wiggling lines coming from the numerous victims.

Within the wall corner, a white tinted high chair held the headless body of a seven-month-old baby in blue tinted skin, wearing a set of blue colored baby clothes that was completely drenched in red blood also. The baby's head skull rested on top of the vinyl brown tinted floor beside the white high chair and as the pair of brown tinted eyeballs continuously stared up into the ceiling, maybe looking into the heavens. The severed baby head skull was covered in fuzzy black tinted hair strands.

The third picture, on top of row, displayed the rest of the forward wall in dull tan hue, which extended into a tiny kitchen of pale blue color, which had been painted with additional red tinted blood streaks. In front of the pale blue metal tinted stove oven, the lower body on a short adult female worn a pair of tan colored walking shorts and stood like magic, without her upper body part, in a pair of blue tinted naked feet. The upper body rested over the stove top, wearing a sleeveless white blouse, a pair of blue tinted arms, a head of long black tinted hair, and a pair of brown tinted eyeballs that stared at the side wall, where the baby's high chair stood alone and quiet.

The fourth picture, on the bottom row, exhibited the entrance wall, where an extremely long and wide gigantic plasma television stood against the dull tan colored wall. In front of the television screen, a partial body part had been draped over the black tinted colored active television screen. The television plasma had continued to operate during the murder showing a colorful cartoon of blue tinted squirrels when the photographer had captured the disturbing picture. The screen with the six cartoons of blue colored squirrels posed with a tiny human broken collar bone, an attached blue tinted naked arm and five fingers, and half of the exposed rib cage of white bones against the soft plasma material.

The rest of the short body on a ten-year-old elementary male child rested at the foot of the television cabinet, wearing a green and brown short-sleeved shirt and a pair of tan colored walking shorts, exposing a pair of naked legs, exhibiting blue tinted skin tissue and smeared in red blood proteins. The head skull on the body displayed a head of black tinted hair and a pair of brown tinted eyeballs that stared at the black tinted wooden television cabinet.

The floor was covered in thick ponds of red blood and an assortment of baby toys, school gear, and human shoes.

The fifth picture, on the top row, on the opposite end, displayed the rest of the dull tan colored forward wall that held more of the living room furniture pieces, including a ratty gray-colored sitting chair and a square-shaped archway leading into three different white tinted bedrooms.

The sixth digital picture, on the bottom row, on the opposite end, showed the remaining entrance wall in dull tan color, which held more of the living room furniture pieces, including a ratty, light tan colored lounge chair, that was covered in red blood also.

Inside the lounge chair, with the foot stool up and extended into the air, a short adult male body comfortably rested and outstretched over the soft fabric, featuring a torn hole in his brown and white alternative stripped short-sleeved knit shirt, where his heart usually had pumped. The naked skin was colored in blue tint. His head skull exhibited a head of black tinted cropped hair and a ripped off face, missing his two eyebrows, his pair of eyeballs, his two nose holes, his pair of lips, and his mouth, exposing only the white tinted skeleton bones in-between streaks of dripping red tinted blood proteins. His lower body displayed a pair of blue jeans that were covered in red blood and a pair of brown tinted cowboy boot with red blood, but intact and not destroyed.

Pearlet finished taping up each police photograph then back stepped from the white board, stopping a few feet from the wall, exhaling with tension, after reviewing every picture with one murdered body. She had hundreds of questions but couldn't construct which ones to ask first. Her mind was jumbled with too much information and as her heart felt too many emotions.

She continued to scan each colorful murder picture, but her mind didn't find a new connection that could reveal the mysterious serial killer that was haunting the natives in Felton and Gardenville.

At 09:16 am, inside the office setting of Police Chief Jacquerie Melum, she continued to sit and frowned at her employee. "Zimb, I would like for you to go back to the Wollen house on 3001 Heaton Court. I want you to perform a first crime scene walk-through and take your own crime scene notes."

He gasped with alarm. "What happens if I receive a new CSI assignment, while I'm out there at the Wollen house?"

She smiled. "I believe that I can call on one of the expensive Birmingham CSI team units to come out here another time."

He nodded with a stern face. "Yes ma'am."

She exhaled. "Zimb, I am sending you out there to the Wollen house to see if your guts can handle the difficult CSI work. I choose to become a police officer, not a CSI responder for a reason. I can take blood and guts. But I can't work in blood and guts. There is a big difference here."

He nodded. "Yes ma'am."

She nodded. "You are an excellent police detective. I hired you and I am proud of your swift progress here on the Felton police force. I recommended you for the CSI responder post, because I believed in you. And I still believe in your police career here on the Felton squad. But this is your police career. I am not your mother here. But I am your supervisor here. Now, you go out there and see what you can stand or not. This is all your personal decision. I am only here to guide you in the correct police career pathway. You take as much time as you wish for exploring the Wollen house. I saw the mess there only in picture format which turned my stomach muscles upside down. So, you take the next few days and nights and figure out what your next police career step will be. I have faith that you will make the right choice, Zimb," she stood upright from her chair and extended her hand, nodding with a smile. "Good luck, Zimb!"

Zimb swiftly stood upright from the chair and shook, releasing her hand, dropping his hand back down to his leg, saying with a nod and a smile. "Thanks for both the advice and the guidance, Chief Melum! I'll go back to the Wollen house and figure out what I wanna for the rest of my life. Thanks!" He scooted sideways then spun around, leaving her office. The metal door slowly closed shut.

She continued to stand and shook her curls, looking down at the electronic map. "I am not worried about Zimb. He will pick the right career path. I am worried about a mysterious serial killer that has invaded my territory. I like that new police detective Pearlet Beauton. I wonder if I can steal her from the Gardenville police force, while I tease him with my wicked humor." She sat down with a laugh and reached over towards the flat control panel of colorful buttons, slapping the red button for the hidden telephone speaker. The telephone ring sounded with a loud tone.

At 09:18 am, back inside the conference room setting, Tarsal continued to sit in the stiff metal-coated conference chair and typed on his personal mobile telephone without interest in the collection of taped pictures. His mind contained too much information that had become jumbled with both logically and illogically emotions also. He needed to revisit the Wollen house and replay the police action and the arrest there, clearing his mental thoughts.

She continued to stand and stared at the geometric formation of each murder house of colorful pictures on the white board. "Do you want to see and examine the rows of photographs from each crime scene? I am sorry. Police Chief Melum mentioned your name as Tarsal but she did not properly introduce your person to me," she looked up and smiled down at the blonde hair roots on Tarsal.

He looked up with a smile to see Pearlet. "I am Tarsal Tarragon. I graduated from Felton High School twelve years ago and Birmingham State University seven years ago with a criminal justice degree also. I have worked here for seven years, since graduating college and becoming a police rookie also. I sorta have followed your similar police career path, but I have been here longer."

She nodded with a smile, "Nice to meet and then work with you, Tarsal!"

He nodded, "Me, too! I'm not really interested in viewing the photographs."

She shook her shoulder length hair strands. "I don't really see a common factor that could connect and identify the mysterious serial killer here, only a massive amount of blood that has covered each body and the floor and the walls too."

"I saw that also."

She exhaled. "I didn't know a single human body could produce so much blood within a small square foot of space."

"Me, either!"

She nodded. "I would like to see each dead body and then I would like to revisit each murder house."

"Okay." Tarsal slid off the metal chair then stood upright on top of the wooden floor, staring at the nice work of geometric shapes with each single photograph, turning to face the closed door, moving ahead with a stern face. He opened the door for the lady as he had been taught as a young gentleman regardless of status as a police officer or a co-worker.

She exited the room with a nod then slid against the side wall while waiting on Tarsal. She was not familiar with the new floor layout within the new Felton Police Station. But she had heard the hot juicy rumor of a modern-day sleek chrome and colored police station and the rumor was correct.

He exited the conference room and strolled ahead with a stern face without offering a tour of the new police station, heading towards the opposite side to a red metal door in silence.

She followed behind the back spine on Tarsal while turning to scan the open busy police work room and each Felton police officer.

Tarsal wasn't trying to be rude to the young, smart Gardenville police detective from a professional point of view. He only was interested in connecting Wallis Wollen to the murder of his dead brother. Tarsal believed that Wallis Wollen committed the crime but needed to return to the crime scene, searching for the key evidence in person. However, he couldn't with an ugly tail from the young, smart Gardenville police detective Pearlet Beauton.

The police station building faced the roadway on Walker Chapel and sat on top of a slab of flat concrete.

Pearlet found the architectural design on the new police headquarters building in the city of Felton intriguing. She wanted to inquire with tons of curious questions about the new building but decided to focus on finding a serial killer that had crossed the county roads and the residential houses between the two cities of Felton and Gardenville.

The side wall contained a row of small individual business offices that did not have a viewing window but offered a set of glittering metal furniture pieces that was exhibited in one color theme.

Her eyeballs quickly saw a set of pink tinted metal furniture inside one of the smaller business offices on the side wall and as she softly giggled at the girly touch inside the police station.

The other colors featured varied color tones, such like, a cute mint green, a blinding yellow, a soft peach, a sissy lavender, and a loud neon orange color tone.

The side wall displayed the police chief's office on the end of the row with a closed silver tinted office door for the moment.

On the side wall, Tarsal stopped and stood in front of a red painted metal door, reaching out, grabbing a silver tinted door knob, twisting his wrist bone. He opened the door and stood beside the metal frame, pointing inside the next room in silence.

She slowly moved ahead and nodded in silence to Tarsal while trying to figure out the mellow, quiet adult male.

The next room displayed a lounge room with numerous geometric shaped metal tables in the middle of the room. The entrance wall contained rows of food and beverage machines. Each side wall contained a row of duplicate kitchen appliances that started at each end then met in the middle wall, displaying the dry food pantry for storing all the dry goods. The kitchen appliance displayed a top stove, a dishwasher, a microwave, a wash sink, and both sets of upper and lower cabinets between each dull looking appliance, in order, to prepare, cook, and eat a plate of food.

The lounge room did not contain a viewing window either, in case of severe weather. A thunder storm or a tornado winds or a cold snow storm could bust the window and cause both damage to the land property and harm to the people.

She knew that the new kitchen design had been created to accommodate any type of man-made or natural emergency for both the police force and citizens here in Felton. That was a newest fad within a police community for protecting and housing their citizens during a crisis.

The rear wall exhibited a row of built-in glass covered refrigerator units that occupied the entire wall from ceiling down to the floor board.

The lounge floor was hard concrete in fun zigzag lines of faint colors for prettiness and functionality to entertain the young children in the event of a natural disaster.

Passing through the array of geometric shaped silver tinted metal eating tables with a set of six matching chairs, Tarsal didn't bother explaining the purpose of the lunch/lounge room setting and continued to move ahead towards the rear wall, stopping and stood in front of an individual built-in glass covered refrigerator unit with an array of cold food items.

She stopped a few feet from him and stared at the same individual built-in glass covered refrigerator unit with silent puzzlement.

He leaned over and grabbed the vertical door handle, pressing the secret button on top. The door opened and revealed a new room. The air currents, coming out from the new room felt like a series of man-made ice-cold temperatures. The upper ceiling rows of artificial lights were dull in darkness.

She narrowed her two eyelashes and stared into the room, feeling worry and caution. "What? My word! What is this? What is that in there? That's only a refrigerator unit that holds numerous cold food items."

"It is more." He continued to stand beside her and held the open door. "Please enter, Pearlet! I will explain in greater detail."

At 09:21 am, Pearlet moved ahead with a stern face and wrapped both of her arms around her shivering body, slowly strolling inside the new room, stopping a few feet from the open archway, dropping open her mouth.

He entered into the room with a smile and spun around, gently closing shut the refrigerated door without rattling the cold food items on top of the shelf. He continued to stand in front of a gray tinted steel wall with a smile and leaned over, flipping a hand level that illuminated more light into the new room. The room was square-shaped in solid walls of gray tinted steel metal, without a viewing window. The ceiling was made of the same gray tinted steel metal with an assortment of dangling individual pieces in metal colored equipment. The floor was composed of steel metal with a large drainage hole with a grid plate, in the middle of the room. Tarsal smiled and stared at her back spine while observing her personal and professional reactions. "This is the morgue storage room. Yes, an autopsy is performed in here also."

Inside the morgue storage room, in the middle of the room, the room temperature was icy cold and displayed three rows of individual tables. Each table stood vertically in length and contained a naked dead body in blue tinted skin tissue.

Pearlet moved ahead and continued to warm her cold body, like each dead person, wearing a stern face, then stopped at the first rows of metal tables. "What is this?" Underneath an individual spotlight of soft tinted white, the first row displayed five tables in a vertical formation that held an individual naked body on top of the steel hard surface.

He moved beside her and stared down at each dead person. "All of the dead, murdered bodies are located here inside the morgue storage room."

She continued to scan the room then each dead body with a stern face. "I know the meaning of a morgue room. I mean. There are three individual rows of individual tables, with an individual dead body, in here. The dead are all displayed together like a wake or a show or exhibition. I don't understand this design. Why is the set up looking like this?"

He pointed around the room and then down to each dead body. "It is the latest police fad to house all the dead bodies together, inside a refrigerated arena or room or compartment, without using an individual ice box of cold air. This steel encased square-shaped room stays a little bit above freezing and keeps each body blue tinted and cold, until the police detective figures out, who gets the body for a proper funeral."

"I like the dead concept, but I hate being here inside a morgue storage room."

He spun around then moved ahead, stopping at the last row of tables, standing in front of a dead murdered baby. "Well, if you're going to succeed as a police detective, you gotten get used to the morgue storage room concept and property."

The first table held a seven-month-old baby that was still covered in dried blood proteins and possessed numerous cuts and bruises over his blue tinted arms and legs skin tissue. The head skull possessed a head of black tinted hair and a tone of blue skin which was not attached to the rest of the body but resting on top of a flat stand near the sliced neck bone, appearing like the body was intact.

She gasped in shock and pointed at the decapitated skull head on the baby. "I...I have seen a dead body before inside a morgue room, after a cold blood murder. But this dead baby body is still covered in his own blood over his blue skin plus the set of cuts and bruises all over the tiny body. I mean, each dead body is still ugly in their own red blood, instead of clean and dull looking. Why didn't the medical examiner clean off the dried blood from the baby's body for our visual review? I don't understand."

He stated. "You didn't know this new information. The first CSI laboratory report coming from the Birmingham CSI team on each one of the Wollen five family members, that I saw yesterday, contains multiple types of blood proteins all over the blue tinted skin tissue, coming from everyone, but the family dog," he laughed. "So, the CSI team leader had requested that each body not be cleaned or washed, until right before the release for the funeral, which might take days or weeks from now. Yeah, this is highly unusual. But we have a mysterious serial killer which is also highly unusual here in small town of Felton. The CSI team will come back here and peel off more blood samples and skin samples from each dead body for some additional laboratory tests while looking for the unknown and mysterious murderer. That's why each body looks really pretty in red, white, and blue colors," he chuckled again.

She sneered and pointed at the second row of naked tables. "Wait! How come you have my death family here inside your morgue storage unit in Felton? The death family lived in Gardenville, not here Felton."

He said with a smile. "Well, that's an easy answer. The official landscape split between the two cities of Gardenville and Felton is still unofficially and is permanently locked in a court battle, where Old Highway 31 forms that great big gap dropout within the land, which is the location of Black Creek Park. Do you know that famous landmark that had been formed during the dinosaur era or something like that? So, after you found this murdered family and filed your police report, the Gardenville CSI unit performed the crime scene work and then delivered all five blue tinted bodies here inside our morgue storage room. While you were decorating the white boards, I was reading all the official police reports from yesterday. I'm just as surprised with you. But you were very convening with your mysterious serial killer theme. So, your police chief approved the new storage site. I mean. Isn't that what you wanted?"

She said with a stern face. "Yes. Yes. I'm both shocked and surprised. That's all. This is my death family unit, the Juarez clan, who lived at 701 Walker Court. The family members look different, up close and creepy, rather than posed inside the crime scene. The family unit had been murdered around four o'clock in the afternoon, based on the CSI laboratory report. I arrived there at four-thirty yesterday afternoon and actually arrested a smart mouth teenage boy, who had run over a roaming stray dog with his rusty and ancient muscle car. He pulled out an illegal hand gun and then killed the poor suffering and injured dog right there on the access roadway that led into the trailer park, which immediately prompted the police call by the worried neighbors. At first, I thought that mean and troublesome teenager had committed the vile murder act to the Juarez family like he did the poor stray dog. But once I viewed the crime scene, it was obvious to me that it was a mature murderer that killed each family member for some strange and unexplained reason. It looks like the head skull had been seriously severed from the seven-month-old baby body. The baby is named Juan. Who would do such a mean and nasty thing to an innocent baby? What type of vile instrument could do this to a human body? This is not a gunshot wound. That would be an easier murder case. This is a blunt force instrument tool that the serial killer is using."

He stated. "Each body is broken up like someone used the human as a sawhorse. I don't know what else to say or describe about the poor dead and abused human body."

She scooted sideways and pointed down at the second table. "This two-year-old dead little boy is named Jose." The second table displayed a two-year-old male toddler, where one side had been ripped apart starting at his collar bone near his open neck splitting down through his rib cage. That body part rested beside the rest of the blue tinted body, where numerous cuts and bruises shone through the skin. The head skull possessed a head of black tinted hair and a tone of blue skin which was attached to the body but exhibited numerous cuts and bruises also.

He moved beside her and exhaled with sadness. "Well, that's not our police job. The medical examiner describes the medical condition on the dead human in here and the status of each organ. During an autopsy, the organs are removed and then examined and then placed back inside the body. sometimes, the organs are removed and then stored inside a compartment on one of the walls. You can't see the side wall in greater detail due to the low light beams. But there are hundreds of small, medium, and large hidden cabinets with a steel-face that can store anything. Actually, there's a set of weapons located here inside the morgue room also, in case, something happens inside the police lobby or work area. If someone makes it in here alive or wounded, then that surviving police person can grab the weapons and kill the bad guy and save the day. Yay!"

She continued down the row of naked tables and pointed at the third dead body. "The dead little boy is named Javier. Will we see the medical examiner also today?" The third table on the same row displayed a ten-year-old male elementary child, where one side of his tiny body had been ripped apart starting at his collar bone near his open neck splitting down through his rib cage. That body part rested beside his blue tinted body, where numerous cuts and bruises shone through the dead skin tone.

He moved sideways with her and studied the body. "Probably not! Geannette completed her medical examination and then provided us with all of her medical notes for each dead body."

She continued down to the fourth table and pointed at the female. "The dead mother is named Juana." The fourth table exhibited a short adult female in blue tint, where her body was split in half at her waistline, exhibiting numerous cuts and bruises from the death weapon.

He moved with her and studied the dead female. "I am not trying to be rude here, but I don't buy the mysterious serial killer theme here. I don't see or understand how a family of Mexicans was targeted by a local serial killer. A serial killer is only interested in..."

"...attention. The dead father is named Jorge. This is a way to gain instant fame and attention. This is a working family man with his wife and children. The media will have a field day with this information." She moved down with a sour frown and stopped at the last table on the same row. The fifth table presented a short adult male, where his body was colored in blue tint with numerous cuts and bruises and displayed a hole in the naked chest that was missing the heart organ. His face had been eaten away leaving only the exposed skeleton bones.

He moved ahead with her and nodded with a stern face. "Yeah, well, I can see that happening here also."

She moved ahead towards the last row of five naked tables, stopping at the last table, gasping at the object. The row of five tables contained an individual naked steel-plated table with a single object, a pile of gray ashes inside a white tinted paper cup. She pointed at the object, "What's this?"

He moved ahead, stopped, and stood beside Pearlet pointing with a stern face down at the single white-tinted tiny paper cup. "This row of individual short tables belongs to the Gubnat family, that used to live at 2404 Stouts Court within the Felton city limits. The first table is the remains of the father, who is named Grady. The entire house almost burned down to the ground."

She nodded with a stern face at the tiny paper cup. "I saw the pictures, when I taped them onto the white board."

He frowned. "However, Chief Melum believes your mysterious serial killer theme."

She turned and frowned at his nose profile. "And you do not, why not?"

He continued to stare at each table. "I mentioned before I don't believe the serial killer theme. However, my police chief does. So, we go on the police assumption that the Gubnat family had been brutally murdered, before their house burned down. The Felton fire chief is filing an official fire report today that the house burned down from a careless stove grease fire, not by an arson. But that report will be heavily questioned. Thus, there are barely any human remains for a single burial, much less for a criminal investigation and then an arrest of a murderer."

She returned and nodded to the single cup of gray ashes again. "I can understand that problem also. But we can work together and find the truth here."

He moved down to the second table. The table held a single white tinted paper cup with a set of gray ashes. "This is a paper cup of the mother's gray ashes, which is named Gale. She was found in front of the gas stove, where the fire initially started. The short working death theory is that both of the parents were intoxicated with alcohol drinks, inside their residential house. It was the boy's birthday party celebration per the surviving group of blood relatives."

She nodded. "The family name is Gubnat, which is also an Irish surname. The Irish people enjoy drinking alcoholic beverages. That lethal combination could ignite a fire both literally and figuratively."

He moved down to the third table. The table contained a strange object. The set of broken bone fragments, on a tiny human skeleton, were spread out and quietly rested on top of the steel metal that was draped in piece of shredded blue tinted skin tissue. The head skull on the nine-year-old boy was flattened into an array of scattered dull beige colored bones, without the eyeballs, the lips, the nose bridge, the eyebrows, the hair strands, and the earlobes. "This is the only semi-intact body from a nine-year-old boy, who was named Garvey, who had been found inside the burnt house. The body was found underneath a table, which had been flattened, broken, then scattered all the human bones that somehow were not burned into a pile of gray ashes."

She exhaled with sadness. "I didn't know that human body of liquid and bones could be flattened like a breakfast pancake, that my mother makes. The little boy is only nothing but a batch of broken beige tinted bones and pieces of fragments that form into a tiny human skeleton. Who actually lays out each one of the broken bone fragments on top of the table like a dinosaur exhibition? This work would have taken hours and hours and hours."

He moved ahead then stopped in front of the fourth table. The table contained a single white tinted paper cup with a pile of gray ashes. "Yes, for the poor dead child, the bone fragment procedure took hours and hours and hours. However, the medical examiner is tasked with this set up as she slowly evaluates the condition of the recently deceased. But she has a crew of good medical people, who are knowledgeable in biology and human anatomy. This is his four-year-old sister, who is named Glidea, and presents as a cup of gray ashes. The two young girls were inside a shared bedroom. The theory goes, they were asleep and died of smoke inhalation. Or they were killed in their beds and laid there as the house burned. Either way, it is a terrible tragedy."

She moved with him and stared down at the cup of gray ashes. "The poor boy had been discovered underneath the wooden table. My death theory, he decided to hide underneath the long wooden table, after smelling the stinky smoke coming out from the kitchen. I wonder why he didn't run out the front door. His dead body in the CSI snapped picture was located inside the living room near the front door."

He moved ahead and stopped at the last table in the row. The last steel table contained a white paper cup with a pile of gray ashes. He frowned. "Well, his parents were inside the kitchen. Every kid trusts their parents. Maybe, his mother can't cook on top of a gas grill stove. My mother sometimes burns a food item inside the frying pan and creates a plume of black smoke. My father reacted very quickly to put out the fire. If his mother was a bad cook, it was a common occurrence. Then the poor boy didn't know better. This is the last table and the last member of the Gubnat family clan. She is named Gana and is two-month-old baby and is shown inside a cup of gray ashes also like her older dead sister."

She moved with him and stopped at the last table, nodding with a stern face. "Yeah, that's a good death theory. Then the boy grabbed and held onto one of the wooden thick table legs, but the unstable wooden table came crashing down on top of his human head skull. He must've tried to escape, but it came down and collapsed on top of his tiny body."

Tarsal spun around from the last row of tables with a stern face then slowly moved ahead towards the opposite wall, stopping in front of a first row of individual tables. Pearlet followed then stopped beside him. He exhaled with sadness and stared down at the naked body on the first table. The tall adult male displayed a hole in the chest with a missing heart organ and his face had been eaten away, leaving only the exposed skeleton bones. Tarsal pointed down at the male body. "Yes, I agree with that death theory. Actually, I do not see a murder here with the skeleton remains of that dead boy, only a terrible family tragedy. This is the Wollen family clan of five people. I am not going into detail. Each body was pretty much ripped apart and is covered in everyone's blood on their blue tinted skin tissue based on the CSI team unit's report. This is the father, who is named Wrest Wollen. Their deaths had been timed around four o'clock in the afternoon." She continued to stand beside him and studied the body in silence. He moved down to the next table, a tall and slender female in blue tint, where her body was split in half at the waistline, exhibiting cuts and bruises from the death weapon. "This is Wobbie Wollen. The couple had been married for ten years and lived at 3001 Heaton Court here in Felton." They moved down to the third table.

He pointed at the dead body. "This is Willet Wollen, eight years old." The third table showed an eight-year-old male elementary female child, where one side of her body was ripped apart, starting at her collar bone near her neck splitting down through her rib cage. That missing body part rested beside the rest of her blue tinted body, where numerous cuts and bruises shone through the skin. The head skull was covered in blood and displayed blonde hair strands, a pair of blue eyes, and a tone of golden skin. They moved down to the fourth table.

He pointed down at the dead body. "This is Wittoe Wollen." The fourth table displayed a three-year-old male toddler, where one side body was ripped apart starting at his collar bone near his neck splitting down through his rib cage. That missing body part rested beside the rest of the blue tinted body, where numerous cuts and bruises shone through the skin. The head skull possessed a head of blonde tinted hair, a pair of blue eyes, and a tone of golden colored skin, which was attached to the body but exhibited numerous cuts and bruises also. They moved down to the last table.

He pointed down at the last dead body. "This is Woad Wollen, ten-months-old." The last table held a ten-month-old baby that was still covered in dried blood proteins and possessed numerous cuts and bruises over the blue tinted arms and legs skin tissue. The head skull possessed a head of blonde tinted fuzz and a tone of blue skin, which was not attached to the rest of the body but resting on top of a flat stand near the sliced neck bone, appearing like the body was intact. He exhaled. "That's the visual tour of each dead body. Do you want to go and see each murder house now?"

She stared down at the last body. "Five is a common number among the dead bodies. The serial killer selected a family with a pair of parents and three young elementary or younger in age children. Why would he do that?"

He continued to study the row of bodies. "I don't know. He's a madman and needs to be found and locked up, tossing away the jail cell key."

She nodded. "I thought you would have approved of the death penalty."

He turned then smiled at her nose profile. "You're new to my police circle. Yes, I do approve of the death penalty for a murderer of innocent people like the Holy Bible states."

She back stepped from the last table with the dead baby and scooted around him, sliding sideways then stopped, standing in front of the first table with Wrest. She pointed down at the male body. "I am seeing a pattern here. The body of each dead person has been ripped apart in halves or in large pieces. Look at this! Each father, within the family clan, has a hole in the chest and is missing the heart organ. Was the heart organ removed on purpose?"

He continued to stand and turned to see the first table with Wrest. "No. The heart organ had been filmed and documented as missing. No one can explain it either."

"There is a common killing pattern here. Look at each adult male, the father. There is a hole in the chest and a missing heart organ. And his face has been removed violently and brutally like the serial killer hated the father figure of the family. I mean. The other face on each dead person is intact with minor scratches and cuts but not savagely torn out like each father figure. Do you see that?"

He continued to stand in place and watched her move around the morgue room. "Yes."

She moved back and forth to each dead body. "And the second pattern here, each mother within the family clan is cut in half at her waistline. In each CSI photograph, the lower body of the mother is standing in a pond of blood upright, which is really creepy. What will the serial killer do that?"

"Don't know."

She pointed at each mother with a nod. "I believe that he is whacking off the female part of the mother and separating her womb from her babies. This vile act means he hates his biological mother and regrets being born here on the planet. I wished that he was not born either."

"Maybe."

She continued to move around the room and pointed to each dead body. "And the third pattern, the little baby, within each family clan, has a severed baby head skull. What would the serial killer do that? I believe the baby of the family is the most innocent. So, the killer must be the baby also within his own biological family unit to brutally remove the baby head skull like this."

"I guess."

"And the fourth pattern, the eldest child is in elementary school, each one of the tiny bodies has been split apart in a really weird way. The neck was separated from the collar bone, where the arm remained attached. However, when the serial killer split the collar bone and pulled backwards from the human child body, the rib cage automatically ripped apart. Then the separated body part contained the collar bone, the attached arm, and half of the rib cage. That is so strange. Why would the serial killer do that? That is a terrible way to attack a child and then kill a child at the same time. He hated his siblings, who bested him in sports or academics also. And this male is really sick and demented."

"Yeah."

"And finally, the middle child had been killed the same way, which is really confusing. The serial killer used a certain death method on each family member but duplicated the same method with the oldest child and the middle child. So, that tells me that the serial killer had a middle sibling and he didn't like that child," she stopped in front of the middle child, within the Gubnat family, then spun around with a smile to see Tarsal. "There! I have explained a trending pattern that the serial killer likes to use, but it does not pinpoint, who the serial killer could be. There are so many more police questions. What is the serial killer's motive? What is the serial killer's intent? What is the serial killer's weapon? A regular human could not rip apart another human body with their bare hands. Maybe, the serial killer possesses extra human strength. But that is very rare here during modern times which are easily explained with drugs and alcohol consumption or a mental disease. And some person would have reported that to their family member or neighbor. You know how people like to gossip!"

"Yeah!"

She continued to stand in place and nodded to Tarsal. "So, the serial killer used a very long and very sharp instrument. Did the CSI laboratory report determine the murder weapon?"

He shook his curls. "No, the crime team has not identified the murder weapon yet."

"What kind of instrument could do that to a human body? Do you know?"

He nodded with a smile, "Yes, I do know."

She gasped in alarm. "Then why are you not telling your police chief, the CSI team, and everyone else?"

He looked down with a stern face and kicked the floor. "A crowbar tool could do that type of damage on a human body."

She frowned at his blonde hair roots. "A crowbar tool, what is the prime purpose of a crowbar tool?"

He looked up with a smile to see Pearlet. "It is also called a wrecking bar or a pry bar tool or a jimmy tool in the foreign country of Great Britain. The main purpose is to pry away something from the object. The most common usage, opening a sealed crate box, after something has been shipped around the world from another place, such like, a piece of art work."

She nodded. "Yes, I do know what a crowbar looks like. Is a crowbar a common tool?"

He spun around with a smile, moved ahead, then stopped, standing in front of the side steel-plated wall that displayed numerous hidden compartments. He opened the unlocked compartment and reached inside, pulling out an object, spinning around and held the item near his smirk. "Yes, a crowbar is a very common tool. I pulled this out from the police department tool chest here at the station. I own one. My father owns one. I bet your father owns one too."

She nodded. "Yeah, my father has a collection of tools and I have seen that one. I can see the long steel-made tool damaging the delicate human body."

He moved ahead, stopped, then stood in front of the adult male, lowering the claw hook on the crowbar near the face on the dead body, without damaging the dead person. "The top on the tool is hook-like, almost like a claw, which can rip off the face on a man," he swiftly lifted the claw hook upright with a grunt slowly imitated ripping the face off the dead father, then scooted sideways and stood in front of the female mother, slicing the tool in the air, without damaging the mother's body but explained. "The bottom portion on the tool is sleek, like a curved knife, which is used to cut and slice through the delicate human skin," he lowered the end point on the crowbar and swung the blade side to side, like he was cutting into the mother's dead body.

Tarsal lifted up the tool then swiftly scooted sideways down towards the dead baby body and stopped, lowering the end point on the crowbar down near the sliced cut throat on the dead body, swinging the tool side to side through the air waves with a soft grunt. He described the process. "A man would rear back and slice the end point sideways, cutting into the human throat, then he would use the claw hook jerking upwards them connect, ripping off the jaw line on the baby's skull head," he lifted up the crowbar, then tossed it through the air, catching the item with the other hand, spinning around and nodded in silence to Pearlet.

She gasped in alarm and nodded back to him. "Yes, I can see that you have pondered the murder weapon in great depth. That's very, very good. And you have vividly described a very good death procedure for each dead body, which is easily used by a regular male. Now, who is the male that owns the crowbar and how do we find that particular murder weapon with the victim's blood?"

He spun around with a stern face and replaced the crowbar back into the secret compartment, swinging back around to see Pearlet. "I know 'the how' and 'the who' and 'the weapon.'"

She gasped in alarm and waved both of her arms in the air, saying in fury. "Who? How? What? Why? What are you hiding here, Tarsal?"

He exhaled. "I'm not hiding nothing here. I was dethroned and overruled and vetoed with my new information about the murderer."

"There is a serial killer, who has murdered three families out there, and you were vetoed for your knowledge. Who is the serial killer?"

He exhaled. "I am not going to tattle, to you, the murderer."

"What? Why not? What are you hiding? Are you connected to the serial killer? Is it your mother or someone close?"

He smiled. "No, it is not my mother. I know, who the murderer is. And you don't."

She lifted both of her palms near a sour frown. "Look! I don't want the collar here."

He exhaled. "We are not a pair of street cops. We are a pair of police detectives. We don't collect collars or credit or cash here. I want the murderer also. However, I don't have any excellent physical proof or poof or poop. And the pond of thick red tinted blood covered everything and has ruined getting a clean finger print out from the kitchen setting, inside the Wollen house on 3001 Heaton Court. The fire conveniently ruined the DNA evidence at 2404 Stouts Court. And the pond of blood had ruined more DNA evidence at 701 Walker Court. So, we have to prove my known murderer another way."

She shook her curls with a frown. "How do we do that?"

"Well, I don't know yet. But you are fresh on the murderer trail with tons of new ideas. Think of another method of catching our known murderer!"

She looked down with a stern face at the steel floor. "All right. All right. Let me think! We have examined each body and have not found any physical evidence, like a hair strand or a fingernail or a toe nail or a piece of mouth spit coming from the murderer, which could identify the person through DNA analysis and testing, since the pond of blood puddles have ruined that police angle. So, we use a new police officer detective angle," she looked up with a smile to see Tarsal. "We need to find a common factor among the three families, which will support my working theory of a serial killer. Yes, I need to go and ask around about their social circles, their employment offices, their fun and naughty habits, their family members, their other hobbies."

He smiled with a nod. "Awe! That's an excellent idea, Pearlet. I can help you and me with that."

She frowned. "No, you cannot. How can you help me there? I mean. Yes, you can. But we need to leave the police station and start our door-to-door interviews with each relative and friend for each dead person. Geez! This is going to take hours and days and weeks to visit all the different physical locations and ask tons of nosy questions."

He moved away from the side wall of steel, which contained numerous hidden compartments, wearing a smile and shook his curls. "This is a morgue storage room is not cold but clever. Come with me! We are climbing to the top of the world," he passed her and the hidden entrance door, where the naked eyeball could not see within the dull lighted morgue room, unless you knew the exact location. He moved ahead a few more feet then stopped, pointing at the entrance wall with a chuckle. "Come over here, Pearlet! I wanna show you something really spectacular in here."

She moved ahead with puzzlement in silence then stopped, standing beside him, gasping at the new sight. "Is that a staircase of sharp stairs in steel?" She looked up to the ceiling but didn't see a platform.

He scooted sideways then leaned into the steel wall, slowly climbing a narrow set of matching steps that easily blended into the side steel-coated wall material, only if you knew the exact location.

She scooted in front of the matching staircase, followed behind his back spine and reached out, touching the steel wall, feeling the cool temperature. "The wall is very, very cold. O! I remember. This wall is the entrance wall that is behind the row of refrigerated glass units that contain cold food items. O! So, the rear wall of numerous built-in refrigerated glass units is really faked and phony and false. It looks very good."

Tarsal slowly climbed each step with care. He had only visited the upper chamber inside the morgue storage room a couple of times with a set of other police employees and reached out, touching the wall for guidance, feeling the cold temperature on his naked hand. He landed on top of a flat floor surface of matching steel then slowly moved ahead, explaining the new feature inside the morgue room. "No. Inside the lounge and eating room, any police employee can lunch there, sometimes Police Chief Melum eats with her crew also. The room and the kitchen appliances and the food items are real and really good. The Felton city taxes plus some Alabama state funding pays for everything inside the police station, including all of free food meals. This is the upper floor level inside the morgue storage room. The wall is cold as it contains the wiring and cables for a hidden computer mainframe."

She gasped. "What! What hidden computer mainframe?"

He continued to move ahead with a smile. "Reach out and touch the side wall with your hand. It is made of solid steel like the rest of the room. It is cold in here, because of the stored computer wires and cables which has to stay cold temperature with all the hated electricity running through the walls to the mainframe computer. Now, reach out and touch the opposite side wall," he reached out and touched the wall, feeling a smoother surface with a smile.

She scooted sideways and reached out, touching the cold wall. "This is a glass panel."

He smiled. "It is a glass window that disguises and encloses the upper floor level from eyeball view. Lean into the glass as we walk ahead."

She stopped then turned, leaning down into the glass, gasping in shock. "I can see the pit of steel below with each table and each dead body."

He stopped then turned, leaning into the glass window, smiling down at the pit floor. "Yes. The glass panel completely hides us up here, in case, we want to observe the autopsy performance with the medical examiner. Usually, she does not like to be perturbed, during her wet work. So, the glass window is a sound-proof object and does not bother her set of sensitive ears and her pair of busy hands. However, there is another purpose of the glass panel. Keep following me!" He turned with a smile then slowly moved ahead.

She turned with a smile and followed behind his back spine, scooting side to side, touching the solid steel wall and then the glass wall, sounding with giddy excitement from the new technological inside the new Felton police station.

He continued to move ahead with a smile. "Now, we entered through the secret hidden side wall coming from the lounge room. The police station building faces north. The conference room with the murder pictures stands on the eastern side of the police station. We walked away from the row of conference rooms and moved ahead towards the western side in the police lobby and work area. We entered through the western doorway and continued to move in a westerly direction. We entered the rear door in the lounge room and continued to move in a westerly direction into the morgue storage room. Do you agree?"

"Yes, we walked in a western direction."

He nodded. "Good! The morgue storage room is purposefully built as a perfect square shape. Now, we are located on the upper floor level and walking due south. Do you agree?"

"Yes, I am walking due south and following behind you."

He turned the sharp wall corner that continued the same solid steel wall and gray tinted glass panel, moving down a new avenue. "Now, I have turned the sharp wall corner and I am walking in a westerly direction."

She turned the same wall corner and nodded with a smile, still reaching out, touching each steel wall then the gray tinted glass. She was looking down at the floor pit from a different angle. "Yes, I am walking behind you in a westerly direction."

He stopped then turned, standing in front of a steel-made console that kissed the glass window. On top of the console, a tilted metal surface revealed three flat computer monitors and two built-in keyboards, with numerous colored buttons, switches, and levers. "Now, I am facing north, which is parallel with the entrance doors, on the new police station, that we can't see but know."

She stopped then turned with a gasp, standing beside Tarsal, staring down at the console of monitor, keyboards, and manual hand gears. "This is a console control panel. What does it control? Yes, I am facing the north side of the police building now with you." She didn't touch any of the colorful buttons or switches or levers with respect of her job.

He continued to stare down into the floor pit, inside the morgue room, seeing the three rows of individual tables. "Now, were you curious about the placement of each row of five individual tables on top of the pit floor?"

She looked down into the floor pit and studied the three rows of tables, which appeared in an odd arrangement. "Well, when I was down on the pit floor, I didn't really notice the placement of the three rows of tables as I was concentrating on each dead body. However, I am up here on the top level and I can see that each row with the associated five individual steel tables is placed really odd. I am facing the north inside the morgue storage room. I came through the rear wall from the lounge room moving in a westerly direction. So, the entrance door is really located on the eastern side of the morgue storage room. I am moving in a westerly direction. Then you turned and ahead upward, moving in a northern direction, if I follow your geographical directions. Then we stopped and stood in front of the five tables with my death family unit, the Juarez clan, who lived at 701 Walker Court. The Wollen row of five tables is located below the Juarez clan. I grew up here too and know each hill and valley, as well. The Wollen house is located on 3001 Heaton Court, which is due south of Walker Court. The Gubnat row of tables is located on the extreme side wall, inside the morgue room, and stands further away from the other two rows of tables. The Gubnat house is located on 2404 Stouts Court, which is located in a southwestern direction from Walker Court. So, you have arranged each row of five tables based on the location of their individual residential house. That's very clever. I can see the creative row for each five-table-arrangement now. This upper level floor is very useful."

"It is more." He continued to stand in front of the console and next to Pearlet, reaching down then pressed a green colored shiny button on top of the complex console panel, saying with a smile. "Watch this!"

On top of the steel base, the pit floor illuminated in a bright white tinted background, displaying numerous colorful stationary wavy lines. Beside each row of five tables, a set of words appeared in dark red tint.

She gasped with a smile and stared down into the floor pit. "I see clearly now. The steel floor is also an electronic geographical world map, such like, each metal coated office desk and the metal coated conference room table. This is very clever."

He smiled. "Actually, the map is a hologram beam image that comes down from the top of the steel ceiling and then overlays only the air waves without touching the floor or each dead body or the steel table. The magical colorful hologram clearly displays each back tinted city street name, each wavy blue colored water stream, every pink tinted resident house, each orange tinted company business, and a green circle for each forest. It does not show an individual manicured lawn of green grass or a pod of colorful flower beds. That may come provided with the next computer upgrade from the group of smart billionaires," he laughed. "And I did not activate an individual pink box house or an individual orange box company store for simplicity. This new morgue room is a useful, purposeful, and ingenious tool for all police work. Each row of tables has been placed in a geographical spot for visual ease. The Juarez clan, on 701 Walker Court, is located on the northern side in the morgue room. The Wollen clan, on 3001 Heaton Court, is due south of Walker Court. And the Gubnat clan, on 2404 Stouts Court, is located southwesterly of Walker Court." He smiled down at the floor pit, "Yes, this is the latest, greatest fad within police analysis work. Now, watch this new feature," he reached down then pressed an orange button. The lights softly dimmed. On top of each body, a set of tiny letters in neon orange tint appeared.

She narrowed her two eyelashes at each coloring dead body, seeing a set of letters over each human rib cage. "What is that?"

"Each associated row, with a blood related dead body, shines in the same neon color, that hovers as a new hologram, within the air waves. Each dead body contains a set of orange-tinted tiny words." He pointed down onto the floor. "The steel table is a special blend of metal that is also a sensor plate that displays data in mostly a math and word format. I have activated the mainframe computer here inside this gray work station, that is behind my back spine. The console here has one computer keyboard and three individual computer monitors showing the same math and word format on each dead body. I am accessing every single piece of data from every single shared database throughout the world, on each dead body. The orange tinted words and letters are pieces of information that is transmitted from the computer down onto the hologram body."

She gasped. "How is this all possible?"

He reached down and patted the console. "This is all possible as a grand gift from Big Brother."

She frowned. "What? Who is your Big Brother? I don't have a Big Brother."

He laughed. "Big Brother is each personal, local, state, and federal computer chip that watches each person plus helps the police force too. Do you remember the swatch of tornados a few years back?"

"Yes, of course, that was a very scary night."

He nodded. "Well, the small town of Felton was hit really bad, especially at the old police and fire station. So, Big Brother or the US Federal Government wanted to help out the little guy or gal. A set of technological billionaires had perfected a mainframe system that can access every single piece of data, on every single person, here within the USA using all of the federal government and private outer space satellite signals. And this is the final product. You are seeing all the information coming from every known database, within the world, on top of the colorful hologram."

She stared down into the steel pit and studied each dead body. Covering each dead body, there was a ghostly outline of the length and wide of the dead human, including the tall adult male down to the tiny baby body. "Hmm! Why doesn't the Gardenville Police Department have this new person identification system?"

"This is actually still an alpha testing model. The US Federal Government and the secret gang of Techno billionaires are working together with each business and each foundation and each agency in the world to gather information, the legal way. We recently rebuild back the police station earlier this year. And the alpha testing site was limited to a town of less than 5,000 people, which is the small town of Felton. Gardenville is over 9,000 people and growing."

"I understand and I am jealous."

He patted the console with a smile. "However, this is the techno wave of the future right here and right now. Now, the computer defaults to the basic information for each dead body, which is displayed in the orange colored letters. This is a very quick way to view each body and then eliminate what you didn't need in a rush. You can see and read the information on each body along with me. Or you can see and read it on the computer monitor."

She smiled down at each hologram over each dead body. "This is incredible."

"This is the new techie way of police work. Instead of reading a delicate paper police officer report or an electronic police officer report on your tiny mobile telephone screen, you can see if larger than life. Excuse the bad pun!"

She laughed. "Bad pun! Bad police!"

"I have read through each paper police report and each electronic report anyways, because the foreign technology is really new. I am a novice with the control panel, on the console. This is really the first application use with the person identification system."

"Does the computer system have a nickname like usual?"

He laughed. "PISS for Person Identification System."

She gasped. "No way!"

He smiled. "Yes way!"

She frowned. "I am a southern lady and I am not using that silly nickname."

"That's why it is never mentioned coming from my lips." He stared down at the first row of five tables. "Let's start with the Wollen table of five dead people. For each dead body, this is a hologram of information that is kinda located on top of each rib cage, which states the first name, age, height, weight, hair color, eye color, relationship of each victim, and the occupation. As an experienced police detective, these data elements are important in identifying each victim. On top of the baby with the shorter body frame, the words are tiny but can be enlarged for human eyesight. Each adult is simply labeled as a student, a housewife, or a worker. Each child is labeled as a student for a school or a toddler for home care or day care environment. The data elements are more general here, but we can drill down into the additional data on each dead body, which saves time and my eyeballs. The computer database contains zillions of data elements for our visual preview. You can see the same data elements are present on the Juarez clan at 701 Walker Court and the Gubnat clan on 2404 Stouts Court." He exhaled with annoyance and turned to see her nose profile with a stern face. "Now, I want to personally comment here from a professional point of view. I do not believe in the mysterious serial killer theme. I do admire your theory, but I do not believe it. And my known murderer killed the Wollen clan, not the Juarez or Gubnat clans. So, my known murderer is not the serial killer here. Thus, I have a little trouble swallowing the mysterious serial killer theme. However, that is my personal comment coming from my human perspective. We are here to find the mysterious serial killer. And with the zillions of data elements here inside the new Person ID System, I do believe that we will either find more clues to the serial killer or we will eliminate that idea. Do you agree?"

She turned and nodded with a smile. "Yes, I agree with you. And thank you for believing in me and working with me, Tarsal. This is my first murder case with such severity and intensity. I am nervous and worried and excited and thrilled, which is all rolled into one big jumbled emotion," she returned back and stared down at the colorful hologram image on top on each dead body, inside the morgue pit floor.

"Me, too!" He returned back and stared down into the pit. "Now, we are looking for a common factor or a common connection between the three murdered family units. To me, the older children are in school, that is a common factor. Each adult male works. Each adult female is a housewife. Now, we are ready for the next electronic level that drills down to more data. The computer program, within this computer system, has created a fixed layer that drills down into more common elements." He pressed the blue button. Each colored hologram over every dead body swiftly changed and then showed a set of new words in blue tint. He stared down at each body. "I am only commenting here, because I like to talk. You can take over the narrative at any time, Pearlet. Like I mentioned before, this is all new to me also."

She smiled down at each dead body while reading each word. "You're doing a good job. You can continue to narrate. I'm busy reading all the tiny blue words."

He nodded. "All right! I will vocally highlight the major feature from each dead adult as an adult would be more likeable to know or meet the serial killer."

She studied and read each hologram over each dead body. "Well, the elementary school child could have met the serial killer on the school grounds or the playground or the school bus. Or the housewife could have met the serial killer at the grocery store or the playground or the school grounds or the shopping center parking lot. But I understand you wanna save your throat and mouth spit. I am carefully reading through all the electronic material also. You may continue."

He nodded. "I agree with your statements. The highlights that I see here. Each dead body shows the employer, the school, the college, the working shift, any registered fun hobbies, and any registered professional or personal associations. Father Wrest is a real estate agent. Father Grady is a power line worker. Father Juan is a laborer. The adult males have no common factor. Each work job is definitely unrelated to each other. Mother Wobbie is a housewife and participates in the local social and church organizations. Mother Juana is a housewife, who does not work and does not participate in any local social organization. Mother Gale is a piano teacher and a housewife. So, each adult female has no common factor either."

She stared down at each hologram exhibition of information. "Where does all this new data come from? How did the computer capture that the Mother Wobbie participates in church functions here in Felton?"

He turned and smiled at her nose profile, "Awe! Inside the police lobby, did you see the middle column of office desks?"

She continued to stare at each hologram over each dead body. "Not really! There was too much excitement."

"The Felton police department employs a team of young high schoolers and college students that excel in computer data mining through the internet, like a paid set of hackers. Yesterday, the computer team of geeks spent all day and night inputting every single data element about the dead person, including any hobby or any professional association. The computer geeks retrieve the data information from each computer database throughout the state, the country and the world. They load up hourly electronic data into this mainframe computer for..."

She turned and gasped at Tarsal. "But...but that information could be wrong or a lie or false or fake."

He nodded with a smile. "Yes, it could. But that's a starting point to scratch out the fake data from the true data. It's a better system than having to uncover all the information by foot and mouth and then finding out it is all fake and false regarding the murder case."

She nodded several times with a stern face. "Yes, you are right. Finding a single piece of information by foot and then learning it is totally wrong, that is a waste of my precious police time. I do understand the logic of displaying all the wrong and the right information as a starting point of the investigation. This is new Personal ID System is wonderful."

He nodded. "Within our serial killer murder case, Mother Wobbie might not participate in the social organization right now, but she did at one time. That was the method for retrieving that social information. And that social organization is not listed with the other two mothers or two other fathers either. We are trying to find a common factor among the three murdered family units and the lack of information is as important as the common information."

She nodded again. "Yes. Yes. You are correct. I am learning swiftly." Pearlet returned and studied each blue tinted hologram word on each dead body.

He returned back and studied each blue tinted hologram word on each dead body. "The most important piece of information here to me. Each toddler and baby did not attend a day care environment as each mother did not work for money but enjoyed the role of housewife. However, toddler Wittoe attended a private pre-school two days per week. So, each toddler and baby did not know each other through a common day care facility or a mother social relationship. And each school aged child did not attend the same elementary school either. Ten-year-old student Javier attended Gardenville Elementary School. Nine-year-old student Garvey attended Felton Elementary School. Eight-year-old student Willet attended the private Felton Academy, which is a church-school environment. I find that very interesting and very reflecting. I would have thought the elementary school would be the common factor among the children and the mysterious serial killer."

She stated. "Yes. That is interesting."

"We are running through the data fields very quickly and have not found a common factor." He looked down with a stern face and pressed a yellow tinted button. "Now, the next electronic layer of fixed data is going to be more revealing. So far, we have uncovered that each family unit did not socialize for fun or work for pay with each other for any social or economic purpose." Each colored hologram over the dead body swiftly changed and then showed new words in yellow tint.

He exhaled. "The next electronic layer of data lists each church, each eating restaurant, each entertainment facility, each grocery store, each retail shopping store, and each electronic shopping store from the internet."

She nodded. "Each church location is different. I would have thought that the church might have been a common factor here with each murdered family unit, that might lead to the serial killer."

"Me, too."

She frowned. "Where did the name of each eating restaurant, entertainment establishment, and each grocery and merchandise retail shopping store come from? O! I can answer my own question. When a person uses a money credit card, which is not real money, that information is splattered about everyone on the internet. So, your team of computer geeks tapped into each electronic database and captured, dragging the information into the mainframe here with the permission of the vendor and the US Federal Government."

He smiled. "Touché! You catch on very quickly, Pearlet."

She looked down and studied each large word on the computer screen. "Well, I see that Gubnat and the Wollen family clans go to some of the same eating restaurants, entertainment places, and merchandise stores. They even order sets of paid merchandise through their personal home computer coming from some of the common on-line electronic stores. But the Juarez family does not. I remembered that the Juarez does not own a computer laptop inside their personal trailer home either. So, that eliminates a big chunk of non-common data."

"There are millions of data elements to go through, Pearlet. But this is a much quicker way rather than by foot or mouth. This is the month of June. The high temperature today is going to be ninety-six degrees and sweaty hot."

She laughed. "But we're working here inside a freezing cold ice box. I am not complaining, thou."

He thumbed back over his collar bone with a smile and looked down at the console. "There's a hidden compartment door behind you that holds a stack of tall metal stools with padding and a set of warm sweaters. You are welcome to both."

"Yeah!" She spun around and found the hidden door, robbing the compartment. "Do you wanna a sitting stool?"

He continued to stare down into the pit and studied each holographic word. "Yes, please, bring me one also."

"All right!" She dragged out two high padded stools from the closet space and returned them back to the gray tinted steel console, providing one to Tarsal.

"Thank you!" Tarsal sat down and continued to study the holographic words on the monitor.

She grabbed an ugly white tinted wool sweater from the hidden closet and wrapped around her shoulders, gently closing the steel door. The door sucked back into the hidden seam in silence. She smiled at the modern technology then swung around, moving back to her high stool, at the console table, which was next to Tarsal. The high stool was steel made with a red tinted leather seat. She sat down and stared down into the computer monitor.

He exhaled with frustration. "I have finished my scan of each yellow tinted brightly lit holographic word. If I continue to read this bright color, I'm going to go blind."

"Yellow is the brightest color in the world. I think we should tell the computer builders to use a muted peach hue." She laughed.

He laughed. "I agree with you. So far, we have analyzed through our electronic police work this true discovery fact. The three murdered family units did not work for pay or socialize for fun together. They could have met accidentally inside the grocery store but would have ignored each other as they didn't know each other. Now, we will review the next fixed layer from the computer mainframe. But first, what would you look at next, Pearlet?" He turned and smiled at her nose profile.

She stared down at the hologram. "I..."

He nodded. "I ask that police question, because part of the evaluation of the new person ID system is to aid the computer builders and build the Personal ID System with greater efficiency and swifter police analysis, if that's possible. So, what would you analyze next, Police Detective Pearlet?"

She turned then smiled at Tarsal. "Actually, I want to see the physician and hospital medical records on each dead body first. I mean. I did a visual inspection on each dead body inside the morgue a few minutes ago. I would have talked with the medical examiner next and found it if there was a set of usual medical conditions on any of the dead bodies, which could lead to a clue about the serial killer."

He nodded with a smile. "I had the exact same mental police thoughts also. That's an excellent suggestion to place the medical information first in the layer process. The next layer of electronical data is the medical information, which also includes the recent medical examiner. She was here all night until midnight doing her job. This computer system allows for verbal commands as she talked through each body autopsy and also typed it on the portal laptop. All the verbal and typed information has been recorded and stored and translated here inside the mainframe computer for our review."

She smiled. "O! So, my commanding supervisor knew about this new person ID system here that has been installed in the Felton police station."

He laughed. "Yeah, and he is so jealous of Chief Melum."

She laughed. "Yeah, and I am so jealous of you too." Pearlet back and studied the electronic information on each dead body.

He returned with a smile and looked down at the console, pressing a purple tinted button. "Here comes the medical information that will appear in purple words over each chest cavity." Each colored hologram over the dead body swiftly changed and then showed new words in purple tint.

She exhaled with frustration, "Geez! We're batting all goose eggs here. The medical hospital is not the same location either for any of the three murdered family units, where a member of the family had been sick or injured. I think I should withdraw my death theory about the serial killer."

He stared down at the computer screen reading in silence the list of medical terms. "Things are much harder to find and then to prove. This is part of our job as a police detective to detect the real stuff. All of the medical hospitals are located in metro city Birmingham. Birmingham is known as the medical center of the South. The university has a medical school for new physicians. A person can choose any medical facility with the right amount of health insurance and pockets of cash money. I'm surprised at the non-common information, like you also. But Birmingham Hospital is also a charity hospital that takes low income families. Some of the other hospitals do not."

She continued to study each purple tinted word on the computer monitor. "Overall, each murdered child is healthy, except for the sustained injures during their individual death act, which has been documented by the medical examiner. Each adult is overall healthy, too, except for the sustained injures during their individual death act, which has been documented as well. The white cup of gray ashes even show that the little girl and tiny baby were overall in a healthy status of life also. Some of the children had a few childhood diseases during their infancy that had been treated with medicine and then they recovered with ease. And each medical physician has a different proper name and each dentist has a different proper name. Could one of the licensed physicians belong within the same medical practice?"

He laughed. "No. The computer would highlight a professional relationship with any displayed proper name in the hologram as we search for a common denominator."

She turned and frowned at his nose profile. "How would the computer know to do that?"

He turned then winked at Pearlet for fun. "The computer will highlight a linked fact and then display the item in the lovely hue of soft lavender."

She gasped. "You're kidding me! That's a silly color tone for a computer and for a police officer to present during a murder investigation."

He nodded with a laugh. "That's a silly color hue for a manly police officer, like me."

"Yeah, it is for a womanly police officer like me, too!" She returned back and stared down into the computer monitor, silently reading through the medical information, finishing the long list. She exhaled with frustration. Her death theory of a serial killer was not producing any physical connection with the three murdered family units.

Maybe, Tarsal was correct. He had found the murderer of the Wollen family unit as an experienced and trained police detective. Maybe, there was only a single murderer for the Juarez family clan, but not the Gubnat family clan also.

Pearlet had carefully reviewed each the CSI photograph from the house fire while pondering the same conclusion, a house fire.

She frowned. "I am concluding that all the medical data is all non-common information and can be dismissed or eliminated. Each child was loved and taken care of by a set of loving parents. If an illness had happened, then the child as well as the parent had been treated by a non-common doctor at a non-common medical hospital center. None of the medical professionals are common either. I believe that we are ready for the next fixed layer of electronic data. What do you conclude here, Tarsal?"

He exhaled with frustration and stared down at his computer screen. "Yes, I have reached the same conclusion. The medical data is a set of non-common information that does not link any of the family members with each other or a mysterious serial killer," Tarsal looked up with a smile to see her nose profile. "What do you think the next electronic layer would be presented by the person ID system?"

She looked up with a stern brow and faced him, exhaling with too much work. "We have analyzed the work place. Nothing! We looked at all the social places. Nothing! We looked at the medical information pertaining to sickness and health. Nothing! So, we have eliminated the social, medical, and spiritual factors that a person might share with another person. I would want to see the financial aspect which might lead to a serial killer."

He smiled. "Yes, the next layer of electronic data is related to the bank institution, the bank accounts, the tax records, the church donation, the registration fees for an entertainment fun or nasty establishment or a professional association or a costly medical bill or a costly home improvement expense. Pretty much, any place that money is stored or hidden or saved here. But it is based on the most current time period. This is the month of June which will not show any June monies or expenses, only January through May months of this year. We can drill down into more years and all the years, if we think it is necessary. I think this layer should be more intriguing," Tarsal returned back and looked down, pressing a gray button.

She returned and looked down into the computer monitor also. "Yes, it should." Each colored hologram over the dead body swiftly changed and then showed new words in gray tint.

He stared down at the computer screen. "Father Juan's current salary is listed about 4,000 dollars, which is a total of 10,400 dollars, for a calendar year. That's not a lot of money for five people."

She stared down at the computer screen. "Father Juan must receive US Federal Government assistance to help with his family living expenses."

"Yeah, he probably does. But that public information would not entice or excite a serial killer into killing a very low-income family unit."

She continued to stare down into the computer screen. "Yeah, you're correct."

He exhaled. "Father Grady's current salary is listed around 25,000 dollars which would be about 60,000 dollars per year for a family of five. And this money amount is not after taking out all the state and federal income taxes that goes to the US Federal Government. And Father Wrest has made 42,000 dollars, so far, which is 100,000 dollars per year for a family of five."

She gasped in shock. "Wow. Each bank institution name is different. I am not surprised. Father Juan holds actually one dollar and twenty-three cents inside his joint checking account with his wife Juana. Father Grady displays one thousand, three hundred dollars plus some change inside his joint checking account with his married wife Gale. Whoa! Father Wrest displays two million dollars plus inside a bank trust account with his wife Wobbie..."

"That is not surprising here, to me. The Wollen family has lived in the small town of Felton for decades and decades. The family clan has been rumored to live extremely well and own a nice house and drive expensive cars. A bank account of two million plus dollars is a small sum in the relative scheme of things."

"I wished that my personal bank account held two million plus dollars for my relative scheme of things also," she laughed.

He laughed. "Me, too! Father Juan has no debt and no assets. He is a day laborer for the money, honey. Father Grady has lots of debt and no assets as he is a working-class man, like me and you. Father Wrest has minimal debt and lots of assets in his paid off house and big cash bank account. Each working man does not have a costly medical bill or home improvement loan. All of this financial information looks reasonable to me. I do not visual how a serial killer would benefit from killing any of the three family units, unless it was for fun, not motive."

"Yeah, I don't see anything strange pattern here either," she looked up with a stern face to see each hologram outline. "However, a serial killer is a random madman, who never has a sweet or nasty motive or a logical or illogical intent, only a killing method. The vile mutation on each body does exhibit a madman technique and shows a common killing pattern for each associated family member, such like, the beheading of the baby. I don't get it. I don't understand it. I clearly see a common killing pattern here on each dead body. But the massive gathered electronic data is not linking it with any of the three murdered family units. There is always some small hint or clue or link."

He looked up and turned with a stern face to see the nose profile on Pearlet. "The personal ID mainframe has many more layers of electronic data which would keep us here until midnight. I can set the computer to search for a common name or place or property or word or letter or symbol or number that is shared by the three murdered family units, tonight, after we leave our day job," he laughed. "Tomorrow morning, we can return and view the final computer results. As a police detective, if I were out in the messy field, I would have interviewed the neighbors, the relatives, the friends, the frequent entertainment establishments, the churches, and the school teachers, where we had used the computer instead. What I am missing here?"

She stared down into the hologram that covered each dead body. "We have electronically interviewed and then pursued the work, the social, the school, the spiritual, the financial, the money, the medical, the health, and the..."

"Nothing!" He turned and frowned at her nose profile. "I am not seeing a serial killer pattern here that would connect the three murdered family units, Pearlet. Our next step is to visit each murder house and see if there is something around the house, inside the house, around in the neighbor, that is missing here in the computer. A computer is only a tool. Our brain is the answer. But I want to perform one last task with the holographic imagery that you will like. Watch this!" He returned with a smile and looked down at the console panel, pressing a white button. On the pit floor, each gray tinted hologram word and number disappeared and then each real dead body appeared for one second. Then, a new colorful hologram image floated above each dead body in twinkling beauty. He looked up and nodded to the tables of dead people. "I hope you like this last image from the computer. The computer has shown in a hologram style each original human color on every dead body as a final salute of their final rest in peace."

On top of the upper floor level, in front of the console and gray tinted glass, Pearlet continued to sit beside Tarsal and frowned down at the pretty twinkling hologram overlay on each dead body. "This is nothing here. Each family unit comes from a different background, a different level of education, a different level of income, a different social circle, a different church, a different school, a different community, and has a different appearance. The Woolen family unit possesses a golden tan with a head of blond colored hair and a pair of blue eyes. The Gubnat clan displays a tone of pale skinned with a head of red colored hair and a pair of green eyes. The Juarez family member is each dark skinned, a pair of brown eyes, and a head of black hair. They possess no physical feature in common either. Thus, no one family member knew or bumped into or saw another family member for any reason or purpose or goal. I don't understand. Yeah, this is nice for the computer. However, I am still frustrated and disappointed. A serial killer selected these three families and then murdered them in cold blood, at the same time, on the same day. Why? Why? Why? There is no common denominator here. I guess, I was wrong. There is not a serial killer here. I can't find a common factor."

He continued to stare at her, saying with a nod and a stern face. "I'm sorry, Pearlet. The computer is not providing any serial killer information. But we should go and examine each murder house."

She returned down to the floor pit and gasped in alarm, tossing both of her hands in the air, saying with a smile. "Wait! There is one common factor."

"No, there is not."

"Yes, there is. I see it."

"No, there is not. I don't see it."

She smiled down at the floor pit. "The big landmark, the Black Creek Park, it is a common plot of green tinted land right there in neon colors, on the holographic map, which is housed between each residential murder home."

He frowned. "What does that mean?"

She nodded with a smile and pointed down to the electronic map that still surrounded each table of dead bodies. "Black Creek Park is a plot of forest land that features a baseball park and a runner path and all types of social events for every family unit here in Felton and Gardenville. This is the common factor that we are seeking here. The three murdered family units met there together and then they met the serial killer also."

He gasped in alarm. "That's an excellent death theory."

She snapped her fingers with a smile. "Now, we need to access every single digital picture from Black Creek Park for the last ten years or so."

He winked. "I just did."

She gasped. "What!"

He nodded. "A search warrant allows the search of a house. Yesterday, each search warrant allowed the CSI team to search then photograph each family photo album, each mounted family picture, each school picture, each personal mobile telephone, each computer desktop, and each electronic devise, where each physical and electronic image has been input by that team of young computer geeks. Right now, PISS holds every single-family picture, in an electronic version, here inside the mainframe computer right here."

She gasped in shock, "Unbelievable!"

"Believe it! All I have to do is press this button in shiny dark maroon tone. The button will start to scan every single digital picture that has been stored from every single source for each murdered family member. Then the computer will display each digital picture that shows all the three murdered family members in one single electronic photograph here on the computer screen. The computer can't show a digital piece as a hologram."

She slid off the high stool and nodded with a gasp, "That...that is so ingenious and so helpful and so brilliant of PISS. It...it would take the police detective thousands and thousands of work hours and numerous pairs of eyeballs to find that one photograph."

He nodded with a smile and pressed the button. "Where PISS can it do in minutes, well, it might take the computer an hour or so. So, let's go and get some lunch downstairs inside the new lounge room. I wanna show you the kitchen space," Tarsal scooted off the stool and reached down, grabbing the item and her stool, spinning around to face the hidden closet on the back wall. He moved ahead and found the correct closet, opening the door, replacing each high stool back in position.

At the console in front of the gray tinted glass, Pearlet leaned down on top of the smooth metal and stared down at each dead body that continued to twinkle in their original human color. Then the hologram of each dead body disappeared and was replaced with the previous electronic map of wavy lines of blue water streams, black wiggling roadway lines, and green circular forests. She back stepped from the console with a gasp and tossed both of her palms in the air, saying with a worried brow. "Hey! I'm so sorry. I did something over here."

He closed the closet then pressed the long seam, feeling a flush line in the steel wall, wearing a smile. "No. The hologram image will vanish after a few minutes. The mainframe computer is powering down into a rest mod. Tomorrow, it will reboot and show up the computer results."

She pointed with a sour frown down at the pit floor. "No. I am not sorry. I mean. You did something to the computer. That is not a funny scene down there on the pit floor, Tarsal."

He spun around with a smile and slowly moved ahead, stopping in front of the console, standing beside Pearlet. He stared down at the pit floor. "Yes, I did do something. I started the computer to find a common name or place or picture or word or letter or symbol that each one of the murdered family units shared. We will review the computer results later..."

"No!" She jabbed her finger down at the pit floor and frowned at Tarsal. "This is a sick joke, Tarsal. I don't enjoy it. And I didn't like it. I'm talking about the blinking lavender dot."

He looked down at the pit floor with a smile. "What blinking lavender dot?"

She frowned at his face. "Are you blind or stupid? There is a blinking lavender dot beside each city street name inside the electronic map next to each murdered family unit. You said that a blinking lavender dot comes from the computer database that indicates a common name or place or picture."

He gasped with a smile. "The computer has found a shared electronic picture, which is indicated by a blinking lavender dot. I have never seen a real lavender dot before on the electronic map field. This is my first time too here." He reached down and held his finger over the lavender button, looking up with a smile to see her face. "You did it, Pearlet. There is an electronic picture with all three murdered family members that proves your serial killer theme. Congratulations, police detective!"

She gasped in shock, "Really! That's why the lavender dot is blinking and saying electronically."

He nodded with a smile. "Yes, there is a lavender dot at each city street name, because the computer does not place the name on each death victim on the map, only the chest cavity within the hologram image. This is it. This is the find. This is the moment. This is the common factor that will reveal the serial killer."

She gagged and then coughed with worry. She didn't know this man or his professional or personal reputation. He could have setup a tiny joke. She sneered. "Is this a joke?"

He smiled. "This is the truth. Are you ready?"

She slightly bounced up and down while softly clapping and nodding with excitement. "Yes. Yes. Yes. Press the button."

He held his finger over the lavender button and then wiggled his eyebrows at her. "Do you wanna press the lavender button?"

"No!" She reached over and slapped down his hand over the lavender button with a sneer while tired of his taunting, invading his personal space while leaning down onto the console slanted hard surface.

Down on the pit floor, the three individual blinking lavender dots in the air waves swiftly morphed into a single common name: Wallis Wollen.

Tarsal back stepped with a laugh from her folded body and her vicious personality, turning with a gasp, seeing the same name, instead of the three blinking lavender dots. "What is this? Is this a joke? Where did that name come from? This is an error in the mainframe computer," he reached out and jerked her body away from the console, moving ahead and stopped, standing at the control panel. He started tapping on each colorful button to find the error inside the software with a worried brow.

She swiftly stumbled backwards from him with a soft growl then stopped, standing upright in place a few feet from Tarsal and console, staring at his odd behavior in silence.

He continued to punch each colorful button and mumbled over and over, again, "This is wrong. There is an error. Something is wrong with the computer."

She frowned at the single name next to each murdered family unit. "What is wrong, Tarsal? The blinking lavender dot is right."

He continued to punch colorful buttons and mumbled with worry. "No! This is wrong. There is something is wrong."

She reached over and shoved his body away from the console with an angry tone, "Stop it, Tarsal! Move away from the computer," she blocked the console from his view and his hands. "There is nothing wrong here. Let's do this logically with one step at a time. Now, the lavender button has shown a name. What is the next step to research the name or something?"

He stared at the console. "Ugh!"

"What would you do next?"

He exhaled with worry. "Ugh!"

"Close your eyelids! Do not look at the name!"

He mumbled "Ugh!"

She pointed her finger at his face with a sour frown. "Close your eyelids now!" He closed his eyelids into darkness. She nodded. "Now, what is the next step in identifying the blinking lavender dot in the electronic map field?"

He exhaled. "I am supposed to press the hot pink button. Then the common item would display all the important information on top of each dead body for my discovery and then my review."

She smiled at his face, "Excellent answer!" Pearlet spun around with a giggle and moved ahead, colliding into the tall console stand, reaching out with a wiggling finger pad. "I'll do it for us. You come and stand a few feet behind my back spine. Don't touch anything. I wanna see what the common piece of information shows."

He continued to stand against the cool steel wall and opened his two eyelids with a gasp. "No! This is wrong. This is an error on the map field."

She bounced her wiggling finger in the air near the pink button on top of the console panel. "Why is it an error, Tarsal? Give me one good explanation!"

He nodded. "Wallis Wollen is the murderer of the Wollen family."

She spun around with a gasp "What! That's impossible. I mean. That is possible. But how is that possible for him to be the mysterious serial killer and the person connection between the three murdered family units?"

He shook his curls with a worried brow. "I don't know that answer. I had Wallis Wollen arrested on this property yesterday for the murder of his brother and his brother's family members. I sent him into the jail here at the Felton police station. Maybe, one of the young and rushed computer geeks accidentally typed his proper name inside the computer in the wrong place."

She nodded with a stern face. "Well, that's a very good human error and computer related explanation here and it could be a human mistake. But we have to press the hot pink button and explore all the right police options here. Is that not correct, to you, also, Tarsal? It is correct to me, Tarsal."

He exhaled with worry. "Ugh!"

She nodded. "Yes, it is your answer. Yes, this is my answer too," she spun around with a smile.

He pointed at the console with a scream. "Don't press that button!"

She pressed the pink button with a giggle, "Too late!"

He stood in place and stared with a gasp at the electronic map field. The electronic map swiftly grew in size and then physically covered up each row of five tables with a dead body. Beside each name of Wallis Wollen, a pink tinted box swiftly appeared in solid hue without blinking in alarm.

She frowned down at the enlarged electronic map field with confusion. "What is the computer doing?"

He moved ahead, stopped, then stood beside her, staring down at the map field also. "It is sharing with us more information. A pink tinted box is a residential home. The computer has linked the name of Wallis Wollen with a set of numerous pink tinted boxes in the map field for some reason."

"I know the Wollen surname is represented by a real estate company. So that makes some sense. His brother was a real estate agent also. So, the computer has identified all of his land holdings here on the field map."

He continued to sit by Pearlet and stared down at the map field. "That's all true. The computer is correct. What does his name and his land holdings have to do with the three murdered families? I can't believe that I was right for the wrong reason," Tarsal reached down and fiddled with the control panel of buttons.

She turned and gasped down at his fingers with concern, "What are you doing?"

"I am going to sync up the three murdered family units with all of his personal or business land holdings. The computer has done that also. But we need to see the details." He reached over and pressed the aqua colored button, "Each button-press performs a different function on top of the console panel inside the computer mainframe, which is associated and then displayed on top of the geographical map. I'm enlarging each land holding, that is owned by Wallis Wollen, seeing each physical address."

She gasped in alarm. "Wallis Wollen owns the residential houses at 701 Walker Court and 2404 Stouts Court and 3001 Heaton Court. How is that possible? These are the murder houses that are owned by the dead people."

He frowned down at the electronic map. "I don't know that answer, but I can find out. I am accessing the land property for each murdered family unit, which is a deeper layer of electronic information, which we had chosen not to access. We were letting the computer do the work."

She nodded. "And the computer did the work and found my serial killer."

"Yeah."

The electronic map changed in appearance. She screamed out loud. "What are you doing? You're erasing the link with my serial killer."

He exhaled to calm his nerves. "No. I need to see the land property numbers. I just removed the old image and then replaced with the new one." Each colorful hologram appeared over each dead body again showing both words and letters in aqua hue.

He read out loud the glittering aqua tinted information from the hologram image. "Father Juan lives at 701 Walker Court in a trailer house. The computer shows that address which comes from the driver's license or the tax form or a work employment record or another physical form of ID that Juan had given to another party. Father Grady lives at 2404 Stouts Court and Father Wrest lives at 3001 Heaton Court. However, a person can live in a house or an apartment or a red barn or a dirt ditch as long as the US Federal Government knows where to send the tax bill, until you are homeless. So, a person can live in a dirt ditch but not on the dirt or the ditch or the grass. That's it!"

She frowned at the hologram words and numbers on the map. "What is it? You're losing me here."

He reached over and pressed the peach colored button with a smile. "I have the answer here." Each colorful hologram appeared over each dead body again showing the peach colored words and letters over the chest cavity of each adult male.

She gasped in shock and read out each word and number. "The peach colored words display the glittering words: house value, land value, and land property taxes. Each glittering word has a glittering number of zero dollars and zero cents. That does not make any sense. They live in the house."

"They live in their house. They do not own their house. They do not pay the mortgage note on the house or the land or the property taxes on both. Wallis Wollen owns the house and pays the mortgage note on the land and the house and also the property taxes. This is it. Each renter must own him tons of money. Money is the root of all evil. So, he killed each one as each one could not pay him the money, honey."

She frowned. "That is a ridiculous assumption for a murder crime."

He turned then nodded to Pearlet. "They are dead. He is alive. The house is trashed with their blood and guts and ready to sale to another happy couple."

She exhaled. "I can see that he owns each murder house. Why would he murder both his own brother and his renter? He could've evicted each one and saved the house and rented to another party. This is not correct."

He returned back and smiled down at the console, pressing a mint green button. "I can do some more in-depth research with the mainframe." The electronic map changed and then showed a row of pink tinted boxes beside each murder house. "Look at that! Each murder house is shown in the proper geographical spot. There are three pink boxes in a row with 701 Walker Court. Wallis Wollen owns each one of these trailer houses and the land plots. There are three pink boxes in a row with 2404 Stouts Court. He also owns each one of those houses there. And there is a pink box beside 3001 Heaton Court. That is his personal residential house right next to his dead brother. This is about money, honey. He secretly killed these innocent hard-working people for his greed and their money. We're going to catch him and then burn his butthole in the electric chair at the capitol building in Montgomery."

She gasped in shock and nodded with sadness. "I believe you here. Why did he do it?"

Tarsal exhaled with anger, "I can prove it also," he reached over and pressed a tan colored button. On the map, each pink tinted house, a set of tan colored words and number appeared.

She gasped in shock at the new information on the electronic map. "I can't believe this. Each pink house displays the tan colored words: house value, land value, property taxes, and house property insurance. That proves that Wallis Wollen owns each house and pays the annual property taxes. However, the house property insurance at 701 Walker Court is 500,000 dollars or a half of million dollars. The house property insurance at 2404 Stouts Court is one million dollars. And that house burned down to the ground yesterday. The house property insurance at 3001 Heaton Court is two million dollars. How can he receive a half-a-million dollars for a piece of rental property?"

Tarsal continued to stand at the console and gritted his jaw, staring down at the electronic map of tan colored numbers that covered each row of dead people. "The big gigantic insurance companies are wealthy like each tech company. An insurance company takes a chance or a risk that the insured house will not burn down in a fire or become destroyed in a man-made or Mother Nature disaster. But I guess Wallis Wollen couldn't wait on Mother Nature's wrath. So, he created his own man-made disaster, a house murder. A murder inside a low-income neighbor is never solved by the police. It was bad luck that the bad criminal found you and then killed you. Now, he owns that house free and clear. The renters are free and dead. I am so mad. I had him arrested yesterday also. But I was overruled. Now, I have him," he laughed with an evil grin.

She frowned. "No. We have more work to do."

He sneered. "What work?"

She exhaled. "We have more police work to do, Tarsal. So what? Wallis Wollen owns a row of houses and has owned them for years, maybe decades. We must place his face or his finger print or his body there at the scene of the murder crime for three murdered family units. This is very, very difficult to accomplish. I mean. We could do that for one murdered family unit but three separate murdered family units that live in three separate geographical locations. He had help. There is another murderer or two. That's the only explanation. We need to leave and ..."

"He was at the scene of the Wollen house crime yesterday. I had him arrested for..."

She frowned. "Why did you arrest Wallis? What were his police charges?"

"He discharged a firearm within the city limits of Felton while killing the family pet dog of his brother. However, the police charges were dropped by Chief Melum."

She nodded with a stern face. "I can see the reason for that ridiculous firearm charge. Why was the family pet dog attacking Wallis?"

He sneered. "The family pet dog charged out from the house, after Wallis killed his family."

She waved both of her arms in the air and shook her curls, dropping both of her hands down onto her skirt. "Stop it! Stop, Tarsal! You are not thinking like a police officer. You are thinking like a brother or a sister of a dead parent. What happened to the dog?"

He growled. "I told you. Wallis killed the dog with his twelve-gauge shotgun."

"Did you see him kill the dog?"

He sneered. "Yes."

"Why would he kill an innocent dog? Was the dog actually running to him for help, instead of harm?"

He growled. "No. I heard the dog. The dog was growling and mouth drooling directly at Wallis. The dog saw..."

She waved both of her arms again in the air and dropped them down onto the business skirt. "Stop it, Tarsal! You are not a dog expert here. Well, no one is a dog expert. I guess. Wait! I want you to relax and release your anger here. Lean against the wall!"

He gasped. "What!"

She shoved him from the console and then stopped, standing in front of him. "Go and stand against the cool steel wall!" Tarsal leaned into the steel wall, feeling the cool temperature. She nodded. "Close your eyelids!"

He sneered. "What?"

She reached up with a smile and pressed his eyelids down over his eyeballs. "Close your eyelids." He closed the eyelids and buzzed his lips with a sour frown. She smiled. "Now, breathe in and breathe out and calm your emotions." He didn't obey. She smiled. "Now, calm down and speak with your normal manly voice..."

"What?"

She giggled with a grin. "That is not a normal sexy manly voice. I want you to describe your encounter at the Wollen house yesterday word-for-word and action-for-action. You must have received a Signal Zero Code or something..."

He wiggled side to side against the cool steel with his two eyelids shut. "Yes, I received a Signal Zero Code and responded in my personal pickup truck. I slid over the grass and stared at the emergency on top of the nicely manicured lawn of green grass and scattered pods of colored flowers. Wallis stood upright and held a gun on part of the manicured yard. Then I slid out the truck and raced ahead yelling for him to stop and not shoot the dog. He shot the dog."

She nodded, "All right. Do not open your eyelids. Now, I am going to ask you some standard police-like questions."

He frowned with his shut eyelids, "What for? We are wasting time here."

"No. We are not wasting time. Keep your eyelids closed. Because, we have proven that Wallis Wollen owned the murder houses and we are assuming that he is the murderer. And he killed the family pet dog for some particular reason. Maybe, the pet dog holds something that connects Wallis to his brother murder. I want you to concentrate on the dog."

"Okay!"

"Tell me only about the dog from your first sight inside your pickup truck!"

He exhaled. "Inside my truck, I saw the dog race ahead towards Wallis. The dog was running away from the murder house and racing towards Wallis."

She nodded. "Was the dog coming from the garage or from the patio or from its outside dog house?"

"The dog clearly had exited from the messy, bloody kitchen floor. The dog had left a faint set of bloody dog paw prints in the grass and on the pink tinted patio bricks."
She nodded. "So, the dog was inside the house, when the murder occurred on each family member."

He exhaled. "I don't know the true location of the dog. If it was asleep, then it didn't hear the murderer. Yes, based on the single direction of the dog and its tracks of bloody dog paw prints. The dog was inside the house during the murder."

She frowned. "Did anyone police officer or CSI responder guess about the presence of the dog inside the house?"

"No."

She nodded. "That is not important now. The dog clearly was asleep during the actual murder and then had heard the murderer leaving and then came running out the house, chasing after the murderer. We will go on that assumption. Tell me what happened after you exited your truck!"

He exhaled. "I grabbed my mobile telephone and my hand gun, sliding out the seat, racing ahead toward Wallis."

She nodded. "Where was the dog?"

"The dog was running at an angle from me but heading straight towards Wallis."

She nodded. "Why did you grab your personal mobile telephone?"

"I raced ahead and called for police backup with the emergency."

She nodded. "You didn't really hear the growl or snarl or snort on the dog or a word coming from Wallis, only seeing the dog and the actions of Wallis. Is that right?"

"Yes."

"You called for police backup. You are running ahead toward Wallis and at an angle towards the dog. Tell me what happened next!"

He exhaled. "I dropped the phone down to the ground and held the gun with both hands, shouting at Wallis to stop and do not shoot the dog."

"Where was the dog?"

"The dog was fast and continued to ignore me also and raced directly towards Wallis."

She nodded. "You dropped the phone that didn't create any more noise into your eardrums. You are running and breathing heavy aiming your police-issued gun and shouting at loud. Did you hear the dog breathing?"

"Yes. I heard the dog growling. A dog doesn't breathe hard but pants with the tongue out, when heated."

She nodded. "Are you getting closer to the dog? Was the dog's tongue out of its mouth?"

"No. I am on a collision course with Wallis. The dog is on a collision course with Wallis too."

She nodded. "Can you see the side profile on the running dog? Tell me about the dog!"

He exhaled. "The dog is still running towards Wallis and ignoring me. I am closer to both Wallis and the dog while shouting out loud at Wallis. The dog is running, growling and snarling at Wallis too."

She nodded. "Did the dog carry an object inside its mouth?"

"No."

"Did the dog drag an object behind its leg?"

"No."

"Did the dog stop running for any reason?"

"No." He gasped. "Wait! The dog tumbled a misstep during its run. But the dog resumed a steady pace very quickly. I didn't stop running but continued to stare at Wallis and shouted out loud at Wallis, but my eyeball saw the misstep on the dog."

She nodded. "Why did the dog misstep?"

He twisted his neck muscles side to side and squeezed both his two eyelids. "Wait! There is something else there. Wallis, he held the shotgun underneath his armpit. Yes. He was reloading the shotgun with a shell."

She nodded. "Did Wallis shoot at the dog before you had arrived on the murder scene?"

"No. No. The Signal Zero Code only mentioned an armed person, not a gun shot. And I would have heard a single gunshot inside the cab of the truck, before I parked on top of the manicured lawn."

She nodded. "Yes, you and the other neighbors would have heard the echo blast of a twelve-gauge shotgun also. So, Wallis had not tried to kill or even harm the dog, before you had arrived. The dog had followed Wallis outta of the murder house in stealth mode, without Wallis's knowledge. It must be a hunting breed dog. So, Wallis spun around after the hearing the loud growl of a pursing dog and then he saw the dog. Where did the shotgun come from?"

"The..."

She frowned. "Forget that question. What happened next? Wallis was re-loading his shotgun. But the dog was gaining speed as Wallis was a stationary upright figure on top of the manicured lawn. Was Wallis moving backwards from you or the dog?"

"No. He was a stationary target and still while trying to reload an empty shotgun. The dog was racing fast at doggie speed. So, he..."

"What?" She gasped. "What did Wallis do?"

He opened his eyeballs and stared down at her. "Wallis was a stationary target and reached back into the pocket of his blue jeans and pulled out a silver tinted crowbar. He tossed the crowbar right at the dog. I saw the crowbar flight through the air. I didn't shoot it because it was too close to the growling dog. His aim was short and poor. But the dog stumbled it misstep and then leaned down and picked up the crowbar. He chewed on the crowbar and then spit it back out onto the manicured lawn."

She gasped with a smile. "The crowbar is the murder weapon that we are searching for. Wallis was so afraid of an angry dog that could rip out his guts that he pitched it away to save his sorry life. The shotgun was useless until he finished loading the shell into the barrel. I read your police report. Then Wallis fired and killed the dog. Then you collided into Wallis and cuffed him. Then Wallis went to the Felton lockup and Wallis didn't get a chance to grab his murder weapon. Where is his crowbar? We need to find that crowbar. It has the blood protein of his brother and their family member all over it The CSI team can scan for blood."

"Yes. Yes." Tarsal gasped with a smile. "I asked the CSI team to grab and bag it for me last night at the Wollen murder house. The Birmingham CSI has the weapon evidence." He slid sideways with worry. "I need to call the Birmingham CSI team unit. But I didn't know which of the numerous Birmingham CSI team units came here last night. There were two of them. Zimb! You should have been there to bag and tag that murder weapon for me, instead of the CSI Birmingham team. Now, Wallis is going to walk free and clear, if I can't find that murder weapon." He moved ahead and continued to softly curse at his co-worker and his friend Zimb, who had been incompetent last night at the crime scene and then halted. "Wait!" He spun around with a smile and dashed ahead and stopped, standing in front of the console, typing on the keyboard. "The crowbar is here at the Felton police station. I ordered the CSI Birmingham to grab and bag and bring it here."

She spun around and moved ahead, standing beside him. "You have the crowbar here. You removed from the hidden compartment on the side wall and showed me."

He continued to type on the keyboard. "No. That was my personal crowbar tool that I had brought into my work to measure the angle on the ripped off human flesh. I wanted to see if that was the correct murder weapon, even though I didn't know, and I didn't have the correct murder weapon. But I do now," he stopped the clicking of keys and read in silence the information, gasping in alarm at the computer screen. "No. No. I can't find the crowbar inside the electronic murder inventory from last night."

She nodded at the computer screen. "It was mislabeled."

He growled at the screen. "No. We make mistakes but not those types of mistakes. The murder weapon is not here."

"So, where is it?"

He sneered at the computer screen. "The crowbar must still be on top of the lawn, where Wallis had tossed it. There has not been a rain storm to wash away the blood stains either."

"The crowbar is gone. Wallis came home this morning from Felton lockup."

He exhaled with frustration and shook his curls, closing his two eyelids, silently praying. "It is the only miracle I have left," he opened his two eyelids and back stepped from the console, turning into her body, scooting around Pearlet with a stern face. He led back down the avenue towards the staircase, saying with a stern face. "Let's go and see. If the crowbar is still there, Wallis is going to jail. If it is not, we can still bring up the ownership on each house. If he can't hold the bloody weapon, then we can slap the blood on his face."

"Poor strategy." She spun around from the console and followed behind his back spine with a worried brow.

He marched down the staircase with a sad face, viewing the tables of dead people. "Poor victims." Tarsal hit the steel floor then turned to face the steel entrance wall, opening the hidden doorway. He held the door for Pearlet. She exited out from the morgue storage room and moved ahead into the brightly lit yellow tinted lounge eating room. He exited out from the morgue storage room also and followed behind her.

On the upper floor level, the PISS mainframe computer continued to scan each stored digital picture for a matching face to one of the three murdered victims, within the dead family unit.

At 11:11 am, inside the police station lounge room setting, Tarsal rushed ahead then pulled in front of Pearlet veering towards the side wall with a long silver and white granite counter top, reaching out and grabbed a white tinted paper-lunch box from a tall stack and then a plastic tall tumbler with a hidden beverage. He cuddled the box and the sealed tumbler into his chest, moving ahead towards the red tinted metal door. "Grab your lunch and your drink to go. We eat in my truck and drive to the Wollen murder house, without stopping." He halted in front the closed door and wiggled each two food items side to side, stretching out a free hand towards the door knob.

The red metal door slid open and revealed a familiar face.

Melum stood inside the archway with a smile. "Tarsal and Pearlet, the two people I need right now. I'm hosting a new police department news conference less than twenty minutes at the Gardenville auditorium with food and announcing the serial killer alert for all citizens within both the Gardenville and Felton city limits. I would like both of you there as my dual police support. During a crisis, the community needs a smiling and younger face to ease the scary tension. Each police patrol is working on overtime right now and has been alerted for a suspicious person. I spoke with your commanding supervisor, Pearlet. You are officially on my detective team and my personal responsibility. So, Tarsal is warned to be on his best Nature Boy behavior. Now, is there some fresh news that needs to be shared with the public community regarding the mysterious serial killer? A description? An odor? A killing pattern?"

"No." Tarsal exhaled. "No. We still do not have enough details to share regarding a mysterious serial killer's physical description. But please ask each citizen to report all suspicious activity that can be immediately investigated and ask each citizen about the past three murdered family units. The serial killer could be living there inside their community and the citizens do not even know it."

Melum frowned. "I don't know if I want to specifically give out too much death details on the precious fifteen murdered souls. Not all the neighbors know where the serial killer has hit. Why is reason for the last request, Tarsal?"

He exhaled. "The CSI report is poor and is going to show more poor results from the pond of blood inside each house and on each body. The CSI team members do not want the dead bodies washed until more blood and skin have been retrieved for analysis. The blood had covered everything. I don't think we will be successful here like the police force usually is. I am just acknowledging that we might need a new approach here. But Pearlet and I have finished our electronic interview with PISS. And we came up with nothing." Pearlet gasped and then gagged, coughing and clearing her throat. She sipped on the cool beverage to cover her shocked response to Tarsal's lie.

Melum frowned. "I don't like that nasty nickname, Tarsal. And this is too bad. Usually, the computer provides one or two good leads..."

"Not today! But we plan to go revisit each murder home and perform an old fashion foot to mouth search that way with the grounds, the trees, and the neighbors."

Melum nodded with a smile. "Good job, Pearlet and Tarsal! I do not mean to rush you here, but I want you to get going driving to the Gardenville auditorium, right now. And that does not mean forty minutes from now, Tarsal. I have so little information to share with the public that my news conference will be wrapped up eight minutes, after the hour. Get moving towards the auditorium, Tarsal! Pearlet, you, come with me. You need to sign some official lawyer paperwork from the Felton city lawyer working for me on this new serial killer murder case," She back stepped with a nod and spun around, moving back into her office.

"Yes ma'am," he moved ahead with a smile towards the entrance doors, ripping open the lunch box, grabbing the sandwich and left a trail of food crumbs over the floor, like always.

The computer geek kids in high school and college were a group of environment nuts and liked to clean up the dirty police office before, during and after their paid work hours.

Pearlet moved ahead with a stern face and reached down, placing her lunch box on top of the eating tables for another police officer to consume, exiting the lounge room. She followed the back spine on Melum in silence and then disappeared back into the police chief's private business office.

Tarsal exited the police lobby, without Pearlet behind his boot heels, and swiftly moved ahead towards his pickup truck while swiftly wolfing down the meaty sandwich and bag of salty potato chips, dumping the dirty trash on top of the gray pavement. The wild animals enjoyed cleaning up the outdoors for the nice police officers also. He stopped then opened the unlocked door, wiping both of his dirty hands on top of his clean blue jeans. He was police officer and carried a hand gun.

Dare someone to steal his truck!

He slid inside the driver's seat and slapped his hand over the steering column, leaning down and started the cold engine for a few seconds. He gunned the gasoline pedal, when the roadway was clear, heading out onto the pavement then swiftly raced the truck down the city street on Walker Chapel while watching for other traveling vehicles. Inside the cab, he shook his curls while softly cursing at the roadway and his trusting soul with the new information from the PISS computer mainframe.

Wallis Wollen owned the three residential houses, which were located at 701 Walker Court, 2404 Stouts Court, and 3001 Heaton Court, and he had really murdered three family units, consisting of a mother, a father, and their young children. And Wallis was about to get away with the murderous crime, if Tarsal didn't get to the bloody crowbar first.

Tarsal couldn't believe his eyeballs or his bad luck. Wallis had tossed that crowbar at the running dog, right in front of a pair of eyeballs on a police officer, and then exposed his murder weapon on top of the manicured lawn. Then he had killed the dog in meanness. The smart obedient dog breed had been correct with its doggie instincts, trying to attack and then kill the murderer of his loving family unit.

On top of the same roadway Walker Chapel, Tarsal continued to speed his personal pickup truck down the busy street and shook his blonde tinted curls while softly cursing his bad luck. He ran the red light at the traffic intersection and then swiftly turned off the main highway, before the large traffic intersection. There was not one single on-going vehicle that couldn't cause any terrible automobile accident. He pressed the gasoline pedal down to the floor and sped through the county street, heading towards the city of Gardenville.

The auditorium in Gardenville was located in a northeastern direction, which was three road miles from the Felton police station. He would be there in record time, sitting in the front row, eating a warm food plate and waiting on Melum to arrive.

Police Chief Melum enjoyed showing up late for every police news conference, so the media reporters and television cameras watched her body movement, capturing her full attention.

However, the tiny town of Felton rarely presented, for public view, a single police crime, within the city limits. And Melum rarely presided over any nasty police crime, within the city of Felton. Honestly, the tiny town of Felton experienced the usual crime events, such like, home burglaries, domestic violence between relatives, fist fights inside the local bar, numerous vehicle accidents on the roadway, a rare arson house or forest fire, and the occasionally cold blood murder of a person which usually had been committed by a family member on another family member. So, Melum didn't spend much time in front of the media television cameras. Well, today was her day of glory and the infamous "fifteen minutes of fame," as they say.

Pearlet and Tarsal, they were going to be presented as the pair of younger police officers, who eased the fear with the younger group of students, within the two cities of Gardenville and Felton.

However, Tarsal was most eager to race back to the Wollen murder house and find the lost crowbar, then jail Wallis Wollen for the murder, this afternoon. Wallis Wollen would not flee from his house or his home state as he had covered his murderous tracks and was about to toss a lawsuit up the butthole on Berothall Carknoll, the mayor of Felton.

At 11:25 am, on the same roadway, Tarsal slammed down on the brake pads then slowed the truck speed, slowly turning sharply into a crowded parking lot that displayed rows and rows of colorful parked vehicles consisting of numerous media television station vans, government officials, business owners, and concerned citizens.

An individual sat inside the auditorium space or shuffled ahead towards the open entrance doors. The auditorium building, within Gardenville, had been specially built to hold local activities, such like, a basketball court for fun, a fitness center for fun exercise, and numerous meeting rooms for fun parties.

The population in Gardenville was split with a group of elderly retired military families and the gang of mature adults with children and teenagers, who worked in Birmingham but lived in the sweet town of Gardenville.

Within the parking lot, Tarsal performed a U-turn then parked near the roadway for a swift getaway. As soon as the media television, newspaper, and radio reporters started asking a series of nosy questions to Police Chief Melum, he was jerking Pearlet off the platform stage, leaving the auditorium. They had police work to do, arresting Wallis Wollen.

Too bad, Tarsal couldn't find the murderous crowbar right now then arrest Wallis Wollen immediately, bringing the upcoming new prisoner of Felton in front of the rows of media reporters here.

Inside the truck cab, he killed the engine then opened the door, sliding down onto the smooth pavement, closing the door. He moved ahead and scanned the parking lot for any trouble, like a trained police officer. Each concerned citizen moved ahead towards a pair of open entrance doors of solid green tinted metal as the building was also a shelter for any man-made or Mother Nature disaster. Tarsal swiftly moved ahead and passed the busy entrance doors, shadowing the side wall on the three-story building then stopped, standing in front of the two uniformed police officers. This was the secret passageway for Melum and her police officers. He whipped out his police badge with a nod in silence to each stern face police officer for entering the auditorium. One of the uniformed police officers reached over, and grabbed the door knob, opening the door with a nod in silence also.

Tarsal entered a semi-dark side enclosed room, without a viewing window but a row of folding chairs on the entrance wall for a set of visitors. The forward wall held a line of naked wooden tables with an assortment of hot and cold trays of food and beverages. He moved ahead with a smile and stopped, standing at the end of the food line with a soft chuckle.

Beside Tarsal, a line of other individuals with a familiar face held a plate of food still diving into the next food tray, lightly sounding with a set of soft chuckles. The familiar individuals included each mayor from the city of Felton and Gardenville, the police chief in Gardenville, and his two police detectives, and a couple of local government officials from each city also.

Tarsal grabbed an empty plate from the stack of stoneware then slowly scooted down the food line, piling each individual food item over the pretty Gardenville logo of a green tinted tree branch that glittered in the middle of the stoneware. He also tasted each food item first for fun. At the end of the food line, he grabbed a cool beverage and then back stepped with his food plate, swinging around to face the closed red tinted metal door. He couldn't see the people but heard the two police officers steering away each stranger or nosy media news reporter back towards the set of open entrance doors, where a set of police officers stood at attention and ready to control the rowdy crowd of citizens, after hearing the scary police statement from the moving lips on Melum.

In front of the line of food tables, Tarsal turned to face the internal auditorium setting then slowly moved ahead and sipped the cool beverage, swallowing the cool liquid, slowly entering through a side door.

The auditorium setting was really an official-sized basketball court, where any high school basketball team could play for competition or practice. Three mint green painted walls that represent the green tinted branch of a broken tree limb held a tiered group of light colored wooden solid bleachers for sitting or standing, which was currently filled with an assortment of mature individuals that overflowed down onto the polished floor. On top of the polished floor, rows and rows of individual metal colorful chairs stood silence and as every individual sat down and chatted with a buddy or stood upright in front of the chair and then chatted with a different buddy.

On the forward wall, across from the entrance wall, a long row of wooden naked tables had been erected in ugly beauty, where each community representative would sit eating a plate of food, like Tarsal. In the middle of the row, two naked tables presented a dangling white-tinted cloth which was creatively designed with the Gardenville logo, a green tinted broken tree limb and the Felton city logo, a sitting red tinted baby fawn deer.

Tarsal turned to face an empty row of metal colored folding chairs, where the distinguished representatives would eventually sit with him. He slowly moved down the row then selected the last chair. He didn't want his face captured by the flash from each digital camera or a set of television lenses. He placed the food plate on top of the naked wooden table then scooted down inside the chair, leaning over, eating the good tasty food and admired the room of citizens.

Some of the citizen continued to stand and chat. Other citizens sat and chatted. Other citizens sat and stared back at Tarsal while waiting on the new police media conference.

Tarsal carefully examined the row of closer citizens that could be concealing a hand gun or a hand club or a sharp dinner knife that had been used, during the suppertime meal, last night.

The public was not stupid but aware. The gang of concerned citizens had gathered here, after hearing about the cold-blooded murders of three entire family units through the television and radio media outlets, which had occurred within the city limits of both Gardenville and Felton. They were scared and maybe armed with a weapon right here inside the auditorium, which was one reason there was a heavy presence of police officers, who carried an exposed hand gun for any type of trouble or violent act or action against the distinguished representative or another citizen. Each police patrol car from Felton and Gardenville was slowly scouting each neighborhood for any suspicious activity or person of interest.

Inside the auditorium setting, Tarsal continued to eat and examined each person with care.

The row of chairs on the wooden tables quickly filled with a distinguished individual person, who carried a plate of food also. Pearlet had passed the food table and followed the back spine on Melum, wearing a smirk of new emotions, sitting down beside Tarsal. Tarsal continued to sit eating his plate of food, staring into a loud and noisy audience. Each metal chair was filled behind a long naked wooden table with a folded body.

Inside the small enclosed room, Melum stopped then stood within the dark shadows, watching the active room with nervous and concerned citizens, wearing a slight smirk of amusement also. She had been a small-town police chief for decades and droned over her lazy police staff until today, when a smart young female police detective had discovered a murderous pattern of a serial killer. Now, Melum was going to become instantly famous while riding this wild roller coast for every bit of attention and hopefully an assortment of upcoming social, professional and personal rewards. She continued to stand in the shadows with a smirk wiggling her mouth side to side while trying to iron out the smirk and watched the people. The crowded auditorium of numerous souls slowly settled down for the new upcoming police announcement.

Inside the small enclosed room, with the table of good smelling food trays, Melum slowly moved ahead from the internal darkness, wearing a stern face, strolling down the rows of occupied chairs. She leaned down and gently tapped the human collar bone on each distinguished person, advancing towards the middle of the row.

A tall, wide wooden podium stood in-between the two center tables, holding a mounted microphone. She stopped then stood in front of the podium, reaching over and touched the microphone, staring into the crowd with a stern face. Her stern face and silent movement worked very effectively. The auditorium of concerned citizens slowly stilled each body movement standing at attention or sitting down in a squeaky metal chair while staring back with a worried brow and an open mouth at Police Chief Jacquerie Melum.

In front of the podium, in the middle of the row, Melum slowly raised both of her arms in the air wearing a stern face as a set of soft mumbles rose from the quiet audience of concerned citizens. Then she swiftly dropped down and slapped both of her palms at the edge on the wooden platform as the microphone loudly echoed her hand slap and carried the sound throughout the quiet room. Some of the citizens yelped out loud from the sudden sound.

Melum said with a firm tone and a loud voice into the microphone, scanning the crowd for a troublemaker also. "I don't know how to say this, so I will say it. There is a serial killer running around the city limits of Felton and Gardenville," she stood in place, watching the reactions, hearing the louder comments from numerous concerned citizens.

"How is this possible?"

"I'm scared."

"My children are unsafe."

"Who is the killer?"

"Go and get the killer right now!"

"Is the killer in my neighborhood?"

"What is the description of the killer?"

"Do something, police force! My life is in danger here!"

The room of people reacted quickly standing upright from a chair, tossing a fist into air or sitting down with worry as each citizen yelped with alarm or shouted loud out in fear.

The female mayor of Gardenville slammed a wooden gavel on top of the wooded table, shouting out loud. "Silence in here! Control your voice! Everyone must be quiet. There is more information to share. Please continue, Police Chief Melum!" She continued to wave the gavel in the air, for silence, from the audience members. The room of scared people slowly descended into a lower tone of voice and foot volume.

In front of the wooden podium, Melum continued to stand like a statue of granite and spoke with a firm tone into the microphone. "I feel your fear, concerned citizens. I have..."

"We have..." the mayor of Felton was a short, overweight male with a head of grayish black hair and a nice suntan, swiftly standing upright from the table, scooted around his metal folding chair and then stopped, standing beside Melum. He nodded in silence to the crowd of concerned and noisy citizens.

"We have also," the mayor of Gardenville was a tall, overweight female with a head of brown hair and pale skin, slowly standing upright from the table, scooted around her metal folding chair, and then stopped, standing on the opposite side of Melum. She almost hugged Melum and stared into the crowd of concerned citizens, waving the wooden gavel for silence.

"We have too." The police chief from the Gardenville police department was a short, slender male with a head of gray head and a gray beard, moving quickly from his chair, standing beside the mayor of Gardenville. All four public servants continued to stand almost hugging each other like a set of high school students.

Melum continued to stand and spoke with a firm tone into the microphone. "We have contacted the governor and requested additional support from the Alabama National Guard. A truck is coming here shortly, and each soldier will be placed inside each one of the quiet and peaceful neighborhoods. We take our protection status of each citizen very seriously here. Every police car from both Gardenville and Felton is out on patrol right now. If you see any suspicious activity or person, please call into the hot line telephone number or text the same telephone number or come by the police station at Gardenville or Felton. You are our first line of information. Right now, I do not have a physical description or visual sketch outline on the serial killer..."

"Then how are we supposed to know who the serial killer is?" One of the media reporters knelt in front of the row of wooden naked tables, waving his hand, yelling out loud at Melum.

Melum said with a stern face and a firm tone into the microphone. "I will repeat here. If you see any suspicious activity or person, please call the hot line telephone number 8886661313 or text the same telephone number of 8886661313 or come by the police station at either Gardenville or Felton."

One concerned citizen laughed out loud into the auditorium. "Isn't the math number sequence of six, six, and six in a single row, the sign of the Devil-man?" Some of the audience members nodded and then softly mumbled to each chair neighbor with worry.

At the podium, Melum continued to speak with a firm tone and a stern face. "You are the first line of information for the local police force. I would like to introduce my two police detectives that are working the crime scene as fast as they humanly can. Police detective Tarsal Tarragon represents the Felton police force. And police detective Pearlet Beauton represents the Gardenville police department. Please stand for a few second, Police Detectives Tarragon and Beauton. I want each concerned citizen to recognize your face and your duty in protection of your local community."

Tarsal wiped his dirty face then swiftly stood upright from the chair with a nod in silence towards the audience. Pearlet slowly stood upright from the metal chair with a stern face and stared at the active and loud audience members.

The crowd of concerned citizens shuffled side to side while moving around or fidgeting in place. Some persons clapped and hooted with cheers. Some persons left the auditorium in silence for a parked vehicle.

At the wooden podium, Melum continued to speak with a firm tone into the microphone through the rising noise level. "The police forces from both two cities are working night and day and together to solve this crime and find the mysterious serial killer." The set of flashes went off and blinded each pair of eyeballs on the panel row coming from each media photographer.

Tarsal and Pearlet sat back down in the chair. Tarsal started eating the plate of food and watched the crowd. Pearlet bit her lip from smiling at the fascinating new police news conference and watched the scary crowd like a set of mice inside a glass cage in silence.

In the front row, one of the nosy reporters with a head of brown hair, a tall body frame, and a tone of olive tinted skin held a portal microphone in black hue and waved her free hand, shouting out loud at Melum. Her words blasted throughout the room. "Police Chief Melum, have you questioned the community members? They might have seen a suspicious looking character person and then can describe the unknown serial killer to your police officer."

A second nosy reporter with a head of blonde hair, an average body frame, and a tone of pale skin, reached over and plucked the portal hand-held microphone from the first reporter, shoving the item into her parted lips, shouting to Melum. "Can describe the serial killer killing pattern to us? So, we know the serial killer killed, again, Police Chief Melum."

Melum exhaled with worry and spoke with a firm tone and a stern face into the mounted microphone on the podium. "The serial killer is a serial killer, because he or she is mentally sick and is killing numerous individuals, all at the same time."

The same nosy blonde-haired media reporter spoke into the microphone with a frown. "Can you tell us the time of day or night when the serial killer is doing his or her murderous kills? So, I know when to be afraid." Tarsal chuckled with the rest of the audience members from the clever reporter's statement.

In front of the podium, Melum exhaled with a stern face and spoke with a firm tone and a stern face into the mounted microphone. "No. I cannot describe the physical features of the unknown and mysterious serial killer. However, the killing pattern has been occurring between four pm and five pm in broad daylight at each home."

One of the concerned citizens with a head of brown hair, a tall body frame, and a tone of dark skin reached over and then snatched the portal microphone from the loose hand on the second television reporter, drawing piece the heavy piece of metal near her lips.

The blonde haired second reporter looked down and typed notes down into her personal mobile telephone, speaking out loud with a frown. "That's something which is better than nothing."

The same concerned citizen with a head of brown hair, a tall body frame, and a tone of dark skin continued to sit in the chair behind the second reporter and spoke into the hand-held microphone to Melum. "Do we need to keep our children and dogs safe inside the house during the daylight hours of four pm and five pm? Will that stop the serial killer from killing my family? I love my family."

In front of the wooden podium, Melum exhaled with annoyance and spoke with a firm tone and a stern face into the mounted microphone. "I will repeat this again. If you see a sight of strange behavior or an unknown stranger, call the 911 telephone number."

A third concerned citizen with a head of gray hair, pale skin tone, and short body frame sat beside the second citizen and reached over, grabbing the portal microphone, shouting out loud with a worried brow to Melum and tossed a free hand into the air "I don't own a mobile telephone. Can I use my landline to call the number 911?"

A fourth concerned citizen with tall body frame, pink skin tone, and red tinted hair in the front row and sat beside the third citizen on the front row, snatching away the portal microphone, shouting out loud with a laugh to Melum. "I don't get home until six pm at night. Does that mean that I won't feel the bloody knife of the unknown and mysterious serial killer in my back or on my neck?"

A fifth concerned citizen with short body frame, dark skin tone, and black colored hair in the front row stood upright from the chair, waving both of his arms in the air, shouting into the microphone at Melum. "If the serial killer is killing between four pm and five pm in broad daylight with the sun out, then each elementary, middle and high school should keep our precious children and teenagers there inside the classroom safe and sound, until five-thirty pm." Some of the audience members displayed nods and loud cheers. Some of the other audience members performed loud boos and hisses.

Melum shook her curls with a stern face. "No. The school facilities cannot handle that massive volume of children and teenagers until five pm every night. Every child and teenage must leave the school and go home to their biological parents and their delicious dinner table as planned at the end of the designated school session."

A sixth concerned citizen with an average body frame, a tone of pink skin, and a head of strawberry blonde hair stood upright from the chair and grabbed the portal microphone, shouting out to Melum. "Police Chief Melum, I have a very deep concern here. The annual musical concert is set for Monday afternoon and always is performed between the afternoon hours of two pm to five pm on the last day of the school session. However, you have mentioned that the serial killer kills his or her each poor victim during the same hours between four and five pm. So, should we cancel the annual event for fear of a surprise attack on the children? In case, the serial killer attends the annual event. Then he will have numerous victims inside an enclosed room for his vicious and vile killing enjoyment." The audience members softly mumbled with their sitting buddy.

A seventh concerned citizen with a tall body frame, a tone of weather skin, and a head of black hair whipped out his personal hand gun from his gray colored sports jacket, waving it in the air, laughing out loud to Melum. "I'm coming to the annual musical concert. I double dare that unknown serial killer to attack me and my family right here," he nodded and laughed with most of the audience members. One the police officers swiftly moved away from the solid wall then quickly scooted through the crowd, greeting the armed citizen, escorting him out from the auditorium building.

In front of the podium, Melum frowned. "No. We do not need to cancel any social or sports or gala event. The local police force will be present." The set of flashes went off and then blinded each pair of eyeballs that sat inside a metal chair behind the wooden naked tables coming from each media photographers.

On the end of the naked wooden tables, Tarsal blinked both of his eyelids several times, removing the white tinted starry field, scooting back the table and then slowly stood upright from the chair, wearing a stern face at the audience. He reached down then tapped on the collar bone on Pearlet. She swiftly stood upright from the chair and stared into the audience. He reached over and grabbed the naked hand of Pearlet, back stepping from the table then spun around, dragging her with him. They scooted down the narrow aisle that was even with the row of chairs and against the elevated stage platform and then turned and entered the side room with the row of food tables.

Inside the auditorium in front of the wooden platform, the four bodies continued to hug and stared into the audience. Melum spoke with a firm tone in the microphone. "Thanks to every citizen for your deep concern and caring security questions here at my first ever new police new conference! Now, the room is open for any and all questions for me..."

"Me, also," the police chief of Gardenville smiled for each camera flash.

"Me, too!" The mayor of Felton grinned for each camera flash.

"Me, three!" The mayor of Gardenville smiled for each camera flash too. Each media television, newspaper, and radio reporter swiftly stood upright from the floor and bounced up and down, tossing an arm in the air for the attention of Melum.

Melum pointed to the first reporter, "You there! What is your question?"

Inside the interior small enclosed side room, Tarsal released the hand on Pearlet then moved ahead towards the end row on the food tables, scooping up a lunch box from the free-standing table. She wore a smile and spun around heading back towards the exit door.

Pearlet followed the back spine on Tarsal and reached out, grabbing a white paper lunch box of food also. She had left the other lunch box inside the police station lounge room for another police officer to consume. She was too excited about the upcoming police news conference and the thrill of working for the Felton police department. At her home Gardenville office, she was the fourth police detective in a long line behind a set of seasoned and salty older police detectives, where she would be promoted in twenty years, when one of them finally died or retired, whichever came first. Working and sharing the police detective work with Tarsal, Pearlet could be promoted quickly into a new division or maybe she would become the new police chief of the Felton Police Department.

Melum was a mature and older female, who was married with a set of married children and a new grandmother, to boot. She had been a rookie police officer, before Pearlet was born in Gardenville. So, Melum was counting her short years as the active police chief, within the Felton Police Department. Then the position would open up for a fresh new smarter police chief of tiny town of Felton.

Tarsal moved ahead and opened the lunch box, tossing the trash down onto the floor, slapping his palm on the closed door. His city taxes paid the city employees to clean up the city's auditorium, so the employees could clean up his mess also. The door swung open.

At 12:12 pm, among the heated temperatures with bright sunshine, Tarsal exited the Gardenville auditorium and consumed the new sandwich, at the same time, moving ahead towards his parked pickup truck. He always ate during a crisis and this was a gigantic crisis that had activated his empty stomach and his set of hungry taste buds. He bit into the sandwich then chewed.

Pearlet followed Tarsal and exited the building, turning to scan the parking lot. Each parking space was filled. Numerous concerned citizens were huddled around the entrance doors. Some people were eating. Some people were talking with the police officers. Some of the people were walking to their individual vehicle. On the roadway, numerous parked vehicles stood in the grass also. She moved ahead with Tarsal and toted the lunch box, saying with a smile. "The news conference was exciting."

He swallowed the food and ate another bite, dropping food crumbs for the birds, "Yeah."

She looked down with a sour frown and stared at a food trail coming from Tarsal, who exhibited a set of bad boy social manners. "Does Police Chief Melum conduct all of her police new conferences here at the Gardenville auditorium?"

"No," he ate the sandwich.

She looked up and stared at the line of parked cars on the side street and set of moving citizens. "I don't recall seeing Police Chief Melum host a police department new conference before. Is this her first one?"

"No."

He quickly paced through the parking lot with Pearlet beside him, swiftly wolfing down the meaty sandwich and bag of salty potato chips, dumping the dirty trash on top of the parking lot gray tinted pavement. The wild animals enjoyed cleaning up the outdoors for the nasty citizens of Gardenville. He stopped then opened the unlocked door, wiping both of his dirty hands on top of his blue jeans, sliding inside the leather driver's seat. He slapped his cupped hand over the steering column, leaning down and started the cold engine.

On the other side of the truck, Pearlet juggled the two food items in one hand and one crooked elbow while opening the door, sliding up into his jacked-up truck, wiggling side to side over the smooth tan colored leather. She slammed the door shut and smiled down at her lunch, "I don't wanna get the interior of your truck dirty with my food meal."

He steered ahead then turned the truck to face Main Street within the Gardenville city limits while growling with a stern face. "Then don't eat your lunch meal in here."

She continued to sit in the passenger seat and stared out the clean windshield, gasping in shock, placing the closed lunch box in her lap, without eating the food. She slowly sipped and then swallowed on the cool beverage.

He gunned the gasoline pedal, when the roadway was clear, heading out onto the pavement as she slammed into the leather seat with a loud grunt. He swiftly raced the truck down the city street on Walker Chapel and watched for other on-coming vehicles.

She turned and cleared a throat, smiling at his nose profile. "Why didn't we talk during the news conference?"

"Don't know."

"Why didn't you tell Melum about Wallis Wollen? She needs to share that information with district attorney Dawner. He serves Gardenville district also."

"Don't think so."

She gasped, "Why not? I'm part of the detective Felton police team now."

"I know that. I respect that. Wallis Wollen is a weasel of a man. He has been for decades and decades and decades. He lives here and I live here. If we can't find that crowbar with the family's blood, then this murder charge is gone. I'm not mad at you, Pearlet. I'm frustrated with the dead chain of events that has passed me and headed straight down into hell."

She exhaled with worry, "Me, too!" She changed the depressing subject. Wallis Wollen might be the murderer which detailed numerous hours of police work to prove that act." Pearlet turned and smiled at his nose profile. "Have you lived here in Felton all of your live? I'm born and raised in Gardenville."

He continued to drive down the roadway with a stern face. "Yes."

"Why did you become a police officer?"

He continued to race down the city street like a professional race car driver while laughing out loud with a grin. "I wanted a work job, where I could do nothing all day and get paid."

She gasped in annoyance, "That's not a nice way to describe a police officer."

"I'm not talking about a police officer. I'm talking about a police chief. I joined the police force and enjoyed the scenarios of each lightweight crime scene around a small town. Nothing happens in a small town here in America. The big bad crime is located inside the big bad city of Birmingham. So, I fell in love with my police day and my police work and I have existed here, since my birth. And I do not plan to move anywhere else but here. And I plan to die here also. but I future plans include becoming the police chief of Felton, when Melum retires from her job."

She gasped. "Have you been asked to serve as the new police chief when Melum retires?"

"No."

She gasped then softly sneered. Her mental mind echoed his vocal words. She had learned to make a friend with her enemy, since the first grade, at six years old. She grinned at his nose profile. "We make a great team."

"I work alone."

"We could become a working team."

"I work alone." Tarsal continued to speed the truck down the same roadway then ran the red colored light at the street intersection, swiftly turning off the main highway, before causing a traffic accident. He was anxious to find that lost murder weapon and then find and arrest the known murderer. And he was also eager to rid his back spine of Pearlet Beauton. And he was worried for his friend and co-worker Zimb.

His new police partner Pearlet was a young and smart police detective, who had figured out that Wallis Wollen was a serial killer and a murderer of fifteen innocent people, including babies and a family pet dog.

His old friend and co-worker Zimb had taken the wrong police pathway, but he could return as a full-time police detective as long as Melum didn't hire Pearlet away from the Gardenville Police Department.

Inside the passenger seat, Pearlet continued to hold the boxed lunch without eating or spilling the food over the nice leather on the truck. She thought about Tarsal and hoped for more than a professional relationship with the nice-looking police detective. Some of the police officers fell in love and then married, starting a family. She could marry a man like Tarsal as they shared a family life here in the same community, where they both had been birthed then grew up. She smiled at his nose profile. "Do you have a girlfriend?"

He continued to speed down a side road and sneered at the clean windshield. "Do you have a girlfriend?" This was the reason that he liked to work his police job alone. A woman always was pondering marriage and babies. A man was concentrating on work and sports.

She laughed. "Do you date girls?"

"Do you date girls?"

She gasped. "You're funny."

"You're not."

She laughed. "I like your smart humor."

He slammed the brake pads and took the sharp turn on the city street to fast, squeaking all the tires, racing ahead to catch the new traffic light. "I dislike your snub nose." Tarsal ran the red light then turned onto Highway 31, racing down the roadway, wearing a stern face in silence.

Inside the passenger seat, her body slipped sideways from all of his wild driving techniques as and she gasped in shock and reached up, touching her nose. Her nose was an ugly eyesore and appeared smashed, like she had been in a fist fight. But her nose bridge came from her biological father and he was a special man in her life.

3001 Heaton Court murder house setting

Deceased Wollen family unit

12:18 pm

Hot temperatures with bright sunshine

Tarsal turned the truck onto the side roadway then slammed down on the brake pads at Heaton Court, parking at the end of the row of parked vehicles, killing the engine. He continued to sit with Pearlet inside the truck cab.

She continued to sit inside the cab and stared at the row of parked vehicles. "Why is there a line of construction dump trucks on the side of the road?"

He looked down and grabbed his hand gun, checking the magazine of bullets, which showed fully loaded and ready. He had never fired his weapon at a suspect or a criminal or another person. He had lived in a sweet town of 5,000 people and worked a paying job without death while enjoying each weekend in fun, where each citizen mowed their grassy lawn each weekend and then watched their television screen with the numerous entertainment news and programs at night, during the suppertime meal. However, he wanted his gun ready, in case, Wallis appeared and wanted to kill Tarsal for finding out the truth.

Tarsal replaced the gun behind his back spine and stared at the manicured grass through the clear windshield. "I ordered the row of ugly dump trucks to come here and park there, while keeping out nosy on-lookers and curious neighbors. And it worked. I don't see a stranger or a neighbor loitering around the crime scene either."

She exhaled with annoyance at the row of ugly big, dirty dump trucks. When she finally became the new police chief of Felton Police Department, she would run the police office differently and curtail police office Tarsal by marrying the smart and handsome male. She sneered at the first dump truck grill, "Because each citizen is located at the police news conference. The house is manned by one police car, without a police officer."

He nodded with a smile. "The stationary and parked police car is a clever decoy. The CSI team had stolen all the physical hard evidence that was carried out from each murder house and then they had placed it inside the Felton police vault for safety and safekeeping."

She turned and grinned at his nose profile. Tarsal had done a lousy job as the assigned police detective. He had left the fresh crime scene, before the CSI team unit finished the crime job. She smiled. "But it didn't include the bloody crowbar that Wallis Wollen had used to kill his brother and their family members." She vocalized the point for all eardrums, where she could voice her concern about Tarsal as the upcoming new police chief.

"Yeah, I found that a strange incident also. I had specifically told the CSI leader to grab and bag that crowbar."

She returned back and smiled at the murder house and then the manicured yard. "So, the crowbar is still here."

He exhaled with worry. "Or the crowbar has been melted down by Wallis Wollen and is gone foreverly. Now, the crime scene involves almost all of the manicured yard. So, you start walking straight down even with the edge on the yellow police tape. I'll start at the rear of the house on the patio and follow the faint tracks of four bloody dog paw prints. Then we will meet at the death spot for the poor dog. The crowbar murder weapon is there. We should find the lost and lazy crowbar that is covered in red blood. Wallis tossed the crowbar at the dog, but I was really watching Wallis. I didn't really notice the landing spot with the crowbar."

Pearlet scanned the manicured grass within the yellow police rope stage, "All right! I got it," she placed the lunch box on top of the seat and reached over, opening the door, sliding out from the seat. She kept the truck door open for an emergency or body protection as she had been taught a rookie police officer. She scooted around the open door and looked down at the manicured grass, slowly moving ahead, scanning each grass blade in silence.

Inside the truck cab, Tarsal reached over and opened the door, sliding down on top of the short grass, watching the back spine on Pearlet. He kept the door open for an emergency situation then swiftly scooted around the metal door, slowing moving ahead towards the opposite side of the crime scene, scanning the wide and long manicured lawn, which had been roped off with strings of the yellow tinted police tape, when his two eyeballs saw the smooth motion. He gasped in alarm then halted, facing the rear patio on the Wollen murder house, swiftly racing ahead towards the pink tinted bricks and shouted out loud, waving with both of his arms in the air at the new stranger. "Hey!"

An upright individual wore a yellow tinted suit then slowly spun around to face the loud commotion, wobbling side to side over the bricked surface, smiling inside a plastic face shield on a yellow tinted helmet, saying to the police detective, "Hi, Tarsal."

Tarsal slid over the manicured grass then swiftly halted in front of the bricked patio, standing in front of the familiar male while gasping in shock, "Zimb!"

"Yes," he slipped off his plastic helmet that was connected onto the CSI yellow tinted rubber suit and wore a smile. "What are you doing here?"

Tarsal faked a smile. "What are you doing here, Zimb? I'm the police detective here overlooking the murderous crime scene for a murderous clue to find the murderous murderer."

He gasped in alarm, "O yeah! Ugh! I'm double checking the crime scene for...for any missed clues. Do you need some more shared information from the Wollen house, Tarsal?"

Tarsal exhaled with worry. His friend Zimb had exhibited a cowardly attitude towards the CSI work yesterday afternoon here at the Wollen house. Maybe, Zimb had been sent out by Police Chief Melum to start again or complete his newly paid CSI job. Zimb was paid for his time as both a police detective and a CSI responder while working two jobs at once, taking home a great big paycheck.

Tarsal wasn't jealous but felt that a man or a woman should work for their pay. He faked a smile again to Zimb. "Not yet! I'm going to overlook the grass and grounds for more murderous clues."

He frowned. "Why would you do that? What's out there in the yard?"

"Well, that dog found something, before the dog was killed."

He frowned. "What dog?"

Tarsal gasped in shock at his friend Zimb. Zimb had not reviewed any of the official police reports about the Wollen murders. However, Zimb had been very unnerved and visually upset about the massive pond of blood inside the kitchen at the Wollen murder house. Tarsal nodded with a stern face, "The family pet had been killed by the brother. I thought maybe the dog found a new clue and then hid it like a dog does. Do you know that?"

He grinned. "I know a dog likes to dig in the yard and produces a hole and then hides its treasure."

Tarsal liked his friend, but he didn't trust his friend with the missing murder weapon, "Yeah, right! The dog might have found its treasure and then dug up a hole and placed it in the dirt."

He smiled. "I guess that could happen."

"Well, I'm hoping it did happen. Well, back to work for me. Later, Zimb!" He back stepped from Zimb then spun around from the patio, moving ahead through the grass that was outlined in the crime scene, slowly looking down and carefully scanned each blade of grass on top of the manicured lawn. He carefully followed beside a faint line of bloody dog paw prints that glowed on top of the green blades of grass. This bloody trail would lead directly to the bloody crowbar that contained the blood proteins of each dead Wollen family member.

On the opposite side of the marked off crime scene, within the confide of the yellow police tape Pearlet moved in a straight line and looked down, carefully scanning the manicured lawn then stopped with a gasp. She stood in front of a pod of destroyed flowers. She squatted down and examined the smashed flowers, recognizing the chunks of red blood proteins, shouting out loud. "Tarsal!"

On the other side, within the yellow police tape, Tarsal followed the faint trail of bloody paw prints then halted with a gasp, slowly back stepping from a stream of stiff semi-circular dried blood. "This is where the body of the dog had died."

"Tarsal!"

He looked up with a smile, raced ahead toward Pearlet, then stopped, standing over her strawberry-blonde tinted hair roots. "Did you find the bloody crowbar?"

She pointed down at a dead flower bed that was covered in dried red blood and the flattened pretty flower colors. "Is this the place where the blown off dog skull rested?"

He stared down with a sour frown at the ruined pod of colorful flowers among a dried puddle of dark dog blood, "Yeah! Did you find the crowbar?"

She stood upright from the grass and wiped off the blades from her dark blue business skirt. "No! Did you find the crowbar over there?"

He exhaled. "No! Wallis had time to find and steal it back. Well, it is over now."

She shook her curls with a sour frown at his blonde hair roots. "No, it is not over now. We have a search warrant and can search his residential house again for the weapon right now. If he hid the weapon in there, then we will find it."

"Wallis is not that dumb."

She nodded. "I agree that Wallis is not that dumb to hide the murder weapon inside his personal house, since we have a search warrant, that is still good until four pm today. However, Wallis might just hide his murder weapon out of eyesight and inside his brother's house."

"What?"

She pointed at the other house with a smile. "His brother's house had been searched and tagged and bagged and labeled and toted out with all the hard-physical evidence. Maybe, this morning, Wallis came back here and grabbed the crowbar. He could hide it inside his brother's house. He can't really go someplace, and have it melted down into a bar of metal or tossed into the trash can here at his home or near a business. Someone would report him. Once we tell Melum about his array of personal land holdings, which is associated with each murdered family unit, he will become the prime crime suspect again. Right now, only we know that unshared information and we could search the brother's house again, finding the hidden crowbar, before the news conference ends this afternoon. I saw each face on every citizen. Each face is worried and scared, like me, if I didn't own and know how to shoot a gun for my personal body protection. That's why I became a police officer to protect myself rather than relying on a man," she viewed the patio surface and frowned at the yellow tinted CSI suit on the unknown male. "What is that yellow tinted CSI man doing over there in front of the crime scene?"

Tarsal spun around with a frown. Zimb was still standing in front the open archway in his yellow rubber suit and appeared to hesitate again before entering inside the bloody kitchen, the crime scene, where a CSI responder worked during the day or the night. Tarsal frowned at the back spine on Zimb. "Zimb, he works with me on each crime scene job and for the Felton police department."

She frowned at the back spine on Zimb. "Does your co-worker and CSI responder Zimb know that he needs a search warrant to enter into that house? The current search warrant expires at four pm today. A search warrant is only good for twenty-four hours of signature, by the judge. It's almost two pm now."

He spun around from Zimb and faked a smile to Pearlet, "Yes, Zimb does. And we need to go and search that house, before our search warrant expires too. Or we lose our opportunity to find the murder weapon. I don't think Wallis is at home, so he can't spy on us. I think your detective thinking. Let's go and look around the house, very quickly. If we rush our investigation, then we could bag our known serial killer this afternoon, before the news conference ends inside the Gardenville auditorium. Melum would become the Felton city heroine and then retire from her old police job. She's a grandmother and wants to see her grandchild more often. Then I would be named the new police chief, within the Felton Police Department, from my savvy police detective skills and my clever police smart brain at the young age of thirty-one years old. Yes, this is my life's dream and my easy work job until I retire at the age of sixty years old. Nothing happens in a small town." Tarsal spun around with a chuckle from Pearlet then swiftly raced ahead with a smile, moving ahead towards the row of exterior patio doors on the murder house. He didn't want to enter through the actual crime scene, a bloody dried kitchen floor. If he didn't find the hidden crowbar inside the other clean parts of the murder house, then he would swiftly drive back to the police station, without his assigned partner Pearlet, visit with Police Chief Melum, and then show her the new computer evidence coming from the PISS mainframe.

The Birmingham CSI crime scene unit would return here in the tiny town of Felton and tear the murder house apart along with unsearched personal residence of Wallis Wollen while searching for that bloody crowbar. Then Wallis Wollen would be announced as the murderous serial killer and Tarsal would be proclaimed as the new police chief.

On top of the manicured law, Pearlet continued to stand and watched with a stern face the back spine on Tarsal. She gasped in shock at his arrogant and outrageous verbal proclamation and as her mind agreed with his vocal words.

Tarsal was a smart, handsome, native son of Felton. He was born and reared here. And he had accidently fell into his job as a lazy police detective and then had been carelessly assigned to this murder case. Felton had two employed police detectives, who were buddies and friends, where one was an active CSI responder, who could not work both work jobs.

On top of the patio brick, Tarsal slid across the patio, without bothering Zimb.

Zimb continued to stand on top of the brick surface, like an ugly gigantic birdbath statue and stared into the bloody kitchen setting, the crime scene. This was his new job and he wasn't doing a good job. He was thinking of turning in his CSI gear, taking back his old police detective job. The sight of blood and guts didn't usually make him queasy with mouth salvia or green vomit, but this new and fresh crime scene was upsetting and disturbing within his eyeballs, his mind, and his stomach muscles. His eyeballs stared at an ocean of dried blood on the floor, each wall, every window, each appliance even the high ceiling planks, without the mutated body parts present. His stomach flipped then flopped sideways rotating its bitter bile upwards, reaching into his tight throat.

Tarsal turned then frowned at the stationary back spine at yellow rubber CSI suit on Zimb while pondering the same old mental issue. Zimb was afraid after seeing the pond of wet blood yesterday and the ocean of dried blood now. A CSI responder had to possess an iron stomach and a pair of blind eyeballs viewing scattered blood proteins and human guts from each dead person, at a crime scene. Tarsal slammed into the glass patio door with a loud grunt and then back stepped with chuckle of amusement, turning to see the smeared glass from his lip salvia, reaching down, jerking the twin door knobs towards his chest with a loud grunt. The doors were locked. He released the door knobs then scooted across the glass patio window and stopped, standing at the second patio door, finding the same condition, which was locked. He had not anticipated each locked exterior door. However, Wallis probably had locked the door before leaving and keeping out the police officers on this side.

No, that was not correct. The Birmingham CSI team unit had been working inside the house while tagging and taking any and all murder clues from the unknown murderer and then they had locked each door, after their crime work per police procedure.

Tarsal back stepped from the patio glass window onto the manicured lawn, within the yellow tinted police tape again, with a deep sigh then turned, jogging away from the patio and his friend Zimb. He scooted around the front porch on the murder house. He would enter through the front door then slowly search for the lost crowbar throughout the interior of the murder house.

On top of the manicured grass, without moving ahead towards the murder house, Pearlet whispered for her eardrums only and stared at the back spine on Tarsal, saying with a lady sneer. "No. You will not become the new police chief here in the tiny town of Felton, Tarsal Tarragon. I am just as qualified for that upcoming new open police chief position also. Police Chief Melum had shuffled me into her private office and then she had secretly told me that she was going to hire me onto her police team, right after the murder case was solved. And she told me to watch you, Tarsal. You're a pretty good police detective but not great. She needs a great police detective to break apart and torn open this delicate and sensitive and highly public murder case of three murdered family units, which would make Melum the local heroine too. Tarsal is correct. Melum had dreams of instant fame and people popularity. She could write a police book about the famous murderous crimes and become a money millionaire while setting up her person and all of her loving family members with money wealth and possessions for the rest of their living days. Melum might become a Hollywood movie starlet too and star in her own movie that would be produced from her popular and money-making police novel. Melum told me also. She would recommend the promotion of me over a lazy native boy Tarsal. The city of Felton had installed a female police chief in the chair for decades and decades that ran the Felton police office and force. If I worked hard and found the serial killer, even with Tarsal, and I knew who the person was also, then she could whisper my accolades into each eardrum onto the Felton Chamber of Commerce that selected the police chief. Melum told me. I could easily become the new female police chief with my capture of an infamous serial killer and I'm a local girl from Gardenville and I rule and drool over a lazy Tarsal. Yes, I will have a great police career future in Felton, instead of you, Tarsal."

Pearlet dashed away from the smashed flower bed with a smile and shouted out loud for her eardrums only as Tarsal was out of eyeball sight. "I'll start with the set of three external car garage buildings, which is attached to the side of the house, Tarsal." She veered towards the side lawn and stared at the three-car garage structure, visual inspecting the outer building first. She stopped then stood in front of the first car garage, reaching down, lifting up the exterior door handle. The garage door didn't move. The garage mechanism was electronic, which kept the door closed, without the remote-control operating devise that was usually located inside a personal vehicle. She scooted across the other two garage doors and checked each exterior door handle finding them locked also. She slowly moved around the side wall and discovered a closed entrance door, opening the side door with a smile and entered into the dark space. The room continued cool air temperatures, where the thick concrete block and the tin rooftop absorbed all the heated sunshine rays. She slid sideways along the side wall without tripping over any object in the dark and reached out, touching the rough concrete wall, finding the light switch. She twisted her wrist bone.

At 12:22 pm, inside the garage setting, the overhead single lamp illuminated into bright light and displayed two parked cars. She dashed ahead with a smile and scooted around the front bumper on each vehicle. "I'll be first inside the house. Where would the crowbar hide? In an obvious, but safe place, the laundry basket is a good hiding spot. I wonder if Wallis washed the dried blood off the crowbar, but that didn't matter to a black light devise that hunts down blood proteins," she stopped with a giggle then stood in front the opposite wall with a side green tinted metal door that led into a mud room, not the kitchen setting. She reached out and twisted the door knob, frowning with annoyance, "Locked! The CSI team leader must lockup each door and window tight, after the search and before leaving the crime scene. I forgot about that. The only entrance point into the murder house is through the bloody kitchen. Excuse the pun! I don't wanna go that way. But if I must, then I must." She leaned into the glass window and stared into the mud room setting, not seeing Tarsal. She closed her eyelashes and did not hear any of his individual footfalls inside the house either. So, Tarsal had been locked outside the house also. Pearlet was a young police detective but the lazy and more experience police detective Tarsal should have remembered that police procedure fact.

She back stepped from the locked garage door then spun around with softly laughter, jogging ahead towards the open door, avoiding the chrome bumper on each car. She exited the garage space then turned to face the manicured lawn, dashing around the wall corner and halted, scanning the outside door setting, whispering for her eardrums only. "Tarsal is not here. O no! He found another open doorway access point on the opposite side of the murder house. He is inside the murder house, without me," she raced ahead and moved around the opposite side on the murder house, passing the garage building, turning the next building corner in a set of panted breaths and then collided into the hard body of muscles. They twirled around in a couple of completed circles over the manicured lawn. She sneered into his face. "The house is locked."

He halted their dance circle then frowned into her face. "The house is locked. We have to go and tell Melum."

She pulled backwards from his hug then spun around from Tarsal, wearing a stern face, jogging through the grass and moved back towards the rear patio. "No. We can go through the kitchen entrance."

He dashed ahead then jogged beside her, wearing a worried brow. "No."

"Yes."

"No."

She continued to jog ahead then turned the building corner. "Yes, we're the two assigned police detectives on this murder case and we can walk through the bloody kitchen entrance. Excuse the pun!" She laughed from her sick personal humor.

He gasped out loud in worry. "I don't wanna do that. We can go and get the front door key at the Felton police station."

She turned the new building corner then jogged beside the garage structure, seeing the patio surface and the back spine on Zima, wearing a puzzled brow. "Does Zimb possess a key to the front door?"

He exhaled with nervousness as he didn't want to betray his friend and the lack of confidence in Police Chief Melum with Zimb in front of the young and smart police detective. He continued to jog with her and frowned with concern. "Yes. No. I don't think so. He is supposed..."

"What is Zimb doing back here at the crime scene?" She pointed at the kitchen archway then slapped her hand down onto her leg. "The Birmingham CSI team had finished gathering all their evidence here last night. I read the information from the Birmingham CSI report last night on my mobile telephone. And they are still testing all of the gathered evidence inside the Birmingham crime lab, today."

Tarsal gasped in worry for his friend and stated with a smile, "I mean. Zimb is still searching and seeking for something."

Pearlet knew the secret something in which Melum had secretly whispered into the eardrum on Pearlet. Zimb had become scared of his new CSI bloody job and he was going to be fired by Melum, after this murder case had been solved. So, new hire Pearlet could replace the incompetent police detective.

On top of the manicured grass, at the murder house, Pearlet continued to jog ahead with a smile and moved towards the corner on the house. "That doesn't make any sense to me. But I'm not a CSI responder. So, we go through the kitchen floor and then inspect the rest of the clean parts of the house." Tarsal swiftly dashed ahead in silence and left Pearlet behind, racing faster towards the patio surface and the yellow tinted back spine on Zimb.

At 12:33 pm, among the heated temperatures with bright sunshine, on top of the pink tinted brick patio surface, Tarsal reached his co-worker first and feared with worry. He wiped off his sweaty brow then stopped, standing with a stern face beside the blocked nose profile on Zimb, reaching out, touching the arm on Zimb.

Zimb quickly wobbled side to side in fright then swiftly back stepped from the open archway inside the bloody kitchen doorway, losing his upright balance, waving both of his arms in the air. He shouted out loud in fright inside the enclosed plastic helmet. Tarsal gasped in alarm and swiftly reached out, grabbing one of the wavering yellow tinted arms on Zimb, swiftly pulling his friend upright while exhaling with a loud grunt.

Zimb stood upright on top of the level brick with a worried brow and then swung around shouting in anger through his plastic face shield at Tarsal. "You scared me, in death. I can't hear or see you with my helmet on."

Tarsal didn't hear the words coming from the enclosed helmet around the angry face on Zimb but guessed the right answer, waving both of his arms near his frown. "Take it off!" Zimb reached up then removed the helmet, wearing a sweat face and a sour frown in silence. Tarsal pointed through the archway and stared at Zimb. "Zimb, this is Pearlet and she comes from the Gardenville police department..."

"But..." She gasped in alarm.

Tarsal nodded to Zimb. "Look! We need a couple of CSI rubber shoes. We need to perform our own police detective walk-through the kitchen floor and then inspect the other parts of the clean house."

Zimb smiled. "The CSI team did that last night."

Tarsal turned with a stern face and stared into the bloody kitchen floor while picking out a safe walking path for him and Pearlet. He was not allowed to trace blood proteins through the clean part of the house, which could create both trouble and angry from Melum. "The CSI team collected all the hard evidence and stuff. Yeah, they did. But..."

"I am the assigned police detective here," Pearlet slapped her chest with a sour frown. "I must go inside and examine the clean parts in the house. Where is the front door key?"

Zimb turned then frowned at Pearlet. "I don't have one."

Tarsal stared at the bloody dried kitchen floor. "Where is a pair of clean or dirty CSI rubber shoes?"

Zimb returned back and frowned at Tarsal. "I don't have them."

He continued to stare at the bloody kitchen floor. "Where is a pair of clean or dirty CSI rubber trousers?"

Zimb frowned. "I don't have them."

She frowned at Zimb, "Why not?"

Zimb returned and frowned at Pearlet. "I don't have another clean CSI rubber body gear with me. I'm here all alone and brought only my personal car and this CSI rubber suit that I need for my paying job. The CSI van is stored at the police station. What is inside the house?"

Pearlet sneered at the rear skull on Tarsal. "This is nonsense here. We need to go inside this murder house right now." She stared at the other residential home. Wallis was not present at his personal home. She was worried that Wallis might return to his personal home and then spy on her new clever plot while she tried to find the blood-covered crowbar.

Tarsal continued to stare into the bloody kitchen floor. "So, we drive back to the police station and bring back the CSI van here."

Zimb frowned. "You can't do that, Tarsal."

He frowned at Zimb. "What? Why not?"

Zimb slapped his chest with a smile and a nod. "I am the only CSI man and only the CSI man can drive the CSI crime van."

He nodded with a smile. "Then you can come with us and drive the CSI van back here with the CSI gear, Zimb."

Zimb gaped. "No. I must stay here and complete my..."

"Ugh!" Pearlet spun around from the kitchen door with a loud grunt, moving away from both Tarsal and Zimb, sounding with a loud huff of annoyance. She was working with a couple of idiots.

If murder suspect Wallis came back to his personal residential home, then he would figure out her spying plot with the hidden bloody crowbar, which was located somewhere inside the murder house. Then, in the dead of the night, murder suspect Wallis would sneak back into his rental house with his personal house key, remove the bloody crowbar, and hide it forever from the police force while escaping the death chamber in the capital city of Montgomery.

Zimb was another idiot and didn't see anything but the scary ocean of dried blood inside the kitchen floor.

This was her only chance to find the murder weapon and then capture the murderer, all at the same time. If she left the crime scene right now, Pearlet would have not have time to finish the legal search inside the murder house as the current search warrant expired at five o'clock today, in less than fifty minutes. Then Pearlet would have to explain to Melum why she needed a new search warrant which would be granted but too late. Murder suspect Wallis would come back into his rental house and grab the crowbar, hiding it someplace else away from the police.

Then Pearlet would look both foolish and incompetent to Felton Police Chief Melum, who had promised to hire Pearlet after solving this mysterious triple murder case.

Currently, on top of the manicured grass, Pearlet continued to dash ahead towards the garage building.

On top of the patio, in front of Zimb, Tarsal spun around from the kitchen door with a gasp and then dashed ahead, yelling out loud, running off the patio into the grass. "Where...where are you going, Pearlet?"

She continued to dash ahead and yelled back to Tarsal. "Back into the garage building, the side door is open."

He raced ahead then pulled up beside her body, frowning at her nose profile. "What are you doing over here? We need to leave for the police station and steal one of the rubber suits from the CSI van or the front door key. We can wear them and scout around the clean part of the room faster. We are not supposed to spread around the bloody germs over the clean floor," Tarsal laughed.

She shouted, "No! We go through the open and unlocked exterior garage side door and then enter into the house. We're wasting precious time here. The current search warrant expires in less than one hour."

He said. "I know that."

"We stood in front of the second garage side door and then pick the door lock, entering the house."

He gasped. "We can't do that. I mean. We aren't supposed to do that. I mean. How do we explain picking a lock that was locked? O! The CSI team left the door unlocked."

She frowned. "No. I leave the CSI man and the Birmingham CSI team out of this and our vocal explanation and our written police report. The garage door knob was loose. When I came back here to the murder house and then I touched it, it wiggled off the door frame. Then the door slid open. I went inside with our current search warrant and found the murder weapon. Then there will be a happy ending for everyone, but Wallis Wollen," she raced ahead and performed an evil laugh.

At 12:39 pm, in front of the garage building structure location, among the hot temperatures and bright sunlight, on top of the smooth vanilla colored concrete sidewalk, Pearlet slowed her pace and moved ahead towards the closed side garage door, opening the door, racing ahead towards the second garage door that led into the interior of the murder house. Tarsal followed the back spine on Pearlet in silence and entered through the open archway, surveying the garage property.

In front of the second garage door with a glass window, she reached up and wiggled the door knob. "To save us time, where do you think the crowbar is hidden?"

"It is located in an obvious spot like the laundry basket of dirty clothes." Tarsal stopped with a stern face and stood next to her, leaning over, looking through the clean glass window.

"Then, why didn't the CSI team members catch and then captured the murder weapon before us?"

"They only concentrated on that bloody kitchen which took hours and hours to finish."

"Yeah, you're right. Maybe, the hidden murderous crowbar is inside the child's toy chest instead." She released the door knob with one hand and extended that open palm to Tarsal. "Where is your southern beau switch blade?"

He looked down with a confused brow at her open palm. "Where is your southern belle pen knife?"

She still rattled the door knob with one hand and a sour frown. "My southern belle pen knife is inside my girly purse on top of my ancient wooden office desk at the Gardenville police station. When I came over this morning at eight o'clock to the Felton police station, I really didn't believe that Police Chief Melum would see or hear me and my new death theory. I thought all rednecks carried around a switchblade for swift redneck action."

He frowned at the glass window on the door. "All rednecks do. But I'm not a redneck."

"All right! We use a flat head screwdriver. You possess a tool chest on the rear bed of your truck. Go and get us a flat head screwdriver right now! The clock and the sun are both heading due south. We're wasting out precious tick-time time."

He back stepped with a sour frown and spun around, dashing ahead, surveying the interior walls inside the garage setting and then halted with a smile. "Wait!"

She back stepped from the second garage door and yelled at his back spine. "We don't have time to wait or go to back the police station. We have less than fifty minutes before the search warrant expires," Pearlet spun around with a gasp of annoyance at Tarsal.

He turned away from the open archway with a smile and swiftly moved ahead, pointing at the solid wall. "There's a small tool chest on the floor in front of the forward wall of solid vanilla concrete. Why doesn't an owner paint the interior of their garage building? This place could be a cheery pale blue or mint green and look really beautiful. Every tool chest has a screwdriver and a hammer. That's a set pair of requirement tools for every 7th Grade boy in his academic woodwork class." He stopped with a laugh and squatted down, lifting the small lid, quickly searching the assortment of tools.

She jogged ahead and then stopped, squatting beside him, reaching down into the open chest and snatched up the screwdriver from the open compartment. She held it near her smile. "Here! I got a flat head screwdriver to pick the locked door on the second exterior garage door."

He continued to search each compartment. "No. The flat dull blade is too wide. If you break the lock on the garage door knob, then you'll be arrested by me for illegally breaking and entering. A tool set has a variety of screwdriver sizes. There is one that is very small with a tiny flat blade. We need that one to pick the tiny lock without breaking the mechanism," he reached down and grabbed, lifting the first tray up in the air, gasping in alarm, staring at the bottom on small tool chest

She gasped in shock and stared down at the bottom on the same tool chest. "No. No. No. It can't be this easy."

He smiled. "Yes. Yes. Yes. It is this easy. We found the bloody crowbar."

She smiled. "We found the bloody crowbar. Why is the crowbar here hiding inside the tool chest?"

"We found the bloody crowbar," he continued to hold the first tool tray and then reached inside, wiggling his finger down towards at the crowbar.

She reached over and slapped his free hand away from the crowbar with a puzzled brow, staring down at the crowbar. "No! Wait! Why is the crowbar located inside a plastic bag inside the bottom on this tool chest?"

He gently placed the first tray on top of the concrete floor and continued to stare with a smile down at the bloody crowbar. "It lives here."

She frowned at the crowbar. "No. Why is a tool from a tool chest inside a plastic bag? Why is the plastic bag with a tool located here inside the tool chest?"

He exhaled with annoyance. "The crowbar was covered in real wet sticky blood. Wallis didn't want the real wet sticky blood to bleed over the other nice and clean metal tools. Blood sticks to everything including metal and body and glass and carpet and wood. Else, he would have to hide all the other tools also. He would not have tons of more time to hide away each blood covered new manly tool."

She frowned. "That doesn't make any sense, to me, Tarsal. Why is the bloody crowbar inside a plastic bag? Why is the plastic bag located here at the bottom of the tool chest in plain sight of my naked eyeballs? Why didn't one of the Birmingham CSI team members find and pick up the plastic bag with the bloody crowbar here inside the tool chest during their first CSI work? They are very good and never miss a piece of hard evidence. They possessed a search warrant and usually carted off everything out from the murder house, carrying every item back to their Birmingham crime laboratory for the legal analysis."

He snapped his fingers with a smile. "I know the answer. I told the CSI team leader to pick up the crowbar from the nicely trimmed yard. However, the CSI team member did not. Then Wallis came back home this morning after his non-bail release and placed the crowbar here inside the tool chest in his personal rental house. So, he thinks that house and the crowbar is his to own and abuse."

She frowned. "That's my point! I realize that the CSI team leader messed up and missed it. But why did murder suspect Wallis bury the bloody crowbar down here inside the tool chest? We can get a second search warrant and search the murder house numerous times until the day of his murderous court trial. We could have found the crowbar later today also. So, why is a blood-covered crowbar in plain sight and not hidden underneath the concrete floor from us, the police?"

Tarsal exhaled with confusion and then slowly stood upright from the floor, spinning around with a stern face and moved ahead towards the grill on the parked red colored sedan.

She turned a frowned face to see his back spine. "What are you doing?"

He swung back around from the grill on the parked sedan and slowly moved ahead towards the chest tool, stopping and stared down at the plastic bag with the bloody crowbar. He smiled and snapped his fingers. "I know the answer again. When my dad works with his tools, he always separates the dirty covered tools from the clean tools. So, he can wash and clean the dirty tools later. Now, as I approach the open tool chest, I see a tool in red paint, not red blood. That's why Wallis left the bloody crowbar in plain sight for the police to see and the exposed the red stained crowbar inside a clear seeing plastic bag. My dad uses a clear plastic bag all the time to keep the smelly oils on his dirty tools off and away from his clean tools. Wallis had employed the same simple and plain obvious concept. If one of the CSI team members had been a male, who used tools all the time to fix a car or the grass mower or repair the house plank, then he would have seen red paint on the work tool, not a blood smear on the work tool."

She turned and smiled down at the plastic bag with the blood-covered crowbar. "I buy that. Will a jury of twelve persons and three alternatives buy that same bloody concept at Wallis' murder trial? Excuse the pun!"

He reached down and grabbed the plastic bag, standing upright with a smile, carefully holding it in the air. "Don't matter! We found the blood-covered murder weapon that was used by murderer Wallis Wollen. Zimb is the CSI man right here, right now. Zimb can run a simple DNA blood test and verify the blood smear on the metal of the crowbar announcing the bloody results. Then, we can find and arrest murderer Wallis Wollen immediately, carting him off to the Felton jail cell for a second time."

She stood upright with a smile. "Can Zimb...?"

"Yes, he can," he spun around with a worried brow and dashed ahead, slowly strolling towards the open archway in the garage, holding the plastic bag with the bloody crowbar.

She spun around with a smile and dashed ahead towards the open archway, leading Tarsal, waving both of her arms in the air. "Come on! Get moving! We gotta go and get Zimb to blood test the red stain on the crowbar. If it is real blood, then we really will go and arrest Wallis here on the spot and drag his butthole back into the police station, tossing him back into his same jail cell. Melum will be a hero and we will become famous," Pearlet exited the garage and raced across the manicured grass with a smile.

At 12:45 pm, Tarsal swiftly followed behind her then exited the garage door with a smile. "Melum becomes famous too. Then I will become the next police chief of Felton."

She heard his vocal words then softly sneered for her eardrums only while racing ahead towards the patio brick surface. "No. I will become the next police chief of Felton."

He ran ahead faster and then passed Pearlet, holding the plastic bag in the air, shouting out loud with excitement. He believed that red blood covered the crowbar. But believing a thing was not the same method as confirming the thing. He stomped on top of the pink tinted brick surface, "Zimb! Zimb! You can save the day, buddy. I found the murder weapon," Tarsal stopped and stood a few feet from the back spine on Zimb, who stood inside the open archway again without entering inside the dried bloody kitchen.

Pearlet stopped with a sour frown and stood beside the nose profile on Tarsal. "We found the murder weapon." She was not letting Tarsal take her credit away or her new promotion either.

Zimb spun around from the open archway and smiled through the helmet directly at the plastic bag with the bloody crowbar, slowly removing the plastic helmet and shouted out loud with a nod, where no one could hear his vocal words but read his happy face, "Wow! Geez! Great! You found the murder weapon. So, you were right. Wallis Wollen is the triple murderer of all the murdered family units."

Tarsal continued to stand and pointed at the crowbar inside the plastic bag with a stern face and then looked down at the CSI bag on the top of the brick patio. "You need to test the red stuff. I think it is real blood. I think the dried blood comes from each one of the dead Wollen family members. If so, I have found the serial killer, then I have solved the murder case and caught our mysterious man."

Pearlet crossed her arms with a sour frown. "We have found the serial killer. I'm standing right here and hearing every word of your wrong sentences, Tart-boy."

Zimb slowly waddled ahead from the open archway and reached out for the weapon appearing like an outer space man in yellow hue, feeling relief and excitement. The mysterious triplet murder case had been solved by his friend and co-worker Tarsal. Now, Zimb could quit his nasty CSI job and return back to his old job as a police detective.

His commanding supervisor Police Chief Melum had been softly talking about retiring her job, if the opportunity presented itself. It was obvious that she needed a replacement and Tarsal could easily bill and then fill that hot spot. Tarsal was a smart and respected police detective among the police department. The Felton police force consisted of a group of young and inexperienced police officers. Tarsal was the most experienced police officer in the police building.

Zimb wiggled both of the rubber hands on the suit at the plastic bag, "Yeah! Wow! Yeah! All right! I got my blood test chemicals right here with me," he wobbled ahead in great speed and then tripped his yellow boot over the grounded yellow tinted CSI bag of gear, flying forward towards the exterior wall, yelling out loud in fear.

Tarsal swiftly slid away from Zimb and cradled the murder weapon, protecting the crowbar and his body. "Be careful, Zimb!"

Zimb slammed into the patio door and imprinted a set of faint yellow tinted streaks on the glass coming from the rubber suit, back stepping with a laugh. He tossed both hands in the air with a laugh. "I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm okay," he slowly spun around with a flushed face with both of his arms in the air and moved ahead with a smile, squatting down, removing each individual hand glove on the CSI rubber suit. One hand touched the CSI bag of gear. The other hand reached up and wiggled a set of finger pads at Tarsal, "Gimme! I'll take it and test on...on the patio brick. I have a special CSI floor mat to test the chemicals without ruining the brick," he slowly jerked a white tinted rubber floor mat from the CSI bah.

Tarsal handed the plastic bag with the bloody crowbar down into the wiggling hand on Zimb. "All right! Here comes the plastic..."

"Get it!" Zimb touched the plastic bag and then jerked the object from the hand on Tarsal, slamming the object on top of the rubber floor mat with a laugh.

"Be careful, Zimb! The blood is dried and twinkled in drifting flakes. Each flake particle might fall off and then blow away from the metal crowbar. We need all the evidence for the conviction of Wallis Wollen," Tarsal frowned down at the injured plastic bag, seeing some of the dried blood flakes. Each one gently fell off and then landed down inside the bottom of the plastic bag.

Zimb slowly removed each item out from his CSI bag and examined the item. "No. This is not my blood tester gear. Yeah, I got this. I received the letter grade of B in my blood pattern's class."

Pearlet frowned down at the black tinted hair roots on Zimb. "Do you really know what you are doing? Maybe, we should call in the..."

"Yeah!" Tarsal reached over and shoved Pearlet away from Zimb and off the patio brick, sneering into her cheekbone. "Yes, he does."

She cuddled with him and sneered back with worry. "Are you certain, Tarsal? I only get one solo chance at this with that crowbar and that CSI man to get hired permanently here at the Felton police department."

He continued to hug her with a chuckle and moved ahead towards his pickup truck, slowly strolling several feet away from the pink tinted patio while giving Zimb peace of mind and some breathing room to perform his CSI job on the blood smear that was coated over the crowbar. He turned and smiled into her nose profile. "Yes, I trust my CSI man and I am sure he knows what to do. We need to let him work in peace while testing the dried red tinted blood proteins on the silver tinted crowbar. We also need to inform Melum that we found the murder weapon. She can send out a squad car here and wait on the results of the blood test and then arrest Wallis..."

"Wait!" She halted in the middle of the manicured yard that was surrounded by the yellow tinted police tape and then collided into his body with a gasp, turning to face his sour breath. "Wait! We must connect murderer Wallis Wollen with all three murdered family units."

He nodded with a grin. "I did."

She back stepped from his body then sneered at his smile. "I did not. I might have connected Wallis to one or a single or a solo murdered family unit. That is one of three triple crimes. There are two more murders which are unsolved right now."

He exhaled. "Yeah, the other blood types on the crowbar have been washed off. A black light can see any traces of any type of blood. Then Zimb can extract and test these blood flakes all over the metal on the crowbar too which will show the blood proteins on the other two murdered families. Even if the crowbar was only used on one family member, this ties murderer Wallis to each death act."

She frowned. "How do you tie murderer Wallis Wollen with the two other murdered family units, sir? The two other family houses are located in two separate and different geographical locations, not right beside the murder house that Wallis really rents and then owns."

He closed his eyelashes and looked up, feeling the hot sunshine on his face, sweating in the heat. "Hmm! Let me think here!" He returned with a smile and opened his eyelids at her. "Wallis had two accomplices that conducted the two other murdered family units at little later within the single hour. It is humanly impossible to kill that many people in fifty-five minutes, except for any evil superman like...like an evil superman. So, we first bag and gag Wallis with his family murders. Then Wallis will spill out all the gourmet coffee beans and confess to us who his two other buddies are. That's brilliant."

"That's not brilliant. He didn't have a helper. He did this to each murdered family unit. And I am going to prove it, babe." She laughed with an evil tone. She was the brains here and she would become the new police chief of Felton with her smarts over a slow-thinking Tarsal. She reached down and whipped out her mobile telephone, typing on the tiny keyboard, viewing the screen.

He scooted around her and stopped stared at the lush back yard with a smile, facing the woods. "Now, I am facing the..." he spun around to face the opposite side of the yard. "Now, I am facing south and seeing the perpendicular roadway which is named Heaton Court. The façade of each house faces in a southern direction. The southern direction doesn't show me anything but more of Felton including the highway, the streets, the rows of houses, and some businesses. Then the city limits of Felton end within two miles from here. Now, I spin around to see the rear yards on both houses, facing north. The northern direction fills my eyeballs with woods and woods and more woods. I think that is only woods there. But I know beyond the green bushes and the brown tall trees, the woodland setting leads directly towards the city street on Walker Court which is located north of here. Beyond the city street on Walker Court, it is the city limits of Gardenville..."

Pearlet stopped typing on her mobile telephone keyboard and looked up with a sour frown to see Tarsal. "No, you are wrong. The city street on Walker Court is part of the city limits in Gardenville, where I work and live, since my birth."

He turned and frowned at Pearlet. "No. The city street on Walker Court is part of Felton..."

"No. I was called and came and collected all the criminal evidence at the crime scene on Walker Court. Walker Court is located inside the city limits of Gardenville."

He tossed both of his arms in the air with a sour frown. "Then you should have called me to come and collect all the criminal evidence at the crime scene on Walker Court. Where are the criminal evidence boxes from 701 Walker Court?" He dropped down both of his arms and slapped his trousers.

She said with a smile, looking down at the tiny screen on her mobile telephone. "I do know but you do not," Pearlet laughed.

On top of the manicured yard in the bright sunlight, Tarsal wiped off the sweaty brow and exhaled with annoyance, looking up to face north, pointing at the line of thick woods of trees, wildflowers, and plant bushes. He said, "I am facing north which extends into the city limits of Felton, where the first murder house is located," he turned and stared in a westerly direction. "Now, the second murder house is facing due west from the third murder house, which is located here on Heaton Court," he turned and stared in an easterly direction. "Now, I am facing east, where no murder or murder house has been discovered. The eastern part in the tiny town of Felton contains only groves of thick trees and rows of houses. If you drive beyond the eastern side of Felton, then you see more groves of thick trees and a few crop farms. If you continue to drive further east, then you travel out of the great State of Alabama and then into the great U.S. State of Georgia, going all the way to the Atlantic Ocean. So, we do not have a murder family unit or a murder house in the eastern part of the city or the state or the country."

He turned with a smile and faced north again, waving both of his arms in the air. "Now, the three houses are geographically located in the north and in the west from the third murder house. So, it is very logically here. Wallis Wollen took his personal vehicle and rode to each murder house which would be minutes apart." Tarsal dropped down both of his arms and slapped his trousers.

She continued to type on the keyboard and then viewed the tiny screen on her mobile telephone. "Wallis Wollen did not use his personal vehicle. His body, his clothes, and his vehicle would be covered in tons of blood proteins coming from the other two murdered family units, in which the Birmingham CSI team unit would have found by sight and the Felton K-9 dog unit would have found by smell."

He nodded with a stern face and pointed down at the yard, then the skyline, and then woods. "Yeah! That's strange that the pack of Felton K-9 dogs didn't pick up the murderer's smell from the third murder house."

She looked up with a smile to see the nose profile on Tarsal. "And I found it strange that the Gardenville K-9 dog unit didn't find the murderer's sense coming out from the Gardenville residence on 701 Walker Court either. And I can explain each death theory. The three murder houses are located in three different geographical directions. However, each house is located around a famous landmark, the Black Creek Park."

Tarsal stood in place and gasped in shock, narrowing his eyelids, viewing the woods. He nodded with a smile. "Yeah. Wallis Wollen lives here on Heaton Court. So, he runs away from the back yard of his own house, tumbling down the hill and splashes through the Black Creek stream that runs north and south. He crosses the shallow water stream and disguises his manly scent. That's why the K-9 nose on each bloodhound dog could not find him or his smell as the pursuing murderer.

"So, Wallis hides in the woods and then races ahead, climbing up the sloped forest trees and heads towards his rental house. He attacks and kills the entire five members of the Jarvis family on 701 Walker Court. Then Wallis leaves the house and then jogs through the wet tree leaves, re-crossing the shallow creek stream for a second time which is was very wise criminal move. He turns and jogs due west while heading towards his rental residential house on Stouts Court. The roadway on Stouts Court runs slightly east to west. Then he enters and kills the second family that rents his house property for the money, honey.

"Then Wallis leaves the house in blood and jogs due west but crosses over the next creek stream on the Black Creek waterway that runs east and west, disguising his bloody footpath again. Because the Felton K-9 dog units could not find a bloody foot print or a foot trace among the bushes or tree bark.

"So, Wallis follows the Black Creek waterway system down in the valley and crosses underneath the highway concrete bridge and hides down in the line of forest trees and waits. He dashes ahead and enters the rear door with his personal house key and kills the family unit there." He clapped with a smile. "I'm so smart."

Pearlet gasped in shock and then sneered in fury. "I'm so smart here. Finally, Wallis escapes through the back yard at 2404 Stouts Court and re-crosses the water stream that runs north and south which is still attached to the Black Creek Park and moseys back into his own back yard. Then he strolls straight ahead into the open kitchen on his third rental house, killing his brother and his brother's lovely family members for his third cold-blooded act. Now, I do believe that I have proven that Wallis Wollen is the triple murder of three murdered family units."

He turned and gasped in her face. "So, how did Wallis Wollen commit the three murders of an entire family unit within a short period of clock time?"

She nodded with a chuckle. "Wallis Wollen assumed the appearance of a jogger and jogged over the flat jogging trail in different geographical directions within the Black Creek Park that connects all the three murder homes without another jogger seeing or knowing his true bloody intent. Excuse the pun!"

He laughed. "Wow! That's brilliant."

"Thank you!"

He smiled. "I mean. Wallis Wollen is a brilliant murderer. I solved the murder case."

Pearlet frowned. "I solved the murderer. Now, we have to prove our working death theory," she spun around and dashed ahead towards the garage building, turning to see Zimb. On top of the rear brick patio, Zimb continued to work his CSI job with the blood smear in silence.

On top of the green manicured yard, Tarsal turned and yelled at her back spine, slowly dashing ahead. "Why do we have to do that? We just narrated the verbal story. So, we just narrate the same verbal story back to Police Chief Melum. Then she will order the arrest of Wallis Wollen. I was right the entire time. Hey! What are you doing?" He continued to run and waved both of his arms in the air holding his mobile telephone.

At 12:54 pm inside the garage space setting, Pearlet entered through the open side garage door and ran back into the garage building, stopping in front of the small tool chest again. She squatted down and opened the lid, reaching inside, pulling out a hammer with a smile.

Tarsal swiftly raced ahead with confusion and followed her into the same garage building, strolling towards the same tool chest and stopped with puzzlement. "What are you doing with that hammer?"

She spun around with a smile to see Tarsal without banging the work tool into his dull brain cells. "Look! We have established a great death theory here. Now, we need to time in both minutes and seconds the same foot route that Wallis took to each murder house. You carry the crowbar. I got the hammer which is stimulating a murder weapon on my body with about the same weight. I'll run at a faster pace through the hiking park from Heaton Court here over to the next murder house on Walker Court and measure and time it. Then I'll run from murder house on Walker Court towards the third murder house on Stouts Court and then come back into the back yard at the third murder house here on Heaton Court and measure and time it. So, you run at a steady runner's pace with the crowbar. We know that Wallis carried the crowbar and hid it on his body and then used it to kill each person. You time your steady run with minutes and seconds again. Then we come back and will compare the different times and fit it within the death time of one hour." She moved ahead towards the garage archway with the stolen hammer, exiting the garage building, standing in the heated sunlight, before Tarsal.

He nodded with a smile. "That's a great idea." Tarsal squatted down and lifted the first tray, examining the bottom on the tool chest with a gasp. "Hmm! Why are there two crowbars inside the same tool chest?" He reached down and grabbed the second crowbar that was not marred in red paint or blood lifting near his frown. He replaced the tool tray back down inside the chest without closing the lid.

Outside on top of the vanilla tinted walkway, Pearlet shouted out loud. "Come on, Tarsal! We're running of time and sunshine here." she continued to run in place warming up her set of cold leg muscles. She needed to figure out Wollen's proper murder foot trail, within the murder hour, between the three separate locations. And she didn't want a painful muscle cramp during the murder track racing down through the Black Creek Park jogging trail.

At 12:58 pm at the garage walkway in the heated sunlight, Tarsal slowly stood upright with a smile and spun around, moving through the garage space, seeing Pearlet through the open archway.

She continued to slowly pump each leg in the air, holding the hammer in one hand, wearing a blue tinted business jacket, a matching business skirt, and a pair of low heels. She faced the woods that led into the Black Creek Park hiking trail and creek waters. Her face was glittering in sweat balls from the hot and bright sunlight and as she huffed in heavy pants. "Are you ready?"

He exited the garage building and stopped, standing at her nose profile, reaching down, gently pressing down his work clothes with a sour frown. "No, I am not ready. We can't properly stimulate a murder act in a set of street clothes. We really need to wear a set of jogging clothes to accurately stimulate the death times and the death run. I do possess a pair of sneakers and a set of running shorts in the cab of my truck. I wanna change my clothes outta of the stiff blue jeans," he moved ahead towards the truck across the manicured yard and parked at the roadway.

She nodded with a stern face and slowly jogged ahead while keeping both of her leg muscles warm. She didn't have a second set of clothing or jogging clothes, but she only needed a rough estimation time of the three murders for her police work.

At 01:04 pm, at the Heaton Court roadway, Tarsal stopped and stood at the rear end on the truck, lifting the cover, grabbing a bag of clean clothes. He scooted down the side of his truck and entered the cab on the truck, shutting all the doors. He swiftly wiggled out of the blue jeans and into a pair of jogging shorts and a pair of running shorts that he used from time to time. Tarsal slid out the truck and stood on top of the grass, smiling at Pearlet. She slowly appeared and jogged in place, standing in front of him, panting in steady huffs of air. He slapped the new outfit with a smile at her. "I don't have a second set of runner's clothes for you."

She stopped running with a smile, slipping off her business jacket, tossing it on top of his driver's seat. Then she slipped off her business skirt and tossed it on top of his driver's seat. She wore a set of pink undergarments with a pattern of cute red and blue tiny flowers over the soft fabric which appeared like a jogging outfit for a female.

Tarsal gasped in awe and then smiled at her set of cute girly undergarments in silence. She turned and winked at Tarsal. "Does that snub nose look good now?"

He drooled with mouth spit and stared at her fit body, "Uh! Yeah!"

She rolled her two eyeballs and then looked down at the screen of her mobile telephone, verifying the geographical directions with a smile. "It does matter. Are we ready?" She looked up with a wink to see Tarsal and then swiftly spun around to face the manicured yard, slowly strolling ahead towards the woods. He moved beside her and continued to stare at her fit body in the pink undergarments in silence. She strolled ahead and turned with a worried brow, staring at the rear patio and CSI responder Zimb.

On top of the pink tinted patio surface, CSI responder Zimb sat on his kneecaps inside that ridiculous CSI yellow tinted rubber suit like an overgrown kid and continued to slowly remove one single object out from the yellow tinted CSI bag, placing the single object down on top of the brick while looking for the blood tester kit.

On top of the grassy hill overlooking the woods and the stream of water, Pearlet stopped and frowned at the incompetent CSI man, feeling her strong stomach acids and her raising bitter bile coming up a tight esophagus. If Zimb messed up this blood test, she was going to whip out her police issued gun and kill the CSI rubber suit, without his body inside, venting her mean frustration.

This was the only chance to prove that Wallis Wollen had murdered his own family members and his renters from his rental property.

Tarsal stopped and stood beside Pearlet while still staring down at her pink tinted undergarments.

She returned back and stared into the woods. "Ready. Set. Go." Pearlet dashed ahead first towards the thicket of green forest that comprised Black Creek Park and held the hammer in her hand down by her waistline. She didn't want to drop the tool on top of the ground for a young child or mature adult to find. Then the new alerted police officer would trace it back to the Wollen murder which would show her finger prints on the work tool and then create an embarrassing situation.

She quickly raced over the short hill of trimmed short green tinted grass, running down a slope of dried leaves and small tree twigs, racing ahead over a rough terrain of both soggy grass and lumpy soil ground, where the water and the soil did not mix nicely. She continued to run and dodged each low-lying tree limb, without breaking her ugly snub nose bridge, slowly marking a wet foot trial through the swamp-like landscape and then she emerged into the open gravel clearing.

In front of her eyeballs, a flat gray tinted jogging pathway stood between the two thickets of trees and forest, where numerous people enjoyed the park, the trees, and the footpath. The people consisted of single joggers, single and double baby strollers with a mother and her babies, and pairs of strolling elderly folks. The park was a popular landmark that provided a free walking pathway and the beauty of nature.

Pearlet continued to jog in place while keeping her leg muscles warmed. Several feet ahead, across the flat footpath, a sloped hill contained scattered row of small low-lying bushes and small chunks of solid rock, but it easily provided a rough walk up the hillside. On top of the sloped hillside, a line of thick tall trees stood upright and showed a row of dull tan colored trailers that were parked on top of the red dirt which brightly glittered within the bright sunshine.

In front of the line of trees that blocked Heaton Court, Pearlet tossed both of her arms in the air with the hammer, dropping them back down, still jogging in place, looking down to see her wrist watch. She marked the time and the mileage. She looked up with a smile and jogged across the flat grass, hit the flat footpath, and then swiftly climbed up the slightly sloped hillside without missing a beat and with ease like Wallis Woolen, because he was a fit and healthy middle-age man. And he had performed the same running maneuver for the murder.

Pearlet swiftly climbed up the slightly sloped hillside and stopped in the flat red dirt, standing directly behind a trailer at 701 Walker Court. She recognized the yellow tinted police tape and the position of the house trailer in relation to the prime entrance roadway, where the stupid teenager had killed a stray dog. She tossed both of her arms in the air with a nod and a smile. "I am right." She spun around then moved ahead quickly sliding down the loose rocks and soft grass blades on the sloped hillside, tumbling back down into the rough patch of dirt and grass. She dashed ahead then turned onto the flat jogger pathway, quickly jogged due west, passing some of the slow baby strollers and older couples, breathing in a steady pace.

Wallis Wollen would not have passed any of the serious joggers without drawing attention to his older person, so he had flowed with the regular jogging crowd while disguising his participation with the two other murdered families, who were his rental tenants also.

Pearlet copied that motion and jogged behind a line of avid runners, turning to observe the park. The park grass and trail were filled with slow moving baby stroller with mom, small roaming children, and numerous family pet dogs with their individual family members. The late afternoon was a busy time as each exhausted worker or restless mother came home and deiced to walk the park alleviating the rough day of work. She crossed underneath the highway bridge. The landscape was unique here in Felton.

A long time ago, a set of steel railroad tracks had been built from the tiny northwestern town of Pinson back and forth to the southwestern tiny city of Felton hauling numerous rail cars of cotton, food stuffs, and livestock down into the Birmingham Depot, until the old rail line had been cut off and then directly connected to the primary railway tracks. The flat land of three miles had comprised rough black tinted wooden cross ties and vertical steel rails which had been pulled up by the city leaders.

Now, Black Creek Park, the three miles of flat trail consisted of running on top of loose gravel, swimming in the Black Creek shallow ponds and streams, hiking in the woods, kicking a pile of dried leaves in the air and enjoying nature without a price tag.

Pearlet enjoyed the afternoon jog but continued to spy on each hiker, dashing down a flat vanilla colored jogging path, seeing a row of houses on the side. She veered towards the roadway and then ducked into the thick patch of green and brown tinted woods. The woods featured a thick grove of tall, skinny brown tinted trees and over story of green leaves with a rug of dead leaves on the ground and a flowing shallow stream of fresh water. She dashed ahead and ducked down from each low-lying tree limb, splashing through the shallow water stream, racing ahead towards a clearing. She emerged out from the line of trees and stopped, standing at the ratty back yard on 2404 Stouts Court, exhaling with deep breaths. The house had been burned on the rear end and covered in black colored soot. She nodded with a smile and looked down to check her wrist watch, marking both the time and the distance from 701 Walker Court. Pearlet back stepped into the woods then spun around, dashing back through the grove of trees, entering back onto the jogging trail, running back toward Heaton Court while checking the time and distance.

A few minutes later, Pearlet swiftly dashed ahead and huffed out sour breaths, pumping both arms and legs, racing down the jogger pathway. She veered into the familiar woods and slowed her pace, jerking side to side, avoiding the low-lying tree limbs in the forest and raced up the sloped grassy hill. She topped the hill and dashed ahead over the manicured yard, seeing Tarsal inside the manicured yard between the two residential houses on Heaton Court.

On top of the grass, Tarsal stood in the middle of the yard and fiddled with his personal telephone in silence.

She stopped in front of his body and stood in place, slightly jogging, cooling down her heart rate. She puffed out her words at his jaw line as his face continued to fiddle with the tiny screen on his mobile telephone. "The manicured back yard from Heaton Court going through the Black Water Creek stream to the back yard on 701 Walker Court is precisely 0.5 miles or 2,640 feet. I ran at top speed and it took me eleven minutes and five seconds."

Tarsal looked up with a wink and a smile. "I concur with your running adventure. The foot mileage is half-a-mile in miles or two minutes by automobile."

She halted with a gag and then gasped, coughing out loud. "What?"

"But it took me three minutes by bicycle."

She gasped. "What!"

"Did you see me pass your body in your pink underwear? O! I guess you were ahead of me." He pointed towards the woods with a smile and a laugh. "There's a cute metal rack of brightly colored rental bicycles for an avid athletic like me..."

She sneered. "I bet your best athletic feat is sitting on top of your soft sofa in front of your gigantic television screen wrestling with a cold sweaty bottle of beer."

He laughed. "That is a true statement of my athletic prowess."

She marched in place while calming down her fury, panting in deep breaths. "Then I jogged from the side yard on 701 Walker Court running down the short slope and onto the flat hiking path and underneath the road bridge, running through the thicket of woods to 2404 Stouts Court which is 0.8 miles or 4,224 feet. I ran that in eighteen minutes at top speed."

He nodded with a smile without breathing hard. "I concur with your personal police adventure. The bike trail is a little over half a mile in length. I had accomplished the same trek in six minutes by bicycle."

She wiped the sweat from her face and wet arms with a sneer. "What?"

"Or four minutes by automobile..."

She gagged and then gasped, coughing out loud. "What?"

He rubbed his hands with a smile and a nod. "This is the murder scenario. Wallis left here at 3:15 pm from his back yard of his home at 3003 Heaton Court, because the local schools release all the students at three o'clock. He had to wait for each elementary child to come back home from school. Or his killing pattern would have been interrupted by the arriving elementary child.

"So, he runs down the manicured grassy hill and moves through the Black Creek stream and then he climbs up the steep grade and arrives on top of the leafy back yard at 701 Walker Court at 3:26 pm which is eleven miles of jogging time. Then he quickly enters his own rental trailer house with his own key and then swiftly hits and chops and slices and dices up each family member which would have taken a healthy man about ten more minutes of hard fist and arm labor. So, he left the Walker Court house at 3:37 pm..."

"Wait. Wait. Wait," she tossed both of her palms near her frown. "Wallis is covered in red tinted blood on his clothes and his body. Someone would have seen Wallis and then called the police. I don't think..."

"And Wallis kills them in his buck-naked form and then covers his buck-naked body with a new sweat suit and then ran out the house, sliding back down the hills and jumps down the stream of water and cleans off his bloody body like Brother Jesus. He finishes all of that manly action sequence pattern at 3:47 pm. Some of the woods are deep with tree stumps and some of the streams are very deep like pond water. You arrived there at 3:45 pm which was ten minutes after Wallis had left the trailer house while he had been still playing in the stream water."

She said with a nod. "I agree with that."

Tarsal said with a nod. "Now, his body is cleaned and wears the same athletic sweat suit that shows his fake body sweat, baby. He runs out of the woods like a deer and rolling again. He jogs over the hiking trail..."

Pearlet said, "Wait! No! Wallis travels faster than foot speed. He rents a bicycle like you to save time and work less."

He said and shook his curls. "No. He would have had to pay money like I did. Someone would have remembered him at that precise time with a set of wet clothes and his wet hair while renting a bicycle to exercise."

She said with a nod. "I agree with you."

"At 3:47 pm, Wallis jogs ahead by foot on top of the hiking trail coming from the Black Creek stream, running underneath the road bridge and beside the woods, heading to the back yard on 2404 Stouts Court which is 0.8 miles. He arrived eighteen minutes later at 4:05 pm. He opened the back door that he owned with his own house key and surprised the residential adult female inside the kitchen, who was the mother, the wife and the cook in front of the active gas grill. He knocked her out with his clean and shiny crowbar and did the same thing to the other four family members..."

"That's a very good point. He cleans the Juarez blood off the metal crowbar inside the wash sink at 701 Walker Court or inside the Black Creek water."

He said with a nod. "So, his death killing pattern changes and is not slicing and dicing each human body which would have taken too long. He knocks everyone unconscious which is only three minutes. At 4:08 pm, Wallis turns up each eye on the stove with the high flames and the places the unconscious mother on top of the stove oven. She burns into a plume of pretty flames and then spreads those spraying and spilling burning flames throughout the house until all the other family members are dead and also until the first guest arrives for the five o'clock birthday party for the dead nine-year-old kid. The guests call the fire truck. If the first guest had not arrived, the house would have been burned without any evidence..."

Pearlet frowned. "There isn't any evidence there."

He smiled. "We have not visited the almost burnt house on 2404 Stouts Court yet."

"There is not any evidence in there, Tarsal."

He nodded. "Yes, there is always police and legal and guilty evidence. We have to work harder to find it."

She nodded. "I concur."

He nodded. "Now, Wallis leaves out from 2404 Stouts Court house at 4:09 pm and quickly jogs back down the same flat gravel hiking foot path and returns back into the thicket of the green tinted woods which is another twenty-two minutes. The time is now 4:31 pm."

She frowned. "Why would he do that?"

He nodded. "Wallis has to wash off any residue from the fire flames on his body and changes his clothes into a new sweat suit while looking like he is really jogging for exercise. He really does fool each jogger, who thinks he is an old man in bad health. Now, the time is 4:31pm. He is almost back home. He runs back home and wears his pair blue jeans and his dirty short sleeved shirt and his pair of leather shoes. I do remember what he was wearing when I tackled him like a pro linebacker. Ugh! And he smelled of heavy woody cologne too."

She laughed. "Ugh! Wait! Where is each pair of sweaty running clothes?"

He frowned. "Really!"

She shook her curls. "O! The pairs of sweaty and bloody clothes are located back at Black Creek stream. So, when he left the jail house, this morning, he went back to the woods and grabbed the clothes."

He nodded. "Yes, that evidence is gone with the wind and has probably been buried deep down in the dirt somewhere within five hundred acres of woods."

She turned and stared at the woods. "Yeah, I heard that one."

"Back to his killing spree, Wallis runs straight into his brother's house and carries a clean and wet crowbar inside his back pocket with him. He enters through the open door inside the kitchen, where his brother is standing and coming home from the working job. The brother turns around to greet and smiled at his brother. Wallis slams the crowbar into the heart organ on his brother ripping it out with fury and then lifted up the claw-like tip, slapping and racking off the face on this brother."

She exhaled with a nod. "Yes, that sounds correct."

Tarsal nodded. "Wallis spins the crowbar like a baton and flings the pumping heart through the air waves. The heart hits something. Wallis dashes ahead. The body of his dead brother tumbles sideways and then lands in front of the side wall beside the refrigerator. Wallis races ahead whipping the crowbar sideways and attacks the wife in front of the island that holds numerous food plates and food dishes. It is suppertime at the Wollen house. Wallis slices and dices through her tiny waistline with both end points on the crowbar actually batting and swinging both end points side to side, slicing through her bone and tissue. Did you note at the waistline on each adult female the edges were not smoothly sawed but a rough chop, chop, chop with a dull blade?"

"Yes."

He nodded. "That is the body mark coming from the top tip on the crowbar which appears as a claw-hook shape and then it hooks, hits, and then slices into the tender human meat and the hard, fragile skeleton bone on each screaming human, who is the newest death victim of Wallis Wollen."

"Okay."

Tarsal nodded. "Wallis charges at the stationary baby who is securely strapped inside his high chair and then slices off the head skull on the baby with the end point on the bloody crowbar. He racks the claw-hook shape down the side neck on the young toddler which rips through the delicate and tender human exterior skin organ, slicing the tiny toddler body parts from the rest of the toddler body. Then Wallis spins around with a sneer and sees the oldest daughter, who stands inside the other archway between the kitchen room and the den room. He swiftly charges and then racks the claw-hook shape into the tiny flesh on her neck and then rips off her neck including the right arm going down to her rib cage. Part of her tiny body is inside the kitchen floor of blood and the other half rests on the floor of the white tinted carpet inside the den room. That murderous act takes ten minutes. Wallis leaves the house at 04:45 pm and walks across the manicured yard while trying to bury the murder weapon or wash it clean. I was called to the crime scene at 04:55 pm and got here within minutes of the next hour at five o'clock. The end," he laughed.

She frowned. "So, how did Wallis get out of the bloody kitchen here at the third murder house? He was covered in their wet sticky blood proteins from hair roots down to his expensive leather shoes. And you saw him in the manicured yard without all the wet sticky red tinted blood and then you tackled him without getting your personal body coated with the same wet sticky red blood also."

He lifted and shook his finger with a frown at Pearlet. "We have to prove this. Wallis possesses a house key into each rental house. This is a true fact. He hid a pair of his clean clothes somewhere for his body and his escape. This is a working theory. Now, if I had murdered an entire family in the same room, where the room had been covered in a pond of blood, how would have exited that bloody room without tracking out one single blood protein? I would have ripped out and then placed down part of the clean clothes coming from one of the dead persons on top of the bloody floor and then walked over the pond of blood. My foot prints would be hidden down inside the clean piece of clothing that would have drowned down in that pond of wet blood. Then I will leap up from the piece of wet cloth and then jump into the air, landing on top of the clean part of the carpet and then perform my escape in my naked form. This is a death theory also."

"Right."

He nodded. "Yes, Wallis did that. That's why the dog didn't see or hear or charge at his moving body inside his own rental house, which is the murder house also. Wallis moved out from the kitchen and into another part of the clean house, after leaving the bloody clothes that really belonged to the wife and the husband behind on top of the ocean of blood inside that nasty kitchen. No one can tell whose clothes belong to whom. Did you see the bloody crime scene? Excuse the pun! The clothes were shredded with their individual golden tan skin tissue too. And the dog had smelled Wallis before over a time period of years and years as the dog knew the smell and smile on Wallis. The dog must have been elderly and had been sound slept upstairs in the upper room, maybe inside the child's room and didn't hear the screams of the children."

She frowned. "But all of sudden here, why did the dog charge after the back spine on Wallis coming out from that bloody kitchen door?"

"The crime occurred around 4:30 pm. The elderly dog had awakened from its deep slumber for its dinner time of food."

She gasped in alarm. "Yes, of course, of course, the dog was cold and hungry. The old dog slowly stumbled down the steep staircase in sleep and then looked with a set of bad eyeballs for its loving family members while sniffing the air waves of death. But the old dog couldn't smell the air waves of death or its fresh food. So, it stumbled over the floor and then entered the kitchen finding each of its dead loving family members. Then its wolf animal instinct kicked into play and galloped out the open archway after the only upright moving figure. The dog didn't know that Wallis killed all of its family members..."

"Yes, the dog did. The dog smelled the washed off blood of his family members..."

"Can a dog really smell the washed off blood of its family members?"

He nodded with a smile. "The nose of canine contains over 1,000 sensory patterns. So, the dog did smell the washed off blood from each one of its devoted family members and then attacked for its bloody revenge. Excuse the pun!" Tarsal laughed.

She stood in place and tossed both of her arms into the air with a smile. "The end! The death theory works out with triple murderer Wallis Wollen and his three rental tenants. Now, we must confirm the blood smear on the crowbar," Pearlet spun around with a smile and dashed ahead, racing ahead towards the rear patio at the Wollen murder house. "One last piece of evidence to tie murderer Wallis Wollen to each murdered family unit."

On the rear patio at the Wollen murder house, Zimb sat in a crossed-legged pose on top of the brick floor and typed at the tiny keyboard, on his personal mobile telephone, in silence. The crowbar had been placed back inside the plastic bag.

On top of the manicured yard, Tarsal spun around with a gasp and viewed the new situation with worry, racing ahead of Pearlet, reaching his friend first. He stopped and stood on top of the brick, panting in heavy breaths, looking down at the black tinted hair roots on Zimb.

Pearlet appeared and stood beside Tarsal, sneering down at the same black tinted hair roots on Zimb, parting her lips.

Tarsal smiled down at the crowbar on the brick patio surface. "A positive..."

Zimb continued to sit on top of the brick and looked up with a smile to see Tarsal, pointing at the crowbar inside the plastic bag. "How did you know the blood smear would present with blood type A-positive. That's correct, Tarsal. You are the man here."

She looked up and turned with a gasp to see the nose profile on Tarsal. "What?"

Tarsal squatted down with a smile and reached out, grabbing the plastic bag with the dried bloody crowbar, cuddling into his chest. He looked up and winked at Zimb and then turned to wink at Pearlet. "The entire Wollen family presents with blood type A-positive. Thus, it would be logical to conclude that the blood smear on the crowbar is also blood type A-positive."

She squatted down with a gasp of shock and sneered at Tarsal and then Zimb. "Are both of you absolutely positive that the bloody type is A-positive?"

Tarsal laughed. "Excuse you and your silly pun! Yes, I am absolutootly positive that everything is positive now."

She growled at the Felton CSI man. "Zimb, what is your official CSI report on the blood smeared over the crowbar, sir?"

Zimb nodded with a smile at Tarsal only. "The blood smear is blood type A, which is rare among three hundred million people here in America."

"All right!" she stood upright from the brick surface with a smile.

Tarsal tossed the plastic bag with the crowbar at Peale.

She captured the bag in silence and then spun around with a smile, swiftly moving ahead over the soft grass, wearing her matching set of pink undergarments and a pair of low-heeled blue shoes.

Zimb leaned over but watched the back spine on Pearlet with a smile. "Did Pearlet change her clothes? She was wearing a blue business suit before."

Tarsal laughed. "No. She got hot and heated during her police search. Can you head back to the police station and inform Melum about our new discovery? She will want to issue an arrest warrant on Wallis Wollen as soon as possible. I bet his same jail cell is pretty and still pine-smelling like before," he stood upright from the patio with a laugh and continued to watch the back spine or the lower body part on Pearlet.

Zimb slowly stood upright from the brick patio beside his friend Tarsal. "Yeah, no prob! I'm finished and have recorded all my findings in the CSI database which I'm supposed to do. And I have placed all of my CSI gear back into my car. Where were you? I couldn't find you once I had finished my CSI analysis. And I am so glad that this triple murder is done and finished."

Tarsal reached over and slapped the collar bone on Zimb with a smile. "I was doing police detective work," he exited from the patio and moved through the manicured grass with a smile.

Zimb exited the patio also and turned the house corner, moving ahead towards his personal vehicle, leaving the crime scene. He headed back towards the police station wearing a smile of relief.

At 01:38 pm, on the city street of Heaton Court, beside the passenger open door on the pickup truck, Pearlet stared down at the dried blood on the silver tinted crowbar inside the extra-large plastic bag, wearing a smile and a soft chuckle. She had personal bagged the serial killer of three individual murdered family units.

Tarsal stopped then stood beside her, looking down at the plastic bag on top of the bench seat with a smile in silence. Then they both looked up and smiled at each other, chuckling with amusement.

A moving silver tinted four-door sedan slowly rolled down the Heaton Court pavement.

At the open door on the Tarsal's truck, Pearlet reached inside and grabbed her business jacket, spinning around, seeing the vehicle. She slipped on the jacket with a gasp then said. "That's Wallis Wollen. That's his luxury sedan. We can capture his person right here, right now!" She spun around with a growl and dashed away from the open door and Tarsal, racing beside the car on the roadway.

Tarsal spun around with a gasp and reached out, stretching out for Pearlet then shouted. "No!"

The luxury sedan won the foot race with Pearlet then slowed the speed, turning off the public roadway into the private driveway at 3003 Heaton Court.

Pearlet continued to run down the flat manicured yard and beside the roadway with a sour frown in her set of pink tinted undergarments without the hammer and her mobile telephone as her suit jacket flapped in the wind storm.

Tarsal raced ahead with a worried brow towards the active police chase, dashing after Pearlet.

On top of the yellow tinted brick driveway, the sedan stopped. The driver's door slid open. Wallis Wollen slid out from his car and turned with a sour frown, staring at the parked silver tinted pickup truck on top of the manicured yard at 3001 Heaton Court house.

"Hey!" Pearlet turned from the grass and shouted out loud, swiftly racing ahead across the driveway.

At the car, Wallis spun around with a gasp and side stepped from the open car door, extending both of his arms even with the pavement in silence. She collided into an upright Wallis, wrapping both her arms around his waistline, spinning both of them in a circle. She lost her footing and then released Wallis balancing her body upright. He circled around and then stumbled, falling down on top hard brick surface, hitting his face. He broke his nose bridge, blackening both of his eye sockets. She jumped on top of his back spine with a laugh and leaned down, reaching out and grabbed one on his arms. She jerked the arm behind his back spine, sneering with her police words. "You are under the arrest for the murders of your brother Wrest Wollen, his brother's wife Wobbie Wollen, his brother's oldest daughter Woad Wollen..."

Tarsal arrived and stopped with soft laughter on top of the private driveway, pointing down at the cute couple on top of the yellow tinted brick surface.

Inside the sedan, the wife of Wallis slid out from the passenger seat with a huff, marched around the front bumper with a sour frown, and stopped a few feet from the grounded Wallis. She jabbed her fat finger with a sneer at the skull on her husband. "What is this? What have you done now, Wallis? Why is a semi-naked girl sitting on top of your back? Why is a police officer laughing at your person? What is wrong with you, Wallis Wollen?"

Inside the sedan, one teenager at a time opened the rear door and then slid out from the rear bench seat, standing beside each open rear door, typing on the tiny keyboard of their individual mobile telephone and stared at the tiny screen in silence while ignoring the adult entertainment.

A sound of loud whistles echoed throughout the air. A few seconds later, a green and white Felton police car swiftly cruised down the city street on Heaton Court with a set of blue and white emergency lights and then slowed the speed, pulling onto the yellow tinted private driveway and halted with squeaking four tires. Zimb had arrived at the police station and informed Police Chief Melum with the new information.

On top of the private driveway, each door on the police car slid open and revealed two sitting individuals. Police Chief Melum slid out from the passenger seat and scanned the new scene. Murderer Wollen rested on top of the driveway. Police detective Pearlet sat on the back spine of murderer Wallis Wollen. Police detective Tarsal stood on top of the driveway, pointing with a laugh at Wallis. The wife of Wallis continued to stand and jab her finger at the rear skull, shouting with a string of loud curse words at her husband. Their two teenagers continued to stand and type on their individual mobile telephone in silence.

Melum moved ahead from the open car door with a smile and stopped, standing near the nose profile on Wallis then said. "Officer, please come over here and escort our newest bad guy back into his newly cleaned jail cell at the Felton Police Station. Mr. Wollen, you can use the same jail cell from this morning as it is freshly cleaned and smelly woody-pine for your nostrils. Take the prisoner away!" She tossed an arm in the air with an evil laugh.

The police officer quickly shuffled ahead from the police car in silence then stopped, squatting down with a stern face, assisting Wallis to stand upright. Wallis didn't say anything and continued to stare down at the yellow tinted brick driveway, leaking out his red tinted blood proteins on his chin, over his clothes and down onto his driveway. He and the police officer slowly moved ahead and stopped at the rear door on the police car. Wallis slid down into the rear seat in silence.

On top of the yellow driveway, Police Chief Melum stood in place and watched the procession wearing a wicked grin in silence. She would become the hero of Felton tomorrow morning once the mayor learned of her personal capture of a serial killer. Then she would retire in a blaze of glory from her stressful police job and start writing her million-dollar police novel, finally attaining the wealth and fame that she had craved for decades. The police car settled Wallis and driver back into the proper seats and then left 3003 Heaton Court residential house for the police station.

Melum continued to stand in place and wore a wicked grin. Pearlet moved ahead and stopped, standing with a smile beside Melum. Tarsal moved ahead and stood beside Pearlet wearing a smirk in silence. Police Chief Melum turned and smiled at her talented police officers then said. "Both of you did a great job of police work here. I'm so sorry that I didn't believe you, Tarsal. You were right from the start. But now, Wallis Wollen is in his rightful place. We'll meet tomorrow morning at ten o'clock. So, the both of you enjoy your morning breakfast at home and come into the police office later in the morning. Then we'll discuss the murderous case with district attorney Dawner. Go home and enjoy your evening, Pearlet and Tarsal."

Tarsal said with a smile. "O! I have the murder weapon in my truck."

Melum said with a grin. "Bring it into the office tomorrow morning!"

Tarsal spun around in silence and dashed ahead with a smile, enjoying his free evening tonight. He was going to call and contact that cute blonde college student at the Mother and Daughter Coffee Boutique for a dinner date tonight.

On top of the yellow tinted driveway, Pearlet turned a smile and watched the back spine on Tarsal then said, "Police Chief Melum..."

"Don't worry!" Melum stared and smiled at the back spine on Tarsal, saying to Pearlet. "You did all the smart work on the police murder case here, Pearlet. I am quite certain. So, you go home and enjoy your free evening also. Starting tomorrow morning, your life will dramatic change, for the betterment, of me and you. I promise. And I would suggest that you do not wear that sexy outfit at your work day tomorrow," she frowned at the revealing clothing on Pearlet.

"Yes ma'am!" Pearlet said and spun around with a chuckle and dashed ahead towards Tarsal. Her misplaced business skirt was located inside his truck for a new purpose.
Thursday, June 7th

Hot temperatures with bright sunshine

Police Station location

Police lobby setting

10:08 am

Tarsal pulled the truck into the empty police station lot and parked in front of the building, staring at the black pavement with puzzlement, killing the engine. "Where is everyone?" He opened the door and slid down onto the pavement, reaching inside, lifting the tray of hot cups of coffee. He scooted by the Mother and Daughter Coffee Boutique, this morning, buying coffee for his friends, flirting with the cute blonde college student. He carefully back stepped from the cab and slammed the door with his foot, moving ahead with a smile, entering through the automatic doors on the new police station building.

He strolled ahead and scanned an empty room with a puzzled brow. "Where is everyone located at? Is this a surprise party or something?" Tarsal scooted around the information counter with a laugh then stopped, standing in front of a row of empty metal office desks that were used by the cheap hire, the high school and college students. He leaned down and placed the tray of hot cups of coffee on top of the metal, lifting his specially gourmet brew, slowly sipping the tasty flavor. Then he spat out the brown colored liquid contents over the floor and the desk surface while staring at Pearlet.

Tall, slender, strawberry-blonde haired Pearlet slowly emerged out from the private business office that belonged to Police Chief Melum, wearing a smirk, displaying a new tan colored business suit, moving ahead then halted in the middle of the room, saying with a gasp. "Tarsal." He placed his gourmet tasty coffee cup down on top of the office desk surface as he might just toss the hot weapon at Pearlet in anger. Tarsal didn't need a lecture right here, coming from Police Chief Melum.

Police Chief Melum had become an instant heroine last night, after capturing the mysterious serial killer coming from the tiny town of Felton. Now, she was going to retire and announce her replacement, within days. Within the week, the members, that sat behind a long naked wooden table killing a colorful metal chair with an overweight and lazy human body, which represented the Felton Chamber of Commerce will elect a new Police Chief. The chamber members will not shake the sailing boat on the placid ocean waters either and vote to keep in production the city guard and announce a police chief replacement, maintaining love, peace, and harmony, who would serve for the next forty years or until their death.

Pearlet had waltzed into the Felton Police Station with her brilliant death theory, two days ago. Then Tarsal had applied that brilliant death theory and solved the mysterious murderous mayhem, yesterday. Also, he was also the highest senior police officer within the Felton police department. However, Pearlet had been not hired this morning at eight o'clock by Melum but assigned an office suite with a pink tinted metal office desk, right beside the police chief's business office, for some strange reason, based on the cute hand-written door sign on her business office door, which had been left by Melum and ripped down at Pearlet as a surprise shock to her new co-worker Tarsal. Tarsal did or did not know, if Pearlet had been hired onto the Felton police force, this morning, but it was fun to find out and pretend to annoy smartass Tarsal, with her secret information. So, Pearlet had arrived early in the morning, before her co-worker Tarsal, and was scouting out the police chief's office with her hidden agenda.

Melum had promised Pearlet the new Felton police chief's job while bypassing the open Felton police detective position. But that executive decision was not hers alone. She must submit that new name to the Felton Chamber of Commerce committee, where each member would approve, of course, one of the natives from Felton. Pearlet had been reared and raised inside Gardenville city limits.

Behind the information counter, inside the police station, Tarsal continued to stand and gritted his teeth at the newly hired police detective that ranked below his seniority here at the police station. "Pearlet, are you the only police detective here?"

She flipped her hand in the air with a bright smile then slapped her limb back down onto her chest, slowly moving ahead towards Tarsal. "Yet, but not for long, I do believe." He gasped with shock then closed his parted lips, softly growling at her obvious statement. She stopped with a giggle and reached down with a grin towards the tray. "Is this tray of hot cups of coffee for anyone to take and consume?"

He sneered. "Yeah, you should consume, while you can, as the old axiom goes. Because things and people change rapidly around those parts and places."

She grabbed one of the cups with a chuckle and brought it towards her smile, "I must remember that one."

He growled. "You should remember a lot of things, before it changes."

The entrance door on the police station slid open.

A short, overweight male wore a brown tinted business suit and carried a worn brown colored leather briefcase, displaying a balding head of black hair, a full black and grayish beard, a skin of golden suntan, and a pair of brown eyes. The male entered through the archway and scanned an empty police lobby, stopping then stood at the information counter. He shouted out loud and waved with his free hand in the air towards the two upright, stationary police officers. "Hello! Can you assist me here? Hello! I am in-need-of-assistance over here, please."

Tarsal continued to stand with a sneer at Pearlet then viewed the information counter, where a short middle age male stood and waved his hand. He slowly scanned an empty police lobby and work room, returning back to see Pearlet. "Where is everyone?"

She continued to stare at Tarsal with a smirk. "I do not know. I arrived here..."

He sneered. "What time did you arrive here?"

She smiled. "I arrived here and found the place empty..."

"Hello!" The new visitor to the police station continued to shout out loud. "I need help over here."

Tarsal spun around with a sneer and stared at the petite male stranger, moving ahead, stopping behind the information counter. He growled at the visitor, "What do you want?"

The unknown male smiled. "I..."

Pearlet gasped in alarm. Melum and the rest of the hired police officers were not present, when she had arrived at eight o'clock in the morning, hours before her rival police detective Tarsal. So, she had ventured into the police chief office figuring out where to place her new office desk for her new police chief post. Now, Pearlet completely understood the situation.

Melum had an appointment with the business man and had left the police office, so Pearlet could handle the critical situation. This was an administration test for Pearlet and her new police chief duty as the new police chief of Felton.

Pearlet spun around from the office desk then swiftly moved ahead, spilling the hot coffee down on the floor then halted with a gasp. She reached out and placed the coffee cup on top of another office desk, moving ahead, waving both of her arms in the air, saying with a smile. "Hello! Hello there! How may I assist you here, sir?"

Tarsal leaned over the counter and sneered down into the ugly face of the short unknown male. "Not, me!" He stood upright with a sour frown and crossed both of his arms staring at the short male in silence.

On the lobby side of the information counter, the petite older male wiggled his free hand then produced a white tinted business card with a chuckle, extending the same hand to Tarsal. "I am a dog bite litigation lawyer. I have viewed thousands and thousands of legal dog bite law cases here within the State of Alabama."

Tarsal stared with a sour frown at the well-dressed lawyer with the expensive business suit and a face of suntanned skin. "Who are you again?"

Pearlet collided into the counter with a lady grunt and leaned over the smooth surface, snatching up the tiny business card, standing upright with a smile. "Thank you! You are here to determine..."

"I am here to distinguish," the lawyer slapped his chest with a smile. "That is the proper term here, officer..."

She slapped her chest with a smile. "And I am the acting police chief right now, right here..."

Tarsal turned and growled into her cheekbone. "What in the fudge is this?"

The lawyer smiled. "It is my pleasure to greet and meet a female Police Chief. Thank you for working with me today. I am here to distinguish a doggie bite injury from an injury that has been caused by some other means."

Pearlet frowned with confusion as her mind could not comprehend the simple police test question that must be posted on some type of police chief examination. "What doggie bite?"

The lawyer smiled. "A doggie bite, which has been inflicted onto the body of a human, typically displays certain physical characteristics, where the doggie bite has allegedly happened on the human or animal body."

Tarsal pointed with a laugh at the lawyer then at Pearlet. "Excuse you and her, not me!"

The lawyer continued to smile and lectured at both Pearlet and Tarsal. "Both the natural and the physical appearance of an alleged doggie bite wound on a human body depends on the size and the breed of the canine plus the condition of the canine's fangs or teeth. In most legal cases, the set of fang teeth is not used. Most frequently, the only human wound injury is the infliction or imprint of the canine teeth marks or punctures..."

"Yes. Yes. I see." Pearlet continued to nod, without understanding the new police chief examination question. Tarsal exhaled with annoyance at the talkative male.

The lawyer continued to smile and lectured. "A doggie bite injury involves a three-step combination process which includes the vicious doggie biting on the targeted victim and then crushing the soft tissue, and finally tearing off the exterior skin that leaves a distinct doggie characteristic laceration on both the skin and the soft tissue."

"Yes. Yes." Pearlet nodded with a stern face and as she tried to understand the words and decipher the question from the dog bite lecture.

The lawyer continued to smile and lectured to both Pearlet and Tarsal. "The incisors are relatively small located in the front of the mouth and used for nipping. The canine teeth are long and sharp which is used to stab and tear meat. The teeth are responsible for producing punctures and lacerations, which is the common doggie bite cases. The premolars teeth are small, and hook-like which is used to hold onto its live or dead prey. The molars are small, cusp-shaped teeth which is used to crush the prey. The carnassial teeth are cusped and when closed together form like a pair of sewing scissors, which is used to sheer into a live or dead prey. Now, a doggie bite injury is called a 'hole and tear combination' in which the canine teeth anchor the victim's body part and the other teeth bite, sheer, and tear off the external skin. And there will be set of deep or shallow puncture wounds near the doggie bite wound also."

"Yes. Yes." She continued to nod and faked a smile at the talkative lawyer as she did not understand the police chief test question.

The lawyer continued to smile and lectured. "A doggie bite from a large breed of dog is inflicted with mighty great force like Almighty God," he chuckled. "However, there are not many documented scientific studies on the amount of force exerted by the closure of the dog's mouth on a human bone. But the Pit Bull breed dog can crush the bone of a dairy cow. But that's beside the point, right here and right now!" He softly chuckled with a grin to Pearlet.

Tarsal pointed down in the face on the short lawyer with a grin. "You are beside the medical, legal, economic, financial, mental, and spiritual points, sir. Geez! Have I left one out? I don't think so," laughing.

The lawyer continued to smile and lectured to both Pearlet and Tarsal. "A doggie bite wound will consist of an irregular wound edge and include a puncture mark and numerous lacerations which is finally shown as a dental arch print from the front row of doggie teeth. This is the primary physical characteristic which is used to distinguish a doggie bite wound from another injury which has been caused by some other means. Other factors include the temperament of the family pet for biting a family member or a stranger and the physical features within the locale, where the incident took place. The incident could involve a chain link fence. So, the height of the fence or the spacing between the iron bars is considered part of the locale in order to determine which family pet is the culprit here from the dog bite."

Tarsal laughed. "Who is the prick here? Yeah, I agree with that statement."

The lawyer exhaled with annoyance and sneered at Tarsal. "I am a dog bite litigation lawyer, sir. The victim's dog has escaped from the house and ran away, hiding within their neighbor's yard. Then the neighbor went outside and accidentally found the lost dog. The neighbor reached down and tried to help the lost dog. The dog bit the man's hand. The friendly neighbor is suing for millions of US dollars from his pain and suffering. This is not a laughing matter, Mr. Police Officer."

"I'm a police detective." Tarsal laughed then gasped in shock, turning to scan an empty police lobby with his new understanding. The police station was empty of working bodies, including Police Chief Melum, because she had set up an administrative police chief test. He returned back to see the lawyer and nodded with a grin. "I do believe that the hot gossip has hit the city streets with milk chocolate frosting, as they say. You are referencing any specific of dog bite that might have come from one of renter families, who had owned a family pet and rented from Wallis Wollen."

She gasped in shock. Tarsal had figured out the series of convoluted police legal questions coming from the difficult lawyer tester. And she had missed that particular question. She had to listen more closely and answer more quickly.

Tarsal nodded with a smile. "And Wallis Wollen is a billionaire with billions and billions of US dollars. So, you found out that he owned the three murder houses from the three murdered family unit."

The lawyer nodded with a smile to Tarsal and continued to lecture. "As I was saying here, if the conflicting dog bite testimony is related to the face on the dead male, then the height position on the person is of great importance here during a dog bite litigation case. Was the person standing upright from the jumping dog? Was the person bent over the grounded dog? Was the dog tall enough to reach the face on the injured victim, if the victim was standing upright from the floor? We need to measure the standing height of the dog against the height of the victim. The measurement of the distance between the dog's canine teeth and compare with the distance between the puncture wounds on the victim's body. Has that been accomplished yet?"

Pearlet gasped in alarm. She didn't know the answer to the test question, but she wanted to guess. And she prayed her answer was the correct one. She smiled. "The answer is no." The lawyer nodded with a smile to Pearlet. She exhaled with a grin with the right answer.

Tarsal turned then sneered at Pearlet for the lucky guess. The answer was a fifty-fifty chance of an affirmative or a negative. She had beaten him to the question. His mind quickly analyzed how many questions she had gotten correct.

Behind the police office information counter, the short, lean lawyer continued to smile and lectured to both Pearlet and Tarsal. "Finally, my last approach in forensic analysis of the doggie bite is to reconstruct that terrible human event by using the bone skull of a deceased dog and positioning the skull against the live or dead body part that has been bitten. This method is very common and useful. You can sense and see how the dog was positioned for the moment the terrible canine incident had occurred. I have recently won a legal doggie bite case, where the face of the plaintiff was resting down on the clean floor. Thus, accused dog could not have bitten the victim. Now, I am ready to see the locale to determine if this is a doggie bite as I am a doggie bite litigation lawyer to, boot," chuckling.

Tarsal gasped in alarm then turned to see the nose profile on Pearlet. She continued to stare with a puzzled brow at the lawyer and she didn't know how to address the examination question. He returned back with a wink to the lawyer and tossed both of his arms in the air with soft laughter. "Now, I get and got this one right."

She turned and gasped at the nose profile on Tarsal, "What! What have you got right, Tarsal? What have you figured out right here?"

"Come with me, sir!" Tarsal scooted down the information desk counter then stopped, lifting up the bar panel, where the lawyer could enter into the police work space. "You and I need are ready to tour the morgue storage room, where we can wrap up your final question."

"What!" Pearlet gasped in shock and shook her curls. She should have thought of that quick police solution, before her rival police detective Tarsal.

At 10:33 am, Tarsal held the true refrigerator door open for the visiting lawyer then slightly bowed down at his fit waistline, thrusting an arm into the dark room with a smile. The short, lean unnamed lawyer carefully entered the dark, cold room and narrowed both of his eyelids at the semi-dark space. "What is this awful place? The place smells terrible."

Tarsal stood upright with an evil laugh and released the door, slamming it into the face on Pearlet. She reached out and grabbed the metal door without suffering a broken nose, opening the door, moving inside with a loud sneer at the back spine on Tarsal.

Tarsal shuffled ahead of the visiting lawyer to address the test question then quickly spun around, extending both of his arms even with the steel floor, saying with a smile. "Well, this is not a court room. This is a morgue murder spot." He spun around with a grin, moved ahead, and stopped, standing in front of the Wollen table with five dead people.

The lawyer stopped d stared with a gasp at the first dead victim. "This is...is not a dog bite."

Tarsal pointed at each dead body with a smile. "And there is not any type of conflicting verbal testimony here, sir. Each victim is dead and not buried, well, on top of a slab of cold ice, until the criminal is found and convicted of this five-person murder. Let us discuss the first tiny victim.

"The victim is a baby at the age of ten months, who was seated in her baby high chair. The victim was not standing beside or in front of their family dog or another family dog. The baby victim was not bending down or leaning down over the high chair arm to touch their family dog or another family dog. I do believe that I have addressed that question about the height of the family dog. I do not see any teeth marks or puncture wounds or claw marks. I would conclude that this is not a doggie bite case but a plain old murder case. I would like to thank you for asking the most important questions and visiting with me at the Felton Police Department. Do you have any more questions for me?"

"No! No! No!" The lawyer back stepped from the row of dead people and covered his mouth, gagging into the white tinted handkerchief, spinning around to face the steel entrance door. "I want out of here. I'm ready to leave. How do I get outta of this horrible place?" He dashed ahead towards the dark colored wall with fear and horror. Pearlet stood beside the hidden entrance door and reached over, pulling open the handle. The light from the lounge room blinded a pair of sensitive eyeballs. The lawyer rushed ahead with a worried brow. "I remember the way out. I want outta of here, this horrible, horrible place," he exited the morgue storage room then dashed ahead towards the red metal door, leaving the lounge room and then the police station alone.

Inside the morgue storage room, Pearlet spun around with a sneer then moved ahead with a sour frown, exiting through the same open archway, moving into the brightly lit lounge room. She shouted out loud in fury at Tarsal, without seeing his smile, "You did that on purpose. You scared the tester. And you cheated. You cheated with your vile answer."

Tarsal reached out and caught the edge on the heavy door, moving ahead with a smile, following her back spine, chucking with amusement. "Now, what have I cheated on, new Felton Police Detective Pearlet? I do not know what you mean...or your mean too." He laughed out loud and followed her back spine with delight.

At 10:37 am, Pearlet continued to march ahead with a sour frown into the lounge room setting and continued yelling out Tarsal, "You know what I mean. I can't believe that you even figured out that it was a Police Chief Administrator test. You acted extremely rude and dumb to the nice tester. I think the nice tester is mad or something at you."

He strolled ahead with a smile. "It didn't take me too long to figure out the tester. The tester liked using the word, doggie, too many dog-gone times," Tarsal laughed. His mobile telephone sung with a series of musical notes. He continued to move ahead and whipped out his mobile telephone, reading the new text message with a smile, "My! My! My! I'm requested to attend a meeting with Police Chief Melum at the Gardenville auditorium, right now. I wonder why that would be. Do you know why I will become then, not police chief Pearlet?"

She had received a text message on her personal mobile telephone also and continued to move ahead, opening the door and then exited the lounge room. She rushed ahead with a sour frown towards the entrance doors, shouting back to Tarsal, without seeing his smile again. "Well, I'm going to the same meeting. So, I guess we both will learn about the new meeting at the Gardenville auditorium," she exited the police station.

He stopped and stared down at the text message that had personally came from Police Chief Melum, looking up with a grin and surveyed the police station, which would become his new home and his responsibility for the next forty years or until his death. Tarsal moved ahead with a smile. "Life is good!" He exited the police station. He slowly strolled ahead towards his parked pickup truck as the only parked vehicle in the lot. Then he realized that Pearlet had parked her personal vehicle in the rear parking lot on purpose to hide her snooping and spying techniques. He would fire police detective Pearlet from the Felton Police Department, but she and her ideas were both smart and fresh, where newly reassigned police detective Zimb was both slow and dumb. Tarsal stopped and reached out, opening the unlocked truck door, sliding up into his driver's seat and cranked the engine, staring at the thicket of green and brown woods. The rolling smooth hillsides in the tiny town of Felton were filled with thicket of shade trees, like this one, that could hide or house any insane person or any lost pet or any strange thing. He shook his curls and shivered in fright, tossing off his mental morbid thoughts then smiled at his new upcoming announcement at the Gardenville auditorium.

At 10:40 am, Tarsal slowly rolled out from the parking lot then entered the named roadway Walker Chapel, carefully steering down an empty street and nodded with a smile of great luck. He had accomplished his life-time goal. He would be crowned the new Felton Police Chief in a few more minutes in front of the natives of Felton. Everyone was sitting on top of the tiered bleachers at the auditorium, waiting for the new king.

On Stouts Road, he stopped at the red light at the traffic intersection and waited for the new green light, like a legal abiding citizen, as he was going to be the new police chief. He must obey the laws and present as a good role model for the young children within his hometown of Felton.

The light turned into bright green hue. He slowly turned off the main highway at the traffic intersection without a set of on-coming traffic, which could create a terrible automobile accident.

At 10:44 am, on the roadway named Main Street, Tarsal tenderly pressed the gasoline pedal and slowly drove down the familiar county street heading towards the city of Gardenville.

The auditorium building, within the small rural town of Gardenville located in the northeast direction three miles from the Felton police station. He would arrive there fashionable late, as they say.

Police Chief Melum had also enjoyed showing up late for every police news conference, so the media reporters and television cameras watched her body movement, capturing her full attention. Thus, the new police chief of Felton would continue that annoying tradition.

Today, Tarsal would receive his day of glory and the infamous "fifteen minutes of fame," as they say.

Tarsal had found the murderous crowbar and then had arrested murderer Wallis Wollen immediately, sealing the same prisoner back into a jail cell in Felton police station, without the flash bulbs and the microphones coming from the nosy media reporters. He didn't care about the limelight of fame, not the bright light of justice.

At 10:46 am, driving from an empty roadway, Tarsal released the gasoline pedal then slowly coasted down the roadway with a chuckle, gently slamming down on the brake pads almost into a stop. He slowly turned off the city street of Main Street into a crowded parking lot that displayed rows and rows of colorful parked vehicles consisting of law-abiding natives from the two cities of Felton and Gardenville.

Every adult individual sat inside the auditorium space. The auditorium building had been specially constructed holding local activities, such like, a basketball court for fun, a fitness center for fun exercise, and numerous meeting rooms for fun parties.

He slowly drove around the full parking lot wearing a sour frown. "The king is here, but he can't find a parking spot," he stopped at the roadway then sailed across the street and finally parked at the local high school. He killed the engine and opened the door, sliding down onto the smooth pavement, gently closing the door. Then he opened the rear door and reached back inside the rear bench seat. He had forgotten to store the murder weapon, so Police Chief Melum could take it back to the police station for storage, after the grand meeting. Since new Police Chief Tarsal would be too busy chatting with all the Felton natives about his new position, signing autographs, taking newspaper and internet photographs.

Beside the pickup truck, Tarsal gently closed shut the door then spun around with a smile, slowly moving ahead, turning to scan the parking lot for any trouble, like a trained police officer. He crossed the non-busy roadway and strolled ahead through the parking lot which was filled only with colorful parked vehicles.

At 10:49 am, Tarsal swiftly moved ahead and passed the closed entrance doors, shadowing the side wall on the three-story Gardenville auditorium building and then stopped, standing in front of two tan colored uniformed police officers. This was the secret passageway for Melum and all her police officers, during a critical police department news conference. One of the uniformed police officers lifted up both of naked palms and shook his police officer's cap in silence at Tarsal. Then other police officer pointed back towards the entrance doors with a nod in silence to Tarsal.

Tarsal back stepped and raised one palm with a smile and a nod in silence. So, he was supposed to enter through the set of front doors, making his grand entrance as the new Felton Police Chief. He spun around with a soft chuckle then swiftly moved ahead as he was very fashionable late now. He didn't want Melum angry at his misplaced fun intentions.

Tarsal quickly dashed around the building corner and raced ahead towards the entrance doors turning into the closed door with a gasp. He slammed into the hard metal with a heavy grunt and then back stepped with a string of soft curse words, reaching down, twisting the door knob.

The door flung open. He entered through the open archway and swiftly moved down a long hallway which was empty of people also. Each side wall of burnt orange paint presented a horizontal row of mounted colorful framed pictures that displayed each current and dead member of something. He raced down the hallway and then turned, stopping and stood in front of a set of closed doors again. He reached out and grabbed, twisting the door knob.

One side door flung open. Tarsal gasped at the massive amount of faces and sweaty bodies inside the overcrowded auditorium, smelling the bad body odor, reaching up and tapped his two nose holes. He dropped his hand with a fake smile and slowly moved down a wide, empty aisle that had been created with air molecules and sandwiched in-between numerous columns with hundreds of colorful metal folding chairs. Each chair and every bleacher seat were filled with a folded body with a stern face. He moved ahead and stared at the elevated platform stage.

In front of the stage, a row of individual naked wooden tables made of a long table which held a member from the current reigning Felton and Gardenville Chamber of Commerce, including each mayor and the Gardenville police chief as each one stared with a stern face at a delay police detective Tarsal, in silence.

The two eyeballs on an upright and advancing Tarsal darted towards the side wall, near the open small side room, without seeing a food table. However, that was the direction and the attitude of the Felton Chamber of Commerce, stay cheap with money and do not eat a plate of warm food at any formal or informal meeting. Tarsal will be changing both that direction and attitude, after this announcement today inside auditorium. His two eyeballs returned and stared at the solo police officer. In the middle of the aisle, in front of the row of naked wooden chairs, a tan colored uniformed police officer stood silent and lifted both of his naked palms in the air at an advancing Tarsal, pointing one limb towards a short, naked dark colored wooden table. Tarsal turned to the side, stopped, and faced a naked wooden table that contained Police Chief Melum and Police Detective Pearlet, who were sitting a few apart in-between an empty chair on top of a red tinted metal chair.

Melum stood upright from her metal chair then scooted out from the wooden table while allowing Tarsal entrance at the Felton police table. He moved passed Melum then slid sideways, sitting down with a smile, wiggling with delight, making the metal sing in musical tones of pain. He placed the plastic bag with the bloody crowbar on top of the empty wooden table surface while staring at the front of the room, where a long naked wooden table stood, without the cute white tinted tablecloth and housed each chamber member.

Melum slid back down and wiggled sideways, making a set of metal pain sounds within her red tinted folding chair while staring at the forward long table, which held a chamber member. Tarsal leaned over with a grin and whispered into the smooth cheekbone on Melum, still staring at each chamber member. "What's happening here?"

Melum continued to sit and stared at each chamber member, saying with a stern face. "I don't know. I was told to attend a meeting, this morning at eight o'clock, here at the Gardenville auditorium. When I arrived here, I ate my breakfast meal, inside one of the meeting rooms, all alone and lonely. Then, after waiting for several hours of wasted time, I was invited here inside the auditorium. And I have been sitting here since..."

Tarsal gasped in shock. "Then you did..."

"Hello!" The female mayor of Gardenville sat in the middle of the long table beside the mayor of Felton, without displaying the dangling symbolic tablecloth, and reached over and slapped her gavel on top of the hard wood. "The meeting will begin. Please start!" She nodded to the person on the opposite of the room.

The auditorium layout provided rows of wooden bleachers around three solid naked, concrete walls with a center wooden stage for a live play performance or a tiny church choir of elementary students. Today, the wooden bleachers were pulled out and filled with numerous concerned natives from both cities of Felton and Gardenville. The usually empty basketball court floor contained columns of colorful metal chairs with center aisle empty space for walking or standing, not sitting or eating. On one side of the columns of colorful metal chair, a short naked wooden table stood in the center of the floor design and held in sitting order, Felton Police Chief Melum, Felton Police Detective Tarsal, and Gardenville Police Detective Pealet.

On the opposite side of the auditorium room, in front of the other column of colorful metal chairs, a second short naked wooden table stood in the center and contained two colorful metal chairs. The first chair blue tinted held Wallis Wollen sitting with his married wife Wilbeanie. His two biological teenagers sat in a blue tinted metal chair facing the back spine of each parent while typing at the tiny keyboard, on their individual mobile telephones, mouth drooling in silence, like usual.

Wallis slowly stood upright from his squeaky metal chair wearing a white tinted linen suit without a necktie and a tan colored knit shirt, and a pair of tan colored loafers without a pair of socks and carefully scooted sideways from the edge of the wooden table, spinning around to face the audience members. He extended both of his arms and held them parallel to the wooden floor, saying with a smile. "Welcome to all, the citizens of Felton and Gardenville. I will like for you to know that I had personally contributed some of my money for the building this fine auditorium. I was reared and raised here in the city of Gardenville, like a tiny piglet," he laughed with the audience members, slapping his chest with a smile. "And here, I stand, right now. I am accused of murdering three family units that included a mother, a father, and three children for a total of fifteen individual souls. May heaven bless each soul! Amen!" The audience members stared at Wollen and softly mumbled in prayer or shouted out loud the word, amen, also.

On the opposite side of the room, at the short long wooden table, Melum leaned over then frowned into the nose profile on Tarsal. "Why is Wallis out of his jail cell?"

Pearlet turned a smile to see the audience then viewed Wallis. "I don't know, but it is entertaining for me and the audience."

Tarsal stared and sneered at Wallis. "This is his last hurrah, before the electric chair of death, in the capital city of Montgomery, in a few more months."

Wallis dropped both of his arms and slapped his pair of white colored expensive trousers, saying with a smile to the audience. "Where should I start? I know. I will start at the top with each police charge. I am charged with the cold-blood murder of three entire families, because each murdered family unit had lived inside one of my rental houses. To address that legal question, I would like to introduce my property lawyer." He pointed at the closed auditorium doors then clapped with a smile. "Come on down, property lawyer!" Each chamber member, every audience member and the table of police officers spun around with a smile and stared at the closed auditorium doors.

The auditorium double doors slid open and revealed a tall, sexy, pretty adult female. She performed a prissy motion away from the open archway and tossed her hand and her smile at audience members. The other hand held a briefcase. Some members of the audience, mostly males, stood upright from the seat, cheering out loud with a series of loud whistles and foot stomps for the pretty lawyer. The female presented a tall and slender body frame with a head of blonde long hair, a tone of golden suntan, and a pair of brown eyes wearing a short sexy gray tinted dress, a pair of matching fashion high heels on a pair of naked suntanned legs, toting a matching leather briefcase.

On the police table, Melum spun back inside her metal chair second while creating loud metal pains and leaned over, frowning into the nose profile on Tarsal, "Why is going on here, Tarsal?"

Tarsal spun around from the walking lawyer inside his metal chair first with a worried brow and stared at Wallis. "I don't know."

Pearlet spun around in her metal chair creating a set of metal pain sounds, wearing with a worried brow and stared at Wallis. "I don't like this."

The blonde hair lawyer stopped in front of Wallis with a wink then spun around with a smile, standing beside her client. She leaned over and kissed his cheekbone, pulling back with a smile, staring at the audience. The audience of males sounded with hoots and claps. The audience of females sounded with boos.

The wife of Wallis stood upright from her metal chair and continued to stand behind short table, jabbing her fat finger with a string of loud curse words at the pretty lawyer. The blonde-haired, suntanned, sexy, tall female lawyer smiled at the audience. "I am the property attorney for Mr. Wallis Wollen, and I will explain the legal arrangement between the deceased people," she opened the lip on briefcase and reached down, pulling a set of white papers near her smile. "I hold in my hand three legal financial contracts. The summary on each legal contract is the same. It states that each renter inside the rental house which is owned by Wallis Wollen is only required to pay one US dollar bill on the date of January second each calendar year for the entire family to live inside his rental house. Wallis Wollen did not ever charge more than one US dollar bill and he gladly paid the mortgage note on the house and the land property and the property taxes on the house and land and the house insurance for each rental house on each one of his rental homes as he is a rich man and loves it."

At the police table, Melum gasped in worry and stared at the nose profile on Wallis. "O no!"

Tarsal gasped in worry and stared at Wallis. "O yes!"

Pearlet gasped in worry and stared at Wallis. "O dear!"

Wallis leaned over and hugged her tiny waistline and tossed his hand in the air, saying with a smile. "I have been charged with arson. To address that legal question, I would like to introduce my insurance lawyer." He pointed at the closed auditorium doors with a smile. "Come on down, insurance lawyer!"

Each audience member and the table of police officers spun around with a smile and stared at the closed auditorium doors. The auditorium double doors slid open and revealed a tall, sexy, pretty adult female. She performed a prissy motion away from the open archway and tossed her hand in the air and her smile at the audience. The other hand held a leather briefcase. The standing audience members continued to cheer out loud with whistles and foot stomps for the pretty lawyer. The female displayed a tall, slender body frame with a head of black tinted hair, a tone of dark skin, and a pair of brown eyes wearing a short sexy red tinted dress, a pair of matching fashion high heels on a pair of naked dark-skinned legs, toting a matching leather briefcase.

At the police table, Melum spun back around inside her metal chair and stared at the nose profile Wallis. "O no!"

Tarsal spun around inside his metal chair with a worried brow and stared at the nose profile on Wallis. "O yes!"

Pearlet spun around with a worried brow and stared at Wallis. "O dear!"

The brown-haired lawyer stopped in front of Wallis with a wink then spun around with a smile, standing beside her client. She leaned over and kissed his cheekbone, pulling back with a smile, staring at the audience. The audience of males sounded with hoots and claps. The audience of females sounded with boos. The wife of Wallis continued to stand and jabbed her fat finger with a string of loud curse words at the pretty lawyer. The black haired, dark skinned, sexy, tall female lawyer smiled at the audience. "I am the insurance lawyer for Mr. Wallis Wollen, and I who will explain the insurance arrangement between the deceased people. His rental home at 2404 Stouts Court had been destroyed by a gas fire in the kitchen that consumed the entire house and killed each family member. He owns the rental house and will declare the rental house damaged. However, Wallis Wollen is going to tear down and rebuild that house, giving the new house to the blood relatives of the deceased family members and all the collected insurance monies also. He is a rich man and loves it." The audience applauded with cheers and smiles.

Tarsal frowned at the pretty lawyer, "O yes!"

Pearlet wringed her hands and stared at the pretty lawyer, "O dear!"

Melum gasped with worry and stared at the pretty lawyer, who blocked the nose profile on Wallis. "O no!"

Wallis leaned over and hugged the tiny waistline on the insurance lawyer smiling at the audience. "I have a set of damaged rental homes which is not a crime," he laughed with the audience.

Tarsal frowned at the pretty lawyer, "O brother!"

Pearlet wringed her hands and stared at the pretty lawyer, "O dear!"

Melum frowned and stared at Wallis. "O sister!"

Wallis laughed. "But to address my legal situation, I would like to introduce my house construction lawyer." He pointed at the closed auditorium doors with a smile. "Come on down, house construction lawyer!"

Each audience member and the table of police officers spun around with a smile and stared at the closed auditorium doors. The auditorium double doors slid open and revealed a tall, sexy, pretty, adult female. She performed a prissy motion away from the open archway and tossed her hand in the air and her smile to the audience. The other hand held a leather briefcase. The standing audience members continued to cheer out loud with whistles and foot stomps for the pretty lawyer. The female was tall and slender with a head of red tinted hair, a tone of pink skin, and a pair of green eyes wearing a short sexy black tinted dress, a pair of matching fashion high heels on a pair of naked pale skinned legs, toting a matching leather briefcase.

On the police table, Melum spun back around inside her chair and stared at first lawyer blocking the body of Wallis. "O no!"

Tarsal spun back around inside his chair with a worried brow and stared at first lawyer, who was blocking Wallis. "O yes!"

Pearlet spun back around in her chair, wearing with a worried brow and stared at first lawyer. "O dear!"

The red-haired lawyer stopped in front of Wallis with a wink then spun around with a smile, standing beside the land property lawyer. She leaned over then kissed on the female land property lawyer, pulling back with a smile, staring at the audience. The audience of males sounded with hoots and claps. The audience of females sounded with boos. The wife of Wallis continued to stand and jabbed her fat finger with a string of loud curse words at the pretty lawyer. The red haired, pink skinned, sexy, tall female lawyer smiled at the audience. "I am the house construction lawyer for Mr. Wallis Wollen. He is going to re-construct the damaged houses at 3001 Heaton Court and 701 Walker Court. If there is not an available blood kin family member to occupy each newly re-built house, then Wallis Wollen will donor the house and property to his church. Then the church can have the property." The audience applauded with cheers and smiles.

Tarsal frowned at the side profile on the house construction lawyer, "O yes!"

Pearlet wringed her hands and stared at the same lawyer, "O dear!"

Melum gasped with worry and stared at the same lawyer. "O no!"

Wallis frowned to the audience. "I have been accused of killing my own biological blood brother. I have been found in a lie also. The day my brother had been brutally killed, I had been seen running away from the back yard of my own house and I smelled of heavy cologne. And I killed their family pet, because I was saving the life of my true love. My true love, please, come into the auditorium and show yourself to me," he waved both of his arms in the air and smiled at the closed auditorium doors.

At the police table, Tarsal gasped in shock and stared at the row of people including Wallis, "What!"

Pearlet wringed her hands and stared at the same row of people, "What!"

Melum gasped with worry and stared at the same row of people. "What!"

Each audience member spun around with a smile and stared at the closed auditorium doors. The auditorium double doors slid open and revealed a tall, sexy, pretty, adult female. She performed a prissy motion away from the open archway and tossed her hand in the air and her smile at the audience. The standing audience members continued to cheer out loud with whistles and foot stomps for the pretty female. The female was tall and slender with a head of brown tinted hair, a tone of pale skin, and a pair of gray eyes wearing a short sexy white tinted dress, a pair of matching fashion high heels on a pair of naked pale skinned legs.

Wallis pointed at the open entrance doors. "This is my girlfriend or my mistress or my future wife. I am divorcing you, Wilbeanie." He turned and frowned at his legally married wife.

Behind the second short wooden table, his short, overweight wife Wilbeanie continued to stand and frowned with fury, waving both of her fat arms in the air. "What! No, you are not." The two teenagers continued to sit behind their mother and typed on their individual mobile telephones, mouth drooling, in silence, like usual.

The brown-haired girlfriend stopped in front of Wallis with a wink and leaned down, kissing his lips, pulling back with a smile. She spun around and cuddled her boyfriend, leaning over and kissed the cheekbone on the insurance lawyer, pulling back with a smile, staring at the audience. The audience of males sounded with hoots and claps. The audience of females sounded with boos.

Wallis turned and frowned at his wife. "Yes, I do not love you anymore, Wilbeanie. I have been seeing my new love every evening behind my house inside the Black Creek Park for the past two months. We go on biking trips and late afternoon food picnics and slow walks and talks through the woods for hours and hours and then I have to return back home to that ugly fat woman. I would like to introduce my divorce lawyer." He tossed one arm in the air and nodded to the auditorium doors with a smile.

On the police table, Melum gasped in shock and stared at the row of people with Wallis. "O no!"

Tarsal gasped in shock and stared at the same row of people. "O yes!"

Pearlet gasped in shock and stared at the same row of people. "O dear!"

Each audience member and the table of police officers spun around and stared at the closed auditorium doors. The auditorium double doors slid open and revealed a tall, sexy, pretty, adult female. She performed a prissy motion away from the open archway and tossed her hand in the air and her smile at the audience. The other hand held a leather briefcase. The standing audience members continued to cheer out loud with whistles and foot stomps for the pretty lawyer. The female was tall and slender with a head of strawberry blonde hair, a tone of peachy skin, and a pair of violet eyes wearing a short sexy yellow tinted dress, a pair of matching fashion high heels on a pair of naked peachy skinned legs, toting a matching leather briefcase.

On the police table, Melum spun back around inside her metal chair and stared at the row of lawyers, who blocked the upright body on Wallis. "O no!"

Tarsal spun back around inside his chair with a worried brow and stared at the same row of people. "O yes!"

Pearlet spun around with a worried brow and stared at Wallis. "O dear!"

The strawberry-blonde haired, peach-colored skin, sexy, tall female lawyer stopped with a smile and handed the white tinted legal document, saying to Wilbeanie. "I am the divorce lawyer for Mr. Wallis Wollen, and I will handle his divorce from you. There is no need for a court date. You will get nothing for Mr. Wollen," she moved ahead with a smile and stopped in front of Wallis with a wink, leaning down, kissing his lips and pulled back with a smile. She spun around and cuddled next to the house construction lawyer, leaning over and kissed the smooth female cheekbone on the insurance lawyer, pulling back with a smile, staring at the audience. The audience of males sounded with hoots and claps. The audience of females sounded with boos.

Wallis nodded with a smile over the shouts of the audience. "I am getting a divorce."

Wilbeanie slapped her chest with a smile and stared at her legally married husband. "I am getting everything."

He turned and grinned at his legally married wife, shaking his bone skull. "I am afraid not, future former married wife. I have all of my money bank accounts well hidden in numerous overseas bank account, without your personal name. I have not paid the mortgage payment on our house for months now. Thus, our house is going into bank foreclosure here within the city of Felton and the great State of Alabama. Now, I would like to present my bank lawyer."

Wilbeanie gasped in worry and looked down at the divorce papers. "What!" The two teenagers continued to sit behind their mother and typed on their individual mobile telephone while mouth drooling in silence, like usual.

Each audience member and the table of police officers spun around and stared at the closed auditorium doors. The auditorium double doors slid open and revealed a tall, sexy, pretty adult female. She performed a prissy motion away from the open archway and tossed her hand in the air and her smile at the audience members. The standing audience members continued to cheer out loud with whistles and foot stomps for the pretty female. The female was tall and slender with a head of amber tinted hair, a tone of bronze skin, and a pair of amber eyes wearing a short sexy brown tinted dress, a pair of matching fashion high heels on a pair of naked bronze skinned legs, toting a matching leather briefcase.

On the police table, Melum spun back around and stared the line of lawyers that blocked Wallis. "O no!"

Tarsal spun back around with a worried brow and stared at the same line of people. "O yes!"

Pearlet spun back around with a worried brow and stared at the same line of people. "O dear!"

The amber haired, bronze skinned, sexy, tall female lawyer stopped with a smile and handed a second white tinted legal document, saying to Wilbeanie. "I am the bank lawyer for Mr. Wallis Wollen. The bank is repossessing the house and all the cars tomorrow morning. You must be out of the house at midnight tonight. Or you can sleep in the woods," she spun around with a smile, moved ahead, and stopped in front of Wallis with a wink, leaning down and kissed his lips, pulling back with a smile. She spun around and stood beside the divorce lawyer, leaning over and kissed her cheekbone, pulling back with a smile, staring at the audience. The audience of males sounded with hoots and claps. The audience of females sounded with boos. The wife of Wallis sat back down in the metal chair and sobbed with tears, reading the two legal documents, without money and a warm place to sleep.

Wallis tossed his hand in the air then down, slapping his chest, bowing his chin. "The day, my brother was murdered by some evil person. May God rest his soul!" He looked up with a smile to see the audience. "I saw his angry dog come running right for me. Then I realized the dog had seen my girlfriend. The dog was chasing after her, not me. I have known that dog, since a six-week-old puppy. The dog had thought my girlfriend had killed its loving family members. I had no choice to kill that angry dog that had seen my girlfriend. I showed no mercy. I showed my manly sins here. However, I would like to introduce my criminal lawyer." He tossed his arm in the air then pointed at the closed auditorium doors. Each audience member spun around with a smile and stared at the closed auditorium doors.

On the police table, Melum did not spin around and stared at the line of lawyers, who guarded, protected and blocked the upright body on Wallis. "O no!"

Tarsal did not spin around and stared at the same line of lawyers. "O yes!"

Pearlet did not spin around with and stared with a worried brow at the same line of lawyers, "O dear!"

A gray-haired, bronze-skinned, sexy, tall older female criminal lawyer moved ahead from the enclosed room on the side wall and then stopped, standing in front of the short wooden naked table that held Melum, Tarsal and Pearlet. She did not hold a business briefcase, but a portal tiny microphone penned on her suit jacket, looking down and stared down each set of colorful hair roots, saying with a smile, "Good morning! I am the criminal lawyer for Wallis Wollen." The audience members heard the voice and then swung back around to the front of the room and pointed at the older female while chuckling with the clever surprise.

On the police table, Melum continued to sit in arrogance and looked up with a sour frown to see the criminal lawyer, then looked over to see Wallis in silence. Wallis and his row of lawyers turned and nodded with a smile in silence to the police table with each police officer. Melum turned and frowned at the cheekbone on Tarsal. Tarsal continued to nod and winked at each pretty lawyer, wearing a smile. Wallis was a lucky man to have both money and good taste. Pearlet gasped in shock and looked up, staring with a worried brow at the criminal lawyer for Wallis Wollen, in mouth drooling silence.

The criminal lawyer reached down but did not touch the item, "May I hold the murder weapon please?" The murder weapon, the crowbar was still housed inside the original plastic bag, where the metal was coated in red dried blood and rested on top of the naked table surface. On the pretend prosecution table, Melum reached down scooting up the plastic bag and handed the weapon to the red-haired criminal lawyer in silence.

In front of the pretend prosecution table, the red-haired criminal lawyer accepted the plastic bag with the crowbar, slightly back stepping from the table, wearing a smile to the audience members. "Good citizens of Felton and Gardenville. This is a plastic bag." The audience members sounded with a set of laughs, hoots, claps, and whistles.

On the pretend prosecution table, Pearlet leaned over and whispered into the cheekbone on Tarsal. "What is she doing?"

Tarsal continued to wiggle sideways with a silly smile at each sexy lawyer blocking a tall and ugly Wallis and as his chair sounded with metal pain. "Don't know."

Melum returned back and nodded at Wallis, saying to her police officers. "She is entertaining the prisoner, before his execution death sentence."

The female criminal lawyer did not open the bag but pointed at the object, wearing a smile. "Inside the plastic bag, there is a crowbar. A crowbar is good for numerous purposes. Prying open a crate box or fixing a crooked tire on a weaving bicycle." The audience sounded with a set of loud laughs, hoots, claps, and whistles.

Pearlet continued to whisper into the other cheekbone on Tarsal. "Where is she going with her legal defense for Wallis?"

Tarsal stared and winked at the line of young female sexy lawyers. "Don't know."

Melum sneered into the cheekbone on Tarsal, "What is she doing?"

He continued to wink and flirt with each sexy lawyer. "Don't know."

The older gray haired female criminal lawyer continued to stand in place and pointed at the object, wearing a smile to the audience. "I am not going to open the plastic bag with the crowbar. But I will describe the object inside the plastic bag. The crowbar measures about 24 inches long, weighing 3.8 pounds and one-inch thickness in diameter. The crowbar is made of silver tinted metal. However, part of the silver metal has been covered in real blood." The audience members silenced.

Melum nodded with a smirk and stared directly at a smiling Wallis. Now, his old and ugly female criminal lawyer was accusing her own client of murder by announcing the murder weapon was covered with red blood. Melum rubbed both of her hands together underneath the wooden table, feeling the pretend large wads of cash money flowing over her ten finger pads, once she had completed her first police novel of a serial killer, in the tiny town of Felton. She was about to become rich and famous, quitting her stressful police chief job, tomorrow morning. Well, she should not wait for tomorrow morning to come. Melum will quit her job, right now.

At 12:11 pm in the morning, the pretend moot court setting had been arranged by the Gardenville Chamber of Commerce to appease the worried citizens and ease their mental minds that the serial killer had been found and captured. Now, their home and their neighborhood were both safe and sound again.

And Melum could use this forum to announce her retirement from the Felton Police Department and introduce her new replacement as the new police chief in front of the rows of citizens. She didn't really care to celebrate her upcoming retirement party with a flat white colored frosted cake and a small paper cup of orange juice. She was eager to leave her position with all of her police benefits and start to work on her new police novel. The sooner her novel was finished, the faster the money would be rolling into her personal bank account.

On the pretend prosecution table, his eyeballs turned away from the line of sexy lawyers and as Tarsal looked up to see the older gray haired female criminal lawyer with confusion. His mind couldn't comprehend the legal strategy that the criminal lawyer was employing for her guilty client Wallis Wollen. She was accusing the man of cold-blooded murder, right here, in front of the entire town of Felton.

Pearlet sat upright with a smile and bounced side to side inside the chair as the chair squeaked in metal pain. She rubbed both of her hands underneath the naked wooden long conference table. She had personally captured the serial killer and as the criminal lawyer was announcing the cold blood murder guilt of her client Wallis Wollen. She could feel the pretend thickly padded seat from the pale blue office chair inside the police chief office on her tender fanny cheeks as the newly announced police chief of Felton. Now, Pearlet understood the morning crowded and smelly public forum to expose the serial killer and to announce the new Felton police chief replacement, which was her.

Tarsal continued to sit and stared at the beautiful smile on the criminal lawyer, turning to see the big smile on Wallis Wollen. Tarsal didn't understand their happy face. Wallis was guilty of murdering fifteen individuals in cold blood with that bloody crowbar unless something was wrong. He whispered for his eardrums only. "Something is right."

The criminal lawyer continued to stand in place and pointed to the object, wearing a smile to the audience. "The crowbar is covered in blood which is known as A-positive."

Pearlet wiggled side to side, tossing both of her palms near her smile of excitement. The criminal lawyer was burying her client in front of the entire town of citizens. Wallis would receive a very short court of law trial here in Felton and then his death sentence verdict by the end of the work week. Wallis would be dead by the end of the month and Pearlet would be the new presiding Felton police chief over the entire police and legal affair.

Melum rubbed both of her hands faster which generated heated and itched the palms at the same time. If your hands itched, then you would be receiving tons of cash money, soonest.

Tarsal frowned with confusion while studying the crowbar and then a smiling Wallis.

The criminal lawyer continued to stand in place and pointed to the object, wearing a smile to the audience. "The Wollen family members, who were viciously and savagely murdered, without mercy inside their private residential home, also, was covered in their own blood which is known as A-positive." The audience members sounded with a set of boos and hisses.

Pearlet gasped in shock at the vocal proclamation of guilt. The criminal lawyer had announced that Wallis Wollen was the serial killer, without a fair court trial. Tarsal tilted his chin and stared at Wallis with puzzlement.

Melum lifted up her pair of red tinted hands and patted each one of her cold-feeling cheekbones with the fiery hands. The court trial of Wallis Wollen would be short and sweet, unless one of the good citizens of Felton was armed with a concealed hand gun, right here and right now, inside the auditorium. She softly sniggered at the man's final demise.

In front of the pretend prosecution table and diagonally away from Wallis Wollen, the criminal lawyer continued to stand in place and pointed to the plastic bag, wearing a smile to the audience. "Alas! Or I will say not the last or the least!" She laughed with an evil tone and a wicked smile. "This crowbar is covered in dog blood, which is known and labeled as A-positive."

Melum swiftly stood upright from the chair and gasped at the crowbar. "What?"

Pearlet swiftly stood upright from the chair and gasped at the crowbar. "Impossible!"

Tarsal continued to sit and returned back, gasping in alarm at the crowbar, shaking his blonde-haired curls, in silence.

Sitting behind the back spine on Tarsal, Zimb sat within the first row of orange tinted chairs, inside the auditorium gallery, while whining with a sissy tone at the crowbar. "I read the blood results wrong. I applied the right method, but the clotting looked funny. I referenced the CSI quickie handbook, but I didn't recognize the clotting pattern from my CSI course lessons. So, I looked up each human blood type and...and I found that the dried blood pattern closely matched the human Blood Type A. And I knew that each Wollen family member possessed Blood Type A also. And it put two and two together, without you telling me the secret, Tarsal. You had found the murder weapon from the mysterious murderer. All I had to do was test the red blood. The crowbar was covered in red dried blood. It had to match the Type-A blood on each Wollen family member..."

Tarsal spun around inside his chair making metal pain and human moan sounds, staring with a low sneer at Zimb. "What did you say, Zimb? Did I hear you say something? In which, I do not want you to say to me. You...you read the blood results wrong on the murder weapon, the crowbar. How can you read a blood test result the wrong way? There are only four types of human blood that is represented by the letters A, B, O, and AB. That crowbar is covered in red tinted blood. How is that wrong?" Both Pearlet and Melum sat back down and viewed the dirty floor, overhearing the stirring conversation between Tarsal and Zimb.

On top of the auditorium floor, the criminal lawyer moved ahead then stopped, standing back in front of the pretend prosecution table, smiling down at the rear glowing blonde colored locks on the rear skull on Tarsal and spoke into the penned microphone to the audience members. "Once upon a time, canine blood typing had been formerly known as A-positive. Fast forward into the modern times of today, where the DEA or Dog Erythrocyte Antigen was known as A-positive blood, but it is now broken down into four separate alleles, which are labeled as negative, 11, 12 and 13..."

Tarsal frowned. "What are you saying, Zimb? I didn't understand your set of mumbling words. What are you mumbling about, Zimb?"

The criminal lawyer continued to smile and lectured to the audience. "Let me clarify here for each pair of healthy eardrums. Dog blood and human blood are not the same minerals and cannot be mixed biologically, chemically, legally, emotionally, financially, heavenly, or spiritually. Thus, a dog does not possess a blood type but a set of math numbered antibodies that keep the doggie happy and healthy. A human has four types of lettered blood which is A, B, O, and AB."

Tarsal spun around inside the chair making both more metal pain and human moan sounds, slapping his forehead, staring up at the smart and pretty criminal lawyer. "So, the red colored blood, that is nicely smeared over the metal on that found crowbar, really belongs to the dog's mouth drooling antibodies of A-positive, not a human's blood proteins in A-positive." Pearlet looked up and gasped in shock, seeing the lawyer, feeling more worry and concern about her job and her person.

The criminal lawyer looked down and smiled at Tarsal "Yes, that is correct. And you can view the true doggie, not human laboratory test results coming directly from a real human laboratory company, right here and right now," she reached down into her front pocket on her jacket suit and whipped out an object, slapping a thin brown colored envelope in front of Melum on top of the hard surface, sounding with an evil laugh into the penned microphone. "My client Wallis Wollen is completely innocent. I do believe that all the cold blood murder police charges will be dropped, as of right here, and right now, is that not correct, Police Chief Melum?"

"Yes," Melum looked down and stared at the floor, wearing a worried brow, feeling terrible, hurt, embarrassed, and deeply concerned.

Wallis scooted from the line of pretty lawyers sideways then stopped, standing at the edge of the wooden table, staring with a grin at the trio of incompetent police officers, including Melum, Tarsal, and Pearlet. "I am so sorry for your abuse and misuse and amusement with all of this. However, I must set the non-legal and non-criminal and non-financial record straight, before I leave for my trip to the Caribbean Islands with my new girlfriend. We are getting married this afternoon as my divorce quickly proceeds through the USA court system at a snail's pace." He softly laughed with amusement.

Tarsal turned then nodded with a stern face to Wallis. "No hard feelings! I'm sorry that I accused the wrong man."

Wallis nodded with a smile. "Your apology is accepted, Detective Tarsal. However, your bank account made not feel the same way," he laughed with an evil tone.

Tarsal frowned. "I do have one last police question left, sir."

Wallis chuckled out loud then frowned back at Tarsal. "I have been used and abused and mistreated and still the police detective wants to prosecute and then torment me some more."

He frowned. "It's just a question."

"Then ask me your final police question, Tarsal?"

Tarsal nodded. "Why did you place the bloody crowbar with the dog's blood back into the tool chest inside your brother's garage?"

Wallis laughed and then winked. "That's where I had found it."

Tarsal gasped in shock. "I still don't understand, sir. That crowbar was not your crowbar. So, it belonged to your brother."

He laughed again. "I had been secretly meeting my sexy girlfriend near the stream inside the Black Creek Park. We would go bicycling together. The last time we went bicycling, that old man had rented me a crooked tire on my bicycle. We had ventured too far for me to return back and acquire a new rental bicycle. So, we had walked both bicycles back to the rental booth, instead of riding them. This particular evening, before I met my girlfriend in the woods, I was going to be prepared this time for another crooked tire. I had taken my brother's crowbar from the small tool box inside the garage on the forward wall with my sister-in-law's permission, of course. I do not steal or take for fun or for free. I am a very rich man. I had visited with my sister-in-law inside that bloody kitchen and then announced my divorce plans, which was almost complete but under a disguise of secrecy. I really loved my sister-in-law and my dear biological brother and all of their precious children. I had planned to give them the house and the property, before I left the country and before they tragically died..."

Melum gasped to Wallis. "Do you have those legal documents for that land property arrangement?"

He frowned down at Melum. "No. It was a verbal promise which I had planned to honor. And, now, I have been forced up rush my divorce and my travels from here in Felton, the great State of Alabama, and United States of America. Is that important? What difference does it make now, Police Chief Melum?"

"I was just inquiring," she looked down with a worried brow at the dirty floor.

Wallis smiled. "Well, I wish ya'll good luck and hope you find and capture the other mysterious serial killer. I'm flying away the tiny town of Felton living on a tropical island for the rest of my new wife and my luxurious life of health and wealth. Bye, ya'll!" He moved ahead with a smile with his girlfriend and slowly strolled down the empty aisle of space, waving with happiness to the cheering audience members. The row of pretty lawyers formed a single line and followed behind the back spine on Wallis and his unnamed girlfriend, waving with his hand and his smile to the audience members also, and finally exited through a set of open doors, leaving the auditorium building.

Some of the audience member slowly exited through the same open doors still sounding with a series of hoots, shouts, and claps, following behind the back spine on Wallis and his line of sexy female lawyers. Some of the audience members stayed while standing or sitting and softly chatting while finger pointing at the back spine on Melum, Tarsal, and Pearlet.

At the police table, Melum, Tarsal, and Pearlet continued to sit on top of their individual squeaky and colorful metal chair, without moving, exhaling with frustration and stared down at the empty hard table surface with deep embarrassment.

A loud voice cleared the throat.

Each police officer looked up with a stern face and viewed a new, tall, sexy female in a short orange colored dress, a matching pair of fashion high heeled sandals, a golden tanned body, a head of blonde hair, a pair of blue eyeballs. She looked down and smiled to each police officer, "Hello! I was not introduced by Wallis Wollen and didn't get my daily mouth kiss. But I am the defamation lawyer for Wallis Wollen." Pearlet gasped in alarm. Melum slapped her mouth with both of her cupped hands, starting to sob with her rolling hot tears. Tarsal stared with a sour frown at the pretty girl in silence. The female lawyer stood in place with a smile in silence. Behind her back spine, a row of familiar faces from the city council of Felton and Gardenville left each metal chair on the long wooden table, moved ahead, and then stopped, surrounding beside the female lawyer and the police table, staring down at Melum, Tarsal, and Pearlet, in silence.

Melum, Tarsal, and Pearlet swiftly stood upright from the bench seat one at time and stared with a gasp at the action, before their worried eyeballs.

A column of tall and sexy female lawyers moved out from the side room, that was used to exit from the auditorium, marching one body behind the other. Then, the column of females fanned outward, moved ahead and stopped, standing in-between the lead female lawyer. Each tall and sexy female wore a solid colored short dress of bright red hue with a matching briefcase and a matching pair of fashion high heeled sandals over a pair of long sexy naked legs and a sexy smile in silence. The lead defamation lawyer lifted up her hand and wiggled a piece of yellow tinted piece near her smile, signaling for the row of other tall and sexy lawyers to react.

Each pretty, sexy, female lawyer slowly lifted up her hand and wiggled a matching yellow-tinted, short, folded sheet of paper near her grin. Then each lawyer reached down with a soft chuckle and presented an individual piece of paper to the following individuals: the Felton mayor, Felton Police Detective Tarsal, Gardenville Police Detective Pearlet, the Gardenville mayor, and the Gardenville police chief. Then each female waved her manicured hand to the target with a soft chuckle.

The leader for the group of tall, sexy defamation lawyers handed the piece of paper to Police Chief Melum and said with a smile. "There! You have been served. This is an individual lawsuit for defamation of the person, the character, and the reputation along with all bodily injuries to the handsome face on Wallis Wollen. Defamation is the wicked wrongness of a person's social character. I hope each one of you have a healthy bank account, a nice car, a big house, a pretty set of living room furniture and comfortable bedroom furniture pieces and a closet of designer clothes, because Wallis Wollen is taking it all. Good bye and rotten luck, ya'll!" She back stepped first with a smile as the other tall and sexy defamation lawyers back stepped next from each person and the stationary table. Each one spun around and faced the forward wall, turned to face the side wall showing off a cute nose profile, slowly marching ahead and then the first lawyer turned to face the open archway. The first tall and sexy female lawyer led a straight line with her fellow tall and sexy lawyer females down the wide aisle in silence. Some of the audience males bounced up and down, cheering with loud cat calls, clapping with smiles.

The Felton mayor stood beside Felton Police Chief Melum, turning with a sneer to see her nose profile, extending a red tinted piece of paper. "You're fired, Melum! You lose everything. No more job, time off pay, and health insurance plans. And you don't have to clean out your personal police chief office desk. We did that for you, during your time while eating your breakfast meal here within the Gardenville auditorium," he snapped the fingers. Three aides moved ahead from the same side room and toted an individual white tinted box that housed Melum's personal possessions coming from her former police chief's office, stopped, standing in front of the naked wooden table in silence. The first aide placed the box on top of the naked wood, sidestepping away from the table, spinning around and left the building. Then each aide added their box on top of the other, duplicating the first aide's body movements, leaving the auditorium building.

Melum looked down and stared with a sad face of tears at the dirty floor, holding the red tinted folded piece of paper which was a discharge notification after becoming fired from her nicely paid police chief job.

The mayor scooted around the wooden table then stopped, presenting second red tinted piece of paper to Tarsal. "You're fired, also, Police Detective Tarsal. You lose everything also. My aides have your personal boxes of items also inside the smaller chamber near the exit door. But you can collect them on your way out the door," laughing.

The Gardenville mayor turned and sneered into the smiling face on the Gardenville police chief first then to Pearlet, extending each one of her hands with a red tinted short, folded sheet of paper. "Both of you are an embarrassment to me and our fair city. You, both are fired, as well, Gardenville Police Chief and Police Detective Pearlet Beauton. I am so ashamed of this...this event that I will never mention your proper name again. However, I do not possess boxes of your personal possessions here inside the auditorium. So, you need to leave right now and clean out your office desk." The Gardenville police chief snatched up the red tinted paper in silence then spun away from the mayor, the other chamber members, and the table of police offices, wearing a sour frown, leaving the auditorium through the familiar side entrance.

The mayor slid the second red tinted folded paper over the naked wood towards Pearlet. She stared down releasing her sobs and tears at the colorful fired notification sheet.

Felton Chamber of Commerce President possessed a head of long gray hair, a matching full beard, and a sour frown, back stepping from the semi-crooked circle around the police table, wearing a pair of faded blue jeans, a dark blue colored short-sleeved tee shirt, and a pair of dark blue tinted athletic shoes. He scooted sideways then stopped and stood in the middle aisle space of air in-between the two short wooden tables, clearing his throat with a smile, staring at the empty rows of chairs. "Finally, this awful meeting has concluded with a happy ending for all. But we have a city to run and a community to protect. So, I am here to announce the new police chief of Felton is Zimb..."

"Zimb!" Tarsal spun around with a gasp and stared at his friend Zimb. Zimb slowly stood upright from the hard bench and slapped his chest with a smile in silence.

The Chamber President motioned with his hand and his smile to the man. "Come up here with me, Zimb! I possess the official promotion papers and want to be the first person to shake your hand with the exciting news."

Melum swiftly scooted out from her metal chair and spun around, quickly dashing ahead, exiting the auditorium with her worry and jealousy about losing her good paying job for thirty years.

On the first row of almost empty metal chair, within the auditorium, Zimb scooted out then advanced towards the Felton Chamber President, and finally stopped, shaking the hand, wearing a smile in silence. The Chamber President slammed the hand and nodded with a grin to Zimb, "Congratulation, Police Chief Zimb! Now, get to work and find that serial killer! The tiny town of Felton needs your leadership and your protection. Good luck!" He released Zimb's hand and handed the official paperwork with a nod to Zimb. Zimb continued to stand in place and looked down, reading the new piece of paper with his promotion with a grin in silence.

The Felton Chamber President turned with a sneer and viewed the rear skull on the shorter mayor, calling out loud. "Mayor!" The Felton mayor spun around with a smile and viewed the president, parting his lips, in shock. The Chamber President handed a red tinted sheet of paper and sneered. "You are fired as the present mayor of Felton. The Felton Chamber of Commerce will not tolerate torturing and tormenting a legal aiding citizen for...for what I still do not understand. Get your personal objects out from the mayor's office, right now, before I come over there and toss them myself," he dropped the red tinted paper down on the floor, exhaling with a huff of annoyance and then spun around, pointing to the exit door. He moved ahead with the other chamber members in silence, exiting the auditorium.

The Gardenville Chamber of Commerce President slowly stood upright from the hard chair and pointed towards the same side room that exhibited allure of darkness only. "Mr. Mayor, may I have one word with your person right now!"

The mayor of Gardenville spun around with a gasp and dashed ahead with worry, jabbing her finger at the back spine on the Chamber of Commerce President. She sneered. "Now, you wait a minute here. We did not discuss me during the meeting last night," he disappeared into the small room, where lots of shouting occurred.

Tarsal stared down at the fired notification and exhaled with worry. Zimb scooted sideways then slammed a hip onto the edge on the wooden table, spinning around with a smile, looking down at the blonde hair roots on Tarsal. "Tarsal!"

Tarsal looked up with a fake smile "O! Congratulations, Zimb!"

He smiled. "Tarsal, I need to solve the serial killer mystery. And I need a police detective to do that. Would you come and work for me at the Felton Police Station?"

Tarsal gasped. "But I have been fired."

"And I have been promoted. I'll explain to the Chamber President why I need and can use your police talents."

Tarsal nodded with a smile. "Well, yes, of course, I will come and work for you as the new police chief right now."

Zimb nodded with a smile. "You are hired, Tarsal and Pearlet."

"What?" Pearlet looked up with a gasp and wiped her tears of fears.

Zimb nodded. "Both of you work great as a team. And I need two good police detectives to quickly solve the serial killer mystery. Do you accept the position as a Felton police detective, Pearlet?"

"Yes, of course, I would enjoy working with you, new police chief Zimb." Pearlet smiled.

Zimb smiled. "Excellent! The day is shot. Take the day off from your police work. I need to go back to the police station and explain this mess to the other city employees while announcing your rehiring plan. And I probably am required to fill out some type of city police paperwork to re-hire both of your persons. I don't wanna mess up on my first day as the new police chief of Felton."

Tarsal nodded with a smile. "Great plan, Zimb! I'll come into my police work job tomorrow like planned."

Zimb slapped the chest with a soft growl. "I am called Police Chief Zimb. I want both of you out there at the Wollen murder house at seven in the morning. I wanna know who really murdered that family unit. I am depending on your true police fact finding skills and the truth with all the facts. Do you understand me, police detective Tarsal?"

Tarsal softly sneered and then faked a smile. "Yes, I truly understand you, new police chief Zimb."

"Excellent!" Zimb back stepped with a smile from the table and spun around, moving through the side room with a chuckle.

Pearlet turned and frowned at the nose profile on Tarsal in silence.

Tarsal followed the back spine on Zimb with a growl. "Yes, I truly understand new police chief Zimb."
Friday June 8th

2404 Stouts Court location

Mr. and Mrs. Grady Gubnat Family

Living room setting

7:07 am (early morning)

Hot temperatures with bright sunshine

The CSI van slowed the speed and then rolled to a stop on top of the rough driveway. The door opened. Pearlet slid out from the driver's van and stood on top of the uneven concrete driveway, exhaling with annoyance, staring at the house, a burnt shell of thin walls and black colored poles. She had temporarily lost her police detective job yesterday. Then the new police chief Zimb had given her another chance and offered her a new job with the Felton Police Department. She quickly accepted with a fake smile. Now, she was back on the job looking for the unknown and mysterious serial killer of three murdered families.

She reached over and yanked out the full body yellow tinted CSI suit, dragging it onto the smooth vanilla tinted concrete driveway, struggling inside the two stiff leg holes. She had dressed casual in a pair of white colored walking shorts, a short-sleeved pale blue tinted tee shirt, and a pair of white tinted sneakers. She shuffled the body suit over her waistline and then her chest, slowly dragging the complete body suit up to her neck, slipping each one of her arms down into one of the slotted arm sleeves. She was entering back into the murder house while looking for more hard evidence that would clue her into the true murderer of the Gubnat family.

She reached down and grabbed the plastic helmet staring down at the slightly scratched clear plastic shield face and the ugly design, exhaling with frustration. She hoped that her new police job didn't entail performing CSI work on each tiny Felton murder case. This nasty CSI job had belonged to Zimb. Then he had been promoted by the Chamber of Commerce as the new Felton Police Chief. Now, Pearlet was performing the police function with the old job for Zimb as he was enjoying her missed promotion.

Pearlet donned the helmet and a pair of rubber gloves, pressing down her CSI rubber suit with both of her gloves. "No pockets inside the ugly outer space suit either. I need a place to carry out any hard evidence," she turned and examined the interior contents inside the van.

The van floor was dirty with numerous individual pieces of bloody rubber suits, shoes, and trousers. The CSI gear had spilled and then scattered around the floor, hiding underneath the rows of sitting benches. In the rear compartment, beside the side wall, a stack of white tinted cardboard boxes was nicely folded down, resting against the metal.

"A box will hold the contents. I don't know what I will find inside the murder house." She slowly spun around with a high grunt while wobbling side to side. The rubber suit felt like she was walking in an ocean of water. She slowly wobbled ahead and held her gloved hand on the side of the van, reaching the rear bumper. She slowly turned and moved ahead, scooting in front of the rear doors. She opened the doors and reached inside, pulling out one box, tucking it underneath her armpit. She didn't bother closing the rear doors.

Hopefully, some curious burglar would become intrigued with each blood coated rubber suit and then steal them all. Else, she might be cleaning all of the CSI equipment tomorrow morning with her new Felton police job.

At the rear end on the van, she slowly back stepped from the rear doors and then scooted sideways, facing the correct direction for walking. She slowly moved ahead and strolled down the vanilla concrete driveway, noting the concrete was not marred with fire marks.

She frowned inside the plastic face shield. "Am I supposed to take down notes? No. the CSI team unit did that. I will re-read their notes. If I see something that is not mentioned on their report, then I can always come back out here and snap a pic with my mobile telephone." She slowly moved ahead and surveyed the house.

The house was a one-story ranch style house with a low front porch and four white tinted skinny wooden columns. The old wooden front door was colored in white without a screen or a piece of glass over the wood. The grass was trimmed but appeared ratty with thousands of fire ants. The owners didn't have time or the money to update the grass sod. The house didn't possess a garage or an open car port frame, only a two-car standing concrete driveway that led directly onto an open front porch.

The front of the house had not sustained any fire damage or smoke damage. The brick format looked good. As she continued to slowly move ahead, Pearlet realized this was a false impression. She followed the flat part on the ratty short grass then moved down the side wall on the house and then stopped with a gasp. The front part of the house contained a small living room space which was in front of the kitchen space. The side brick wall from the kitchen space was slowly falling down on the grass, exposing a charred shell of four walls, a ceiling, and the floor, and ruined individual kitchen appliances.

She gagged and then coughed out loud. Her eyeballs could see individual tiny piles of gray ashes. These were the individual body parts from the dead and burnt mother and father as they had tumbled over each other and then dropped down, falling on top of the burning floor.

The CSI team unit could not confirm that the set of biological parents were intoxicated with alcohol, but the surviving relatives had told that the deceased parents were a set of heavy drinkers and enjoyed their home parties. So, the Birmingham CSI team unit had not collected every particle of gray ash unless they had used a wet and dry vacuum cleaner for the nasty job.

She slowly moved ahead and then turned to face the ground while wobbling across the flat but ratty grass soil, stopping at the flat back porch of solid wood which was solid charred planks. The house fire had been stopped there by the brave gang of firefighters from the Felton Fire Department, before the blaze had hit the grass yard and then traveled into forest of trees and bushes.

The pretty but rigid landscape within the city of Felton is tall mountainous-covered wild forest, consisting of groves of tall skinny trees that shed their tree leaves every autumn. The dirt ground below is filled with dead leaves and slimy earthworms, making it difficult for clearing the landscape, without a set of heavy equipment.

Pearlet slowly turned and faced lines of shade trees. The thicket of forest surrounded the row of houses creating a private and nicely manicured back yard. If the fire had escaped and hit the trees, the entire forest would have burned and then spread through Black Creek Park.

When she had jogged from each murder house, Pearlet had entered through the same thicket of forest while detouring out from the park, standing directly in the back yard on 2404 Stouts Court.

The eastern direction from the house exhibited the Black Creek Park. The southern direction faced the city of Felton. The northern direction led towards the city of Gardenville, which was one mile up the roadway. The western direction featured rows of house that were surrounded and hidden within the wildness of more forest.

On top of the flat grass, beside the back porch of partial light and black tinted wooden planks, Pearlet turned back a sour frown and faced the rear door. The door frame was empty. The fire firefighters had ripped off the rear door then entered through the back yard, instead of the front door, saving some of the burning house.

She exhaled with annoyance and slowly lifted up a booted rubber foot, gently pressing down on top of the charred back porch, hearing a crisp creak over the broken crusty planks. The porch was solid and steady. She carefully shifted over the wood while hearing the sharp crisp creaks over each burnt wooden plank and then stood inside the open archway, gagging with disgust, breathing heavy set of breaths.

The interior of the kitchen was solid black. Each appliance had been melted down into an ugly lump of gray steel without steam of smoke or flames. The forward wall displayed some of the colored black hue slowly dropping chunks of burnt plaster on top of the burnt floor. The floor was scorched and rough in black hue like someone has sprayed a fire gun over the wooden planks.

One side wall had burned a gigantic hole into the next room which was a master bedroom. The master bedroom was crispy and toasty in black hue and covered in dried white foam from each firefighter's hose. The other side wall led outside and featured black hue slowly dropping medium-sized chunks from each burnt plaster down on top of the charred floor.

She moved inside while hearing each rubber sole creak over the burnt floor materials and stopped, standing in front of the kitchen counter beside the lumpy stove oven, where a set of closed cabinet drawer stood in silence. She reached out with her glove and touched, yanking open the first cold handle that was covered in black ash, polishing off the ash. The handle dislodged from the wooden drawer and then stuck to the rubber glove. "Geez! This is a mess." She flung her glove in the air and as the metal handle landed down on the floor with a loud clank. Then the quiet room echoed with a sound of scurrying feet and a tone of tiny scratches.

She exhaled with frustration. "Geez! This place already has been invaded by rats." She reached down and grabbed onto the edge on the wooden drawer, using her girly strength, yanking the first drawer open, screaming out loud. She swiftly wobbled backwards with fright. Inside the first drawer, a family of wiggling and gross maggots was consuming the guts on a dead white rat that rested on top of the utensils. "Geez! I need a new job." She lifted a boot and touched the bottom of the drawer, slowly dragging the drawer open. The drawer only contained the dead rat, the family of gray tinted maggots, and the eating and cooking utensils. She slowly shoved the drawer back into place and then slowly opened each drawer underneath the burnt counter top. Pearlet found a second set of wiggling gray tinted maggots that were consuming another dead rat. She left the drawer open and back stepped from the kitchen counter, turning a plastic clear face shield, surveying the rest of the kitchen space.

There were not any more drawers or kitchen cabinets that could be accessed by a hand or foot without a chain saw.

She slowly spun around and carefully wobbled ahead towards the side wall with each rubber shoe creaking into her eardrums. The broken side wall led into the master bedroom. She had accessed the layout on the house through her mobile telephone memorizing the floor plan before entering the house. She stopped and stood in front of the gigantic hole, where she could easily shuffle into the room. The master bedroom was cooked in streaks of black wooden beams and burnt pieces of furniture that was covered in thick streams of white foam. She carefully scanned each piece of furniture, without seeing a surviving kitchen cabinet drawer. Everything was burnt down into piles of ashes. She knew that no person had been sleeping inside this room during the mysterious murder or the mysterious fire blast. She back stepped while hearing a set of creepy creaks from each rubber shoe, and then slowly spun around, moving ahead with more sets of creaks, and finally stopped. She stood inside a wide archway that connected to the small living room. She turned to survey a narrow hallway, seeing a tall obstacle. The upper set of ceiling beams had burned during the fire and then had fallen down, landing on top of the carpet, blocking the entrance into the two doorways.

Pearlet was not taking a chance with her life force while maneuvering the bulky rubber suit around each burnt beam. The newly crowned Felton Police Chief Zimb could come out here in person or send in the fire chief to inspect the dangerous room of burnt walls and black ash. She turned to face the living room setting. The entrance wall held the entrance door which was painted in stark white hue with a long window that exhibited the ratty green tinted yard, the vanilla concrete driveway, and the smooth gray tinted roadway. Heading backwards from the entrance wall, her eyeballs saw that half of each side white painted wall were not burnt, but pleasantly smooth.

One side wall held the broken table that rested on top of the floor, where a large pool of blood had been absorbed into the tan colored carpet from the dead ten-year-old child.

The CSI team unit had theorized that the child had ran then slid underneath the heavy table surface, hiding from the kitchen fire, waiting on his parents to save his life. However, the table surface had broken loose from the two of the legs and then violently crushed down onto the body of the poor child, flattening out each one of his human bone into numerous fragments. His eight pints of human blood had swiftly leaked out and covered the carpet looking like a black burnt spot on top of the tan color.

The rest of the side wall was covered in an array of pretty, geometric streaks of black smoke and black ash over the stark white colored paint. The carpeted floor was coated in spilled food items and beverages, where it stuck down onto the carpet, each wall, and some of the ceiling planks. Each food item smelled with stench and was coated in a swarm of black tinted house flies. And, also, each spilled food item on the wall and the carpet surface displayed a set of tiny prints coming from numerous wildlife animals that had enjoyed the fresh food coming through the open back door.

The opposite side wall contained a row of variety wooden and plastic side tables. Most of the tables displayed an assortment of items on top of the hard surface, such like a single reading lamp or a stack of clean dishes and glass tumblers, for the upcoming birthday party. The other two short, squat tables contained a set of four drawers that was not burnt into a pile of gray ashes. Each individual sitting furniture piece had been lined against the forward wall in a standing row while blocking the same narrow hallway that led into the third tiny private bedroom while providing an empty middle floor for the upcoming birthday party with dancing. Each furniture piece had been burnt into an ugly lump of black, gray, and white and then covered in a set of geometric ugly streaks of dried white colored foam.

She slowly moved ahead while hearing the creep-creak from each one her rubber foot soles then stopped, standing in front of the first wooden table with four closed drawers. She squatted down and opened up the cardboard box, placing the constructed box down on top of the carpet, exhaling with frustration. She continued to squat and turned with a sour frown, reaching out, opening the bottom drawer first and leaned backwards in case of a wild animal attack. She was grateful for the rubber suit and the clear plastic face mask inside the helmet that protected her body, her face, and her sanity.

The interior wooden drawer smoothly slid out and was still intact, exhibiting numerous packaged papers. Her mental mind recorded each item that could be used to pinpoint the murderer. She swiftly gathered each block of thick papers, turning and gently placed down inside the bottom portion. This batch of papers contained the packaged warrants for each kitchen appliance which was useless for pinpointing the murderer. She returned back and finished collecting the rest of the thick plastic packages, loading down into the cardboard box. At this rate, she would fill up the first cardboard box very quickly. The bottom drawer had been emptied. She closed the drawer then reached up, slowly opening the second drawer with a gasp. The top layer of papers was scattered upside down and sideways containing a thick pile of colorful kiddie drawings coming from their dead older children.

She sobbed then held her breath exhaling with a set of heavy sour molecules of air inside the enclosed CSI helmet. She couldn't cry inside the enclosed plastic helmet. Her tears will blind her two eyeballs from the hand work and wet her face, dropping down, tickling her chest which was useless to pinpoint the murderer but effective in murdering her happy emotions. She exhaled with puffs of sadness and reached down, quickly sliding both of her rubber gloves down into the thick pile of lovely childish drawings. She quickly lifted and placed down inside the open cardboard box with a numb brain and a black heart rapidly finishing the job. She had police work to finish without sobbing through the terrible task. She closed the third drawer and then reached up, opening the second drawer.

Inside the second drawer, the thick pile of loose papers contained an assortment of hand printed homework assignment coming from the dead ten-year-old elementary student. She exhaled with a deep breathes then quickly worked, gathering up the piles of papers, placing each group down inside the same open cardboard box. She finished the job and exhaled with sad feelings, looking down inside the box. This box was half-way filled with a tall pile of crooked stacks of papers. The weight of paper was heavy inside the cardboard for her two lean girly biceps. Pearlet could not fill the box up towards the rim, without leaving the box of evidence behind. She slowly stood upright from the floor and stretched her spine upright and straight, leaning back down, grabbed the side handles on the heavy box. She slowly lifted the box and placed it on top of the table surface with a loud grunt.

She turned and stared at the entrance wall, studying the closed front door. She might exit through the front door with the heavy box. She needed a new cardboard box from the van and also needed to search through one more furniture clothing drawer on the same table and then a second table with three individual furniture drawers. She moved ahead hearing silence from each rubber sole over the smooth soft carpet and stopped, standing in front of the closed front door. She reached and unlocked the latch, grabbing the door knob, twisting her wrist bone. She opened the door and squirted from the blinding sunlight, back stepping from the open archway, spinning around and moved back to the table surface. She grabbed the cardboard box and slowly twirled around, moving ahead, exiting through the open front door.

She carefully wobbled over the front porch then over the flat, ratty green tinted grass, moving ahead towards the open side door on the CSI van and finally stopped. She reached inside and slid the cardboard box across the smooth metal floor, exhaling with sadness. She stood upright on top of the driveway then lifted off the helmet, placing the head gear on the edge of the floor, exhaling with deep emotions of depression and sadness. She sobbed with her rolling hot tears regarding her sorry life and the terrible loss of life for each murdered family member. She didn't understand how another police detective that lived within a big city handled the pressure and stress of this work. Maybe, she should quit her job and become a city librarian.

She stared at the first cardboard in white hue that held piles of cute colorful kiddie art and each homework paper from the dead elementary child. Pearlet didn't believe this box of papers would pinpoint the murderer of an entire family unit, so she would make her partner Tarsal Tarragon review this box of evidence from the murder house. He was a tough male and didn't possess a range of sissy emotions regarding children art pieces.

She wiped the wet and dried tears from each eye socket and exhaled with a series of deep breaths, clearing her mind of sorrow, feeling numb again. She retrieved her plastic CSI helmet for protection then squatted down, grabbing the new folded cardboard box, slowly standing upright with a loud grunt. She slowly back stepped from the rear doors and then scooted sideways, clearing the van, slowly moving ahead towards the open front door with a stern face.

At 07:18 am, Pearlet entered back into the terrible crime scene inside the living room and then turned, padding towards the same wooden table, squatting down and popped open the cardboard box. She stood upright on top of the carpet and reached out, opening the first drawer on the same table. The interior drawer displayed loose sheets of musical songs. She gasped in shock. "These are individual pieces of musical songs. Do they have a piano?" She slowly turned a face and surveyed the living room without seeing a piano. Her eyeballs spotted a shiny object in the wall corner on top of the floor. She moved ahead in silence rubber soles and then stopped, squatting down with a gasp, staring down at the familiar object. "That's a trumpet musical instrument on the floor. O! The elementary child played in the musical band." She stared down at the instrument with a gasp. "The golden plated metal is coated in red liquid. Is that blood?" she reached down and swished the red liquid, lifting a rubber finger, studying the red stain. "Well, it looks like human blood. I wonder why the CSI team unit didn't collect this piece of evidence." She turned and stared at the flattened table surface. "O! The heavy table top collision swooshed down onto the child sending his blood proteins everywhere inside the living room," she reached down and wiped her dirty rubber finger on the fabric on the carpet, cleaning the blood. She slowly stood upright on top of the carpet and looked up with a gasp, seeing an array of geometric streaks of red blood solid lines on the white painted wall. "Wow! That table collision was really terrible on a human body. The poor kid's blood proteins crossed the room and slapped the wall corner," she exhaled with more sad emotions and slowly spun around, padding over the carpet back to the same wooden table.

She stopped and stood in front of the open drawer, reaching inside with a numb mind, collecting the stack of music sheets and dumped them down into the new box. She quickly finished her police job without closing back the open drawer. She scooted the box and slid sideways, stopping in front of a short and squat dark colored wooden table, opening the first drawer with a gasp. The first drawer contained in the corner the Holy Bible. She reached inside and grabbed the item, sneering with a sour frown. "This didn't help this murder house of dead people," she dropped the item down on the bottom in the new cardboard box. The rest of the drawer contained numerous keys that opened the front door, each vehicle, and maybe the other doors inside the house.

She gathered a handful of keys that softly tinged and then dropped her cupped hands down into the box. Each individual silver tinted key fell down and then sounded with an individual musical ping inside the empty box. She closed the first drawer and opened the second drawer, quickly gathering stacks of loose papers with a numb mind. She wanted to finish this terrible task. She dropped each stack of loose papers down into the box, wrapping up the manual work.

She closed the first drawer and opened the second drawer on the short table, rapidly collecting more loose piles of papers, dumping them down into the box. She finally finished the terrible sad task and exhaled with sorrow, squatting down, placing the lid over the box. She lifted the box and moved ahead, exiting the house, moving towards the CSI van. She stopped and slid the box down inside the rear compartment of the van for safety, slipping off the heavy and sweaty rubber suit. She tossed the dirty rubber suit deeply into the compartment of van, slamming into the other dirty pieces of rubber suits. She huffed loudly and reached down, slamming the door handles shut. The rear doors closed.

At 08:06 am, she swiftly back stepped from the closed doors and reached up, stretching out her upper limbs in the air, strolling ahead towards the driver's seat. She slid up into the driver's seat and started the cold engine, waiting for the warming motor, exhaling with a deep sigh of mixed emotions. Pearlet jerked the gear into reverse and slowly reversed the van into the roadway, steering ahead back toward her house for a quick hot shower, washing off the germs. Then she will drive toward her next destination.

Two minutes later...

Home of Tarsal Tarragon

First floor level location

Master bedroom setting

08:08 am

Tarsal slowly awoke inside the comfortable bed mattress and opened both of his eyelids, staring up at the sunshine rays on the lighted ceiling. The time was early morning, but he didn't care. He slid off the bed mattress and stood upright, rubbing his numerous wet and dried body parts, yawning out loud. He smelled with bad body odor, but he didn't care. He moved ahead and exited the single bedroom, strolling into the kitchen, stopping in front of the wash sink. He worn a face of ugly hairy stumble, but he didn't care.

He washed off the sleepy crumbs and looked up, staring at his face in the mirror. He reached out and grabbed a clean towel, wiping off the wet water from his face, dropping the wet towel down inside the wet wash sink. He possessed a mouth of bad breath, but he didn't care. He spun around with a stern face and moved ahead, stopping inside the walk-in closet, dressing in a slightly white dirty short-sleeved tee shirt, a pair of ancient tan colored cargo pants and a pair of nasty-looking, brown-tinted flip-flops over his clean naked toes. He looked tacky, but he didn't care.

He spun around from the rack of clothes and moved out the closet, reaching out, grabbing his wallet, car keys, police badge, and his police issued hand gun. He stuffed each item down into each empty pocket on his faded blue jeans and strolled out the side door inside the two-door garage setting, without locking the door.

Dare to enter my house!

He stopped then opened the door, sliding up into his jacked-up truck, leaning down, cranking the engine and sat upright. He waited for a long period of time inside the open garage, staring at the grayish colored concrete blocks on the forward wall in his garage.

He and his father had built the two-door garage from the ground soil upwards the tin rooftop, where the garage structure was lovely but uglier attached onto his personal house. Back then, Tarsal was a newly graduated high schooler with a high school degree, staring his day within the college environment the next week. He didn't understand the importance of building a simple garage structure onto his personal home and all of the special time with his father back then. Now, he really appreciated his parents and their love and sacrifices for his well-being.

His eyeballs produced a set of moisture, when he reached up, slamming the wetness away. He blinked his eyelids several times and reached down, placing the truck gear in reverse, exiting the homemade garage structure with more love and understanding.

Tarsal spun the truck away from the house then carefully steered down the busy roadway towards the next stop, taking his sweet police time, admiring the row of pretty and ugly house and the thick line of green tinted forest. The tiny town of Felton contained more parcels of forest than people. But that was slowly changing with man-made progress into fields of burnt down forest trees which was replaced with rows and rows of treeless properties of new houses. Tarsal understood how the natives on the continent of Africa felt about losing God's unique creation at the handy greed of mankind. He slowed the truck, then turned into the smooth parking lot, and stopped the truck, waiting in line at the Mother and Daughter Coffee Boutique for a tasty treat, before the start of a terrible work job and an awful day of working at terrible work job.

3001 Heaton Court

Wollen murder house location

Manicured grass setting

Hot temperatures with bright sunshine

09:09 am

Tarsal parked his pickup truck sideways, burying the big tires down into the smooth grass, but he didn't care. He killed the engine and stared out through the manicured lawn, exhaling with numbness.

Police Chief Melum had lost her good paying, long time work job. Well, she had been fired from her police chief job, which she held for thirty years. She would receive her pension monies and nothing else from the tiny town of Felton and the Felton Police Department. She had talked about a happy retirement of thirty years of police service then spending more time with her new grandchild. Well, she was spending more time at home, instead of inside her personal jail cell. Melum had believed Tarsal and his false information that Wallis Wollen was a triple cold-blood murderer of three different family units.

However, Wallis was innocent. The metal crowbar had belonged to the brother of Wallis and had been covered in dog spit and dog blood, where the old dog had grabbed and then bitten down into the solid metal, cutting its own soft lip tissue. Then, the torn dog lip tissue had bled out then deposited its blood proteins onto the metal.

Yesterday, during a fake moot court trial, inside the Gardenville auditorium, the line of various tall and short men and females from both Chamber of Commerce establishments had secretly voted to fire the mayor and the police chief of Gardenville, who had vocally supported Melum.

Each native, within the two towns of Gardenville and Felton, were highly embarrassed from the shameful accusation of a prominent billionaire citizen, who was truly innocent of any crime but only a married adulterer. A man or a woman did not go to jail for adultery on a married spouse.

So, three civil workers had been fired to prevent Wallis Wollen from suing and owning two entire towns here in Alabama.

Both Tarsal and Pearlet had been fired in the same sour breath. But the new police chief Zimb had appeared with a smile and a handshake offering both of the two police detectives a new job within the Felton Police Department. Both Tarsal and Pearlet accepted on the spot with a fake smile and a tummy of worries.

On top of the smooth roadway of Heaton Court, the white tinted Felton CSI van slowly rolled down the pavement, pulled beside Tarsal, and then killed the engine. The door slid open. Pearlet dropped down into the manicured grass with a sour frown and wiped off her sweaty face, moving ahead, leaving the van door open. She stopped then entered the passenger side on the truck, wiggling side to side with nerves over the soft bench seat and left the truck door open.

"Here!" Tarsal reached over and handed her a cup of hot steaming gourmet coffee from the Mother and Daughter Coffee Boutique staring at the manicured lawn between the two houses. She accepted the coffee with a nod in silence and started sipping the good brew, swallowing the coffee and stared at the same manicured lawn. He turned to see her nose profile and tapped on the coffee cup with a smile. "You stole the CSI van. I thought, maybe, Zimb took it home and mounted it into his living room wall."

She turned and smiled at Tarsal. "Yeah, I stole it this morning. I got an early start on 2404 Stouts Court with my never-ending police detective work. That house is more burnt ashes than criminal evidence. I found two intact and closed pieces of furniture which contained a few wooden drawers which didn't contain a box of fluttering gray ashes or wiggling house maggots."

"I hate maggots." He turned and sneered at the semi-dirty windshield, staring out into the manicured lawn.

She turned and sneered through the windshield at the manicured lawn. "I hate Zimb."

He exhaled. "Yes, I hate Zimb, too."

"What are we going to do now?"

"We are employed as a police detective for the moment. So, we're going to work our police employment jobs."

She exhaled with worry. "If we somehow solve this murder case, then we are unemployed without a police job. Then we will be sued by billionaire Wallis Wollen."

He laughed. "Well, if Wallis Wollen hurries up with his personal lawsuit against us for his false arrest today, then the Felton Police department will pay off each one of our personal lawsuits. That's why we are employed by the city with lots of city money insurance." He nodded. "Yeah, I know that too. But we're going to get Zimb back. He is the root cause of both our embarrassment and our temporary out of work job. He..."

"How are we going to do that?" She frowned.

"I'm still pondering that one and performing my real police work for Zimb..."

She exhaled. "Well, we have some real police work inside the Wollen murder house. I would suggest that you carry out each full cardboard box from the murder house and then store each one inside your cleaner personal pickup truck. The CSI van is overloaded with spilled CSI gear and numerous dirty and unclean CSI rubber suits. Zimb didn't bother to clean off the rubber on each dirty, bloody CSI suit. Actually, I believe the rubber is ruined with all of the dried blood stains. Zimb is really an incompetent police officer."

He frowned. "Yeah, we'll prove it also. Then you and I will be vying for his new police chief job..."

She turned and gasped at his nose profile. "That's funny and mutiny, Chief. Where do we bury the blue tinted, cold, dead body?"

He laughed. "I'm looking around for that burial spot also."

She laughed. "Well, we had our tiny fun of humor for the work day. There are numerous empty and carefully folded brand new white tinted cardboard boxes inside the van but don't drag out a box with any wet or dried blood proteins on the edge. I don't wanna explain that one to Almighty God. If we run out of boxes, I'll drive the van back to the police station for a new supply of white cardboards," Pearlet slid down and stood on top of the flattened grass, saying to the nose profile on Tarsal. "We should wear a pair of CSI rubber shoes. I don't wanna track any more dirt or grass or blood proteins through the house."

He sat inside the driver's seat and typed on the tiny keyboard on his mobile telephone explaining to the Felton dispatcher that he was on the police job and working at the Wollen murder house, in case new Police Chief Zimb wanted to talk.

Tarsal frowned. "The gang of Felton police officers already did. Our shoe prints over the floor or the carpet doesn't matter now."

She exhaled with worry. "And my temporary police detective job is based on my good behavior and swift performance. I don't want any complains coming from new Police Chief Zimb about my sloppy police work which could provide him an excuse to fire me."

He grunted down at the tiny screen on his mobile telephone. The dispatcher had typed a text back for the confirmation. He frowned. "That's a very good point! Is there a clean pair of CSI rubber booties for each one of us inside the van?" He stored his personal mobile telephone inside his blue jeans and then slid out from the driver's seat.

"Yes," she spun around with a stern face, moved ahead, then stopped, standing in front of the side door, sliding the door open and reached inside the messy floor. She withdrew two pairs of CSI yellow tinted booties that would fit the foot from an average to tall adult. She back stepped from the open door with a deep sigh and spun around, moving ahead, toting two pairs of booties. Her mind was both blank and numb. She had exhausted her brain cells yesterday trying to pen the murder crime on billionaire Wallis Wollen which back fired and got her fired from her police job.

Pearlet had visited and inspected two of the murder houses. She was an intelligent and observant police officer. She did not see any common factor but the killing pattern of an entire family unit that rested in an ocean of blood. She didn't know how to profile the serial killer.

Zimb had threatened to bring into the crime investigation a professional police department profiler which would eliminate Pearlet and her police job from the triple murder case. The small-town police force within the tiny town of Felton didn't have financial funds to cover two police detectives plus an expensive Birmingham police profiler. Pearlet had nodded and smiled and promised that she would figure out the serial killer with her talents and resources.

Pearlet spun around from the truck door then moved ahead diagonally towards the rear of the van scooting around Tarsal and finally stopped in front of the closed door. She grabbed one of the handles and opened one of the side doors, reaching inside for one folded white tinted cardboard box at a time. She slowly handed one folding box at a time toward Tarsal, who accepted each item until his underarm pit was fully loaded.

Tarsal sidestepped from the rear door and moved ahead with the boxes, slowly sipping and swallowed the hot cup, heading towards the Wollen murder house in silence.

Pearlet held one hand with the hot cup of coffee and slowly sipped, swallowing the good brew, toting a few folded boxes between her armpit and body in silence. She slowly followed the back spine on Tarsal and as her eyeballs darted at the manicured yard.

The road was still without rolling cars. The sky was clear pale blue. The sun was heated. The woods scene erupted with soft insect sounds. The house occupants were silence also.

She arrived on top of the patio surface, placing on both of her CSI rubber shoes, opening the rear patio door for Tarsal. She moved ahead inside and decided where to begin accumulating all the paperwork.

Tarsal stopped before the open patio door and slipped his shoes down into the oversized CSI rubber shoes without tracking grass and dirt into the Wollen murder house. He entered with his hot cup of coffee and the armpit of boxes, moving ahead into the living room setting and stopped a few feet from the archway. He lifted an arm and as each folded box tumbled down, falling onto the tile floor. He turned and moved ahead towards the first wooden furniture pieces with a set of drawers that hid something insignificant or important. Pearlet was correct that new Felton Police Chief Zimb would use any ploy on any police employee while keeping his new paying job. Tarsal didn't want to make any waves or any mistakes during this police investigation, beginning a long day of police work.

Three hours later, at 12:12 pm, inside the Wollen den room of green paint beside the light wooden short office desk, Pearlet continued to touch, lift, and drop a stack of loose paper down into a new cardboard in silence.

Tarsal returned back from the CSI van and entered the den room, moving ahead towards the office chair, where a stack of closed boxes sat marked, alone, and lonely. He stopped and bent his kneecaps, grabbing the item, lifting up two more heavy cardboard boxes from the sitting chair with a loud grunt. "Is this the last two?"

She continued to work with a sour frown. "No. I have three more office drawers that need to be emptied."

"These dead people sure stored a lot of stuff for nothing," He back stepped from the office chair and then slowly spun around with another grunt, moving ahead and exited the den room, leaving the house again. Tarsal entered the outdoor grass into the raising heat and bright sunlight. The month of June was heated and hot in Alabama. He slowly moved with a set of heavy grunts back towards the CSI van, and stopped, standing in the rear compartment, gently placing the stack of two boxes in the corner and lifted both of his hands near his jawline. He gently rubbed both of his palms wiping off the dirt and dust with a deep sigh. "These dead people sure stored a lot of stuff for nothing." The Wollen murder house was almost emptied of loose papers that might provide a clue to the mysterious serial killer.

The next step, Tarsal and Pearlet would return to the police station, find an empty office room, bring inside all the white tinted cardboard boxes, and read each sheet of paper with hopes of finding a serial killer today or a couple of weeks from today.

"And computers were supposed to save us time and worry," he laughed at the tall stacks of boxes and the dirty sets of CSI rubber suits and then back stepped from the rear open compartment, scooting sideways, wiping the sweat from his brow. He slowly moved ahead with a deep sigh and as his mind was blank and numb.

Tarsal had reread all the official police reports and the completed CSI crime reports. So far, the only common factor was the serial killer used a killing pattern of terminating each family member within the family unit. And the serial killer left an ocean of blood on the floor and walls with some on the ceiling.

He moved ahead with a puzzled brow. "How did the serial killer paint the ceiling with blood? Why did the serial killer paint the ceiling with the victim's blood? What's wrong with this serial killer and an ocean of blood?"

Tarsal strolled ahead within the yellow tinted police tape and moved towards the row of open patio doors when one of his eyeballs saw a flash of movement. He halted with a gasp and then back stepped, turning to face an open archway that led into the kitchen, the crime scene. The kitchen door had been closed, not locked keeping the black tinted house flies off each dried blood appliance and each wall. He dashed ahead while squeaking each rubber sole over the brick, pointed his finger at the open archway and stopped inside the open archway at the kitchen. "Hey! Who are you? What are you doing in here?"

Pearlet slowly strolled through the open patio door with a sour frown and toted a closed cardboard box towards the CSI van for storage. "Tarsal, there is..."

...something in here."

She stopped in front of the patio chair, dropping down the closed box, scooting around the furniture and stared at back spine on Tarsal with puzzlement. She moved ahead, stopped, and stood beside his nose profile, staring into the crime scene kitchen space, gasping in shock.

In the middle on top of the dried red tinted ocean of blood, an upright female stood on top of the floor and wore a blue and red checkered long-sleeved shirt, a pair of faded and ripped blue jeans, and a pair of red tinted cowgirl boots which were covered in a set of blue tinted medical surgery booties, slowly twirling around with puzzlement to face Pearlet and Tarsal.

Tarsal gasped in shock, "Awful, Yaffle!"

Pearlet reached over with a gasp and slapped the arm on Tarsal with a fake smile, "Doctor Yaffle, hello! What can we do for you?"

Yaffle slowly swirled around in a tight circle without moving off the floor and stared at each wall of blood with puzzlement. "I heard about the murders."

Tarsal exhaled with annoyance and thumbed back over his collar bone with a sour frown, "Doctor Yaffle, what are you doing here inside this room? You should not be here."

Yaffle continued to slowly twirl around in a tight circle and examined each bloody object including each wall, the floor, and the ceiling. "I'm looking at the walls."

Tarsal frowned. "Look! This is a crime..."

"Be quiet!" Pearlet leaned over with a whisper and a fake smile into the cheekbone on Tarsal. "Doctor Yaffle used to be an animal veterinarian. Then she tried to commit suicide and failed. Do you see her wearing a long-sleeved shirt on her body? The weather outside is hot and heated in the month of June. But she always wears a long-sleeved shirt on her body from her two..."

"Yeah, I know the sad story." He frowned back with a whisper.

She exhaled with worry. "Yaffle slashed both of her wrists. Then her blood proteins spilled out everywhere. Every kid knows that horror story. Yaffle needs to leave the crime scene..."

"Veterinarian suicide is very common among the more talented physicians." Tarsal whispered back to Pearlet and stared with sadness at Yaffle inside the kitchen floor.

Yaffle continued to slowly twirl around the room. "In the veterinary of medicine field, fourteen percent of males and nineteen percent of females who are animal veterinarians have considered to end their life with suicide, last year. This is three times the normal rate of suicide victims here in America. An American research study has documented and concluded that one percentage point of males and one percentage point of females within the veterinarian professional has attempted to end their human life, since graduating from veterinarian school."

Pearlet continued to lean over with a whisper into the cheekbone on Tarsal. "Why is that?"

Hel exhaled with a worried brow. "Depression is the problem."

Yaffle continued to slowly twirl around in a tight circle and examined each bloody object including each wall, the floor, and the ceiling planks. "Depression is not the problem. I am the problem. I am a human. I am not a disease. No one understands me or my issue. As a small animal veterinarian, I continuous feel empathy for every family pet, every wildlife animal, every caged zoo mammal and every work farm animal inside my heart and inside my active mind. I can't stop thinking about their individual wound or injuries as the family pet can't talk with me and explain what hurts and what aches on them such like a human patient. Even after I leave my veterinarian office, I always bring my feelings, my emotions, and my images of each injured pet back home into my comfortable large and peaceful warm house. I feel guilty when I prepare a sandwich of peanut butter between two pieces of soft bread as I know that this. There is always a starving and hungry mama dog with tiny hungry six tiny puppies that need this food more than me. I am a healthy human.

Pearlet cleared her tight throat with a soft tone. "Doctor Yaffle, sometimes, we must pray to Almighty God..."

Yaffle slowly spun around and stared at each wall with puzzlement. "Almighty God, he is a busy entity. He is trying to save his silly children that keep killing each other for stupidity and money and power. I don't care about the human race," she slowly turned and then leaned over, mouth spitting out her tongue salvia down on top of the dried bloody kitchen floor, standing upright and stared at the wall. "A human is a vile creature with greed and vanity and wants all of their possessions and all of your possessions too for greed and vanity. A dog wants love and food curling down on the top of the floor out from the heat-ness or the coldness of the night without asking for anything in return but a warm pile of blankets and two meals of crunchy dog food. That's all. That's it! Amen!" She continued to swirl around and sobbed with her tears while staring at each bloody wall and the bloody ceiling planks. "Why can't the humans see that? A dog is man's best friend and man's greatest protector. The word dog is spelled backwards and shows the word God."

Tarsal continued to stand inside the archway without scooting inside the dirty and dried bloody kitchen floor, nodding with a smile. "Yes, that is a wonderful sign from Almighty God, Doctor Yaffle. Look! You need to...

"...treat all the sick animals," Yaffle continued to slowly twirl around in a tight circle and studied each bloody wall. "When I first started working as a veterinarian, some of the pet owners or farmers couldn't afford the expensive medication. The greedy pharmaceutical companies would not give my free drugs for each sick and poor animal. I had to pay the pharmaceutical company the money first. I had to buy the medicine to treat the sick family pet. I didn't have the money either. The owner didn't have the money. The money didn't come. So, the family pet suffered and then died like Brother Jesus. Brother Jesus died like that, so each human could see and feel his pain. But the pet didn't suffer. I murdered the family pet for free. I didn't want the owner to suffer in pain from more money problems. I got to the point that I died a little inside for that suffering dog..."

Pearlet leaned over with a whisper and a stern face. "Do something, Tarsal? She must leave the crime scene as she is contaminating the crime scene and our police work here."

He frowned. "Doctor Yaffle..."

".... the thought of death relieved my mind, my heart, and my soul." Yaffle continued to sob with tears and shouted out loud with her broken-hearted pain. "Yes, die. Yes, go. Yes, leave. I purchased a carton of bright red colored cherries and then I grinded down each pit into a silver tinted tablespoon of cyanide, cyanide, cyanide, so I could ingest the poison and die, die, die a pleasant death. That is why people do not commit suicide more frequently, the person is afraid of the pain, the pain, the pain..."

"O dear me!" Pearlet exhaled with worry and stared at Yaffle.

Yaffle continued to slowly swirl in a tight circle around the dirty and bloody kitchen floor, studying each wall with a puzzled brow. "Suicide is not a disease; mental illness is."

He exhaled with frustration. "No. She is beyond mental here. She is something else."

Yaffle continued to slowly swirl in a tight circle around the dirty and bloody kitchen floor, studying each wall with a puzzled brow. "Every day and night, the deaths, I had to kill the family pet for some mental sick reason. This prissy, wealthy woman marched into my office and demanded that her tiny Peke-a-poo breed dog become destroyed, because the tiny tea cup lady dog chewed up her three-hundred-dollar fashion-designer shoes. The dog was to be murdered over a pair of shoes. A life form, a tea cute dog which was colored in white hair and a pair of big blue eyeballs had to die, so her designer shoes could live. So, I did it." Pearlet gasped in alarm and covered her face, sobbing with sad tears in silence of the horrible action with the tiny dog. Yaffle continued to slowly swirl in a tight circle around the dirty and bloody kitchen floor, studying each wall with a puzzled brow, sobbing with her tears of sadness. "I did it. I murdered her tiny tea cup lap dog, because the woman wanted it done and paid me money. You don't know this, but there are wicked and evil veterinaries that take a healthy dog like that and sell for money to the local research company. Then that poor sweet cut lap dog is probed and poke and picked with thousands needles and forced fed poisonous liquid for years and years and years, so a human life will not be harmed, a vile and greedy human life. Then the old dog dies from its wounds and suffering by the mercy of God or the old dog is tossed out the back yard to fend off all predators and find shelter and food, alone and scared," she looked up with her tears and softly spoke with worry. "Where is the wrath of Almighty God? I wait and wait and wait and watch and watch and watch for the wrath of Almighty God. Where? When? How?"

He exhaled with sadness and softly said. "The wrath of Almighty God will come much, much later for you and me and every life form here on Planet Earth or in heaven, Doctor Yaffle. I mean. We don't know when that might when. Almighty God does things his own way. But I do believe it and I do believe that it will happen for every human and every animal. If you call yourself a person of God, you must be patience and suffer..."

"I don't suffer," Yaffle slapped her chest and sobbed with a red swollen face of tears, staring at Tarsal. "I take a dollar bill and buy a hamburger. I drive my car and go to the physician office, receiving medical care for my illness. I take a long or short nap inside my warm bed, every night. A sick and stray animal can't take a dollar bill and go buy a hamburger. A stray and sick animal has to walk and walk and walk for miles and miles over hard concrete sidewalks and wet grass and cold dirt, sniffing the ground for a tongue of food that has been tossed out from a stranger. A stray and sick animal can't read American words or walk into the veterinarian's office for medical treatment without the pet owner. An animal veterinarian has to pay their personal and professional bills including their mortgage, their electricity power bill, and their car bill. The veterinarian care is not free for a stray and sick animal. A stray and sick animal doesn't have a warm bed. It walks and walks and walks finding an abandoned shack that leaks down cold water and barely fends off the cold weather. Each animal suffers at the hand of man, an evil and vile creature that Almighty God created by accident. We are all an accident. We are all an experiment. And we will not make it to the Promised Land either. Do you watch or read or listen to any type of world news events? Right now, in the country of India, vile evil young and mature people over there are tossing individual fire bombs at baby calf elephants for fun, for fun. They don't care. They don't love animals. They don't love anything but evil. Why? Where is God here?"

"God is here. God sees it. God cries each night, like me and you, Doctor Yaffle." Pearlet looked up and displayed her tears on a wet face, exhaling with sadness from the terrible stress on suicide victim Yaffle and the horrible world events that happen to all animal."

Yaffle continued to slowly twirl around in a tight circle and examined each wall while sobbing with her tears of sorrow and worry. "As an animal veterinarian, I feel helplessness. I can't help all the sick and stray animals. I can't help one sick and stray animal. I can't touch one sick and stray animal. I can't save one sick and stray animal. I feel so sad. I...I have animal talents but can't do anything for them. The stray animals that live on the streets are so scared and hungry and lonely and cold and sick and will die...die a horrible, horrible death all alone and afraid. No other human will be there to hold them or care for each stray animal. Each stray animal only wants food and shelter and love. Every human baby wants food and shelter and love too. The tough one, the tough stray animal only survives to fight for the next day. I feel hopelessness for each stray animal. My emotions are so deep that my stomach aches. My throat gags. My heart is so heavy with sadness that if might bust with blood."

He exhaled with worry. "Doctor Yaffle, everything must die, that is the cycle of life."

Yaffle continued to slowly twirl around in a tight circle and examined each wall while sobbing with her tears of sorrow and worry. "Tell me this! Why does a human cry and sob and mourn over a human dead? The human dead ascend into heaven. Heaven is a cool place with Almighty God, Brother Jesus, the Holy Spirit, and the heavenly angels. Why does a human feel heartbroken, devastation, sobbing, tears? A human will see the loved one again, because Brother Jesus died like a man and then he rose up from his death. A human doesn't have to suffer for food or shelter. But an animal suffers for everything if the man or the woman doesn't care for the animal. Mankind and womankind, he and she created the dog. He and she domesticated the dog. Man, he and she should have left the dog alone. I hate the humans."

He laughed. "You should not be yelling that loud out inside a crime scene, Doctor Yaffle. Your statement is not funny standing here in the middle of a bloody kitchen floor inside a crime scene of murder."

Yaffle continued to slowly twirl around in a tight circle and examined each wall while sobbing with her tears of sorrow and worry. "Almighty God provides rules for each human. Brother Jesus says do not grieve for a dead person. Why? Because a dead person will come back to live one day just like Brother Jesus and each evil person will be judged and dropped down into the fiery pit of hell."

"Yeah, I'm pretty certain I'm inside the fiery pit of hell now," he whispered for his eardrums only and wiped off his sweaty brow, frowning at Yaffle in frustration.

Pearlet exhaled with annoyance. "She is impossible to reason with. What are we going to do with her? We need to finish inspecting the entire Wollen murder house before suppertime and her upcoming suicide, Tarsal."

He frowned at Yaffle. "No. Yaffle is telling us about her deep feelings of worry, hopelessness, and helplessness. Honestly, I'm feeling each one of those emotions right now too. So, she and we are alike at the moment in our time."

Pearlet exhaled with annoyance. "You are acting crazier than her, Tarsal."

He laughed. "And you are talking without English contractions like Yaffle."

Pearlet frowned. "Once a person attempts a suicide and the attempt is not successful, like in dying rather than that person's suicide rate jumps to forty times higher for another attempt..."

"What does that mean?" he frowned at Yaffle. "That stupid statement means nothing to me or her or you. Anyways, the cause of suicide is the build-up of numerous helpless emotions and hopeless events that occur over a long period of time. She is acting sane while telling about her stress and depression. This is a healthy sign of a healthy person."

Pearlet sneered. "No. I disagree. Yaffle is giving us direct clues by talking about her deep and suicidal emotions and feelings."

He exhaled. "Look! A suicidal person more likely performs the dirty deed right after the holidays. This is not the holiday weekend. This is almost summer time. A veterinarian is a high achiever. A high achiever is a person who is a perfectionist, conscientious, and neurotic sometimes..."

Pearlet whispered back. "And these three factors create mental illness. And a veterinarian likes an animal more than a human. You and I are the humans here."

He frowned. "Yaffle isn't a dangerous or deadly person."

"The three warning signs of suicide, depression, changes in behavior, and talking about suicide. She has exhibited two of the three factors. If her behavior radically changes, then I am drawing my gun and shooting her kneecap off."

He looked down at the tiny screen on his personal mobile telephone. "A dramatic change in social and mental behavior pattern is associated with recklessness, overdrinking, speeding, giving away prized possessions..."

"I am watching her and warning you." Pearlet sneered into his cheekbone.

He bowed a chin with a deep dip and then looked up with a smile to see Yaffle. "Amen! We're glad that you have dropped by Doctor Yaffle. But we are a little busy..."

Pearlet stood upright with a stern face and a matching tone. "Doctor Yaffle, you must leave from here right now."

"Do you see this?" Yaffle continued to slowly swirl in a tight circle around the dirty and bloody kitchen floor, wiping the tears off her face, studying each wall with a puzzled brow.

He laughed with a nod. "Yeah, there are red tinted blood proteins everywhere."

"Do you see this?" Yaffle continued to slowly swirl in a tight circle around the dirty and bloody kitchen floor, pointing at each wall with a puzzled brow.

He frowned. "Doctor Yaffle, you really do need to leave from here right now."

"Do you see this?" Yaffle continued to slowly swirl in a tight circle around the dirty and bloody kitchen floor, pointing at each wall with a puzzled brow.

He frowned. "What are you seeing here that I am not, Doctor Yaffle?"

"Blood is everywhere." Yaffle continued to slowly swirl in a tight circle around the dirty and bloody kitchen floor, pointing at each wall with a puzzled brow.

Pearlet continued to stand in the archway and leaned over again with a whisper and a stern face. "Yaffle tried to commit suicide. She saw her red tinted blood proteins on the floor like in here."

He exhaled. "I know."

"She needs to leave."

"I know."

She sneered. "Tell her to leave!"

"I know."

She stood upright and shouted out loud, "Tarsal!"

Tarsal exhaled with frustration "Doctor Yaffle, you need to leave..."

"Do you see the numerous streaks of blood on each wall?" Yaffle continued to slowly swirl in a tight circle around the dirty and bloody kitchen floor, pointing at each wall with a puzzled brow.

He frowned with a nod. "Yeah, I do, Doctor Yaffle."

"The numerous streaks of blood reach the ceiling too. Do you see this?" Yaffle continued to slowly swirl in a tight circle around the dirty and bloody kitchen floor, pointing at the ceiling plank with a puzzled brow.

He frowned with a nod. "Yeah, I do, Doctor Yaffle."

Pearlet continued to stand at the open archway with a soft growl and crossed both of her arms, staring at Yaffle. "Tell her to leave!"

He exhaled with frustration. "Doctor Yaffle..."

"How do you suppose those bright colorful strikes of blood reached the ceiling? Do you see this?" Yaffle continued to slowly swirl in a tight circle around the dirty and bloody kitchen floor, pointing at the ceiling planks with a puzzled brow.

He frowned. "We are dealing with a wild man, Doctor Yaffle."

"Each blood streak is pretty vertical like it was painted on the wall. Some of the pretty vertical strikes ascend into the ceiling. Do you see this?" Yaffle continued to slowly swirl in a tight circle around the dirty and bloody kitchen floor, pointing at each wall and then the ceiling with a puzzled brow.

He frowned. "Doctor Yaffle, you need..."

"Every strike of blood has been painted on each wall in a vertical pattern. Do you see this?" Yaffle continued to slowly swirl in a tight circle around the dirty and bloody kitchen floor, pointing at each wall and then the ceiling with a puzzled brow.

Pearlet leaned through the air space inside the kitchen sniffing up death. The odor was stale, tart, bitter, and stinky coming from numerous items of rotten food, dead and flying insects, and dried blood all over the floor and each kitchen appliance. The five humans with their associated separated body parts had been removed and not buried. The criminal investigation had to be solved first.

She stood upright with a sour frown and whispered for her eardrums only. "Yaffle is sick."

Tarsal leaned through the air space inside the kitchen space without touching the floor, sniffing the stinky odors also in silence.

"Every strike of blood is pretty telling. Do you see this?" Yaffle continued to slowly swirl in a tight circle around the dirty and bloody kitchen floor, pointing at each wall and then the ceiling with a puzzled brow.

"Tarsal!" Pearlet shouted out loud at Tarsal.

He exhaled. "Doctor Yaffle, you need..."

"...to know that I had been saved, after I had tried to commit suicide on my body. I tried to commit suicide, because I couldn't take it anymore, the deaths, all the dying and starving animals on the street, in the back yard, inside the alleyway," Yaffle continued to slowly swirl in a tight circle around the dirty and bloody kitchen floor, pointing at each wall and then the ceiling with a puzzled brow.

He exhaled. "Doctor Yaffle, you need..."

"...to know that I had cut both of my wrist bones while bleeding out each one of my rich red tinted blood over the floor like this. I tried to commit suicide, because I couldn't take it anymore, the deaths, all the dying and starving animals on the street, in the back yard, inside the alleyway," Yaffle continued to slowly swirl in a tight circle around the dirty and bloody kitchen floor, pointing at each wall and then the ceiling with a puzzled brow.

Tarsal exhaled with frustration, "Yes, that's very obvious, blood is everywhere in here, Doctor Yaffle."

"I mean. Each victim had to swiftly bleed out during and after each murder act." Yaffle continued to slowly swirl in a tight circle around the dirty and bloody kitchen floor, pointing at each wall and then the ceiling with a puzzled brow.

He frowned with a nod, "Yes, that's a very obvious statement, also, Doctor Yaffle."

"I mean. It is not possible for a human to bleed out so fast, unless that human had been attacked first." Yaffle continued to slowly swirl in a tight circle around the dirty and bloody kitchen floor, pointing at each wall and then the ceiling with a puzzled brow.

Pearlet frowned at Yaffle, who continued to twirl in a tight circle around the room. "Yes, you would personally be knowledgeable regarding that medical procedure, Doctor Yaffle."

"I mean. I know who the murderer is." Yaffle continued to slowly swirl in a tight circle around the dirty and bloody kitchen floor, pointing at each wall and then the ceiling with a puzzled brow.

Pearlet gasped in shock at the back spine of Yaffle. "Who is the murderer?"

Tarsal gasped in shock. "Who is the murderer?"

Yaffle continued to slowly swirl in a tight circle around the dirty and bloody kitchen floor, facing Pearlet and Tarsal while pointing at each wall and then the ceiling with a puzzled brow. "This massive amount of human blood is overwhelming inside this enclosed room, which has been done by the murderer."

Pearlet gasped in shock at Yaffle. "Who is the murderer?"

He frowned at Yaffle. "How can you prove the murderer of this vicious crime, Doctor Yaffle?"

Yaffle halted with a smile and faced the open archway, staring at Tarsal, strolling ahead over the dried bloody kitchen floor. "I can prove it to you, who the murderer is. Come with me!" She exited through the open archway and passed each nose bridge on Pearlet and Tarsal. She left the patio brick surface and turned, moving across the manicured lawn, heading towards the front of the murder house.

"Who is the murderer, Doctor Yaffle?" Pearlet spun around with a puzzled brow and followed the back spine on Yaffle, exiting off the patio brick surface into the manicured grass.

Tarsal spun around with a gasp in shock and then dashed ahead, catching up with Yaffle. Yaffle continued to move across the lawn in the hot bright sunlight and turned with a smile, surveying the pretty landscape. "My dog saved my sorry life. Did you hear that true story?"

Pearlet pulled up and strolled with Yaffle in silence, turning to scan the landscape in puzzlement. The veterinarian was both insanely crazy and mentally, unstable which was playing out right here at the crime scene. If her new supervisor pulled into the nicely tan colored brick paved driveway at the Wollen murder house, Zimb would fire Pearlet on the spot with her finger and without a vocal command.

Tarsal pulled up and strolled with Yaffle, saying with a stern face. "No."

Yaffle reached down with a stern face and slapped the shirt cuff over one of her wrist scars. "I cut the skin deep down into both of my wrist bones, bleeding over the floor inside my home. My dog smelled the blood..."

"I told you that a dog could smell blood," Tarsal leaned over and frowned at Pearlet still moving beside Yaffle, standing upright and faced the front yard with a smile.

At 12:12 pm in the hot temperatures with bright sunlight, in the front yard setting of the Wollen murder house location, an orange tinted full-size ancient and rusty van parked on top of the nicely manicured grass. Inside the driver's seat, a white colored Bloodhound breed dog with a pair of light brown tinted long ears then stood upright, leaning its furry skull out into the air waves, panting off the heated day and then spotted a line of people, including his mistress Yaffle. The dog didn't bark or growl while still panting with a tongue from the heated and hot day.

On top of the front lawn, Pearlet stopped with a gasp and pointed with a frown at the dog inside the old van. "You...you cannot be serious here. You...you cannot bring a dog into the crime scene..."

"This is the only method to prove, to you, who the murderer is." Yaffle moved ahead with a smile.

He moved beside Yaffle and wore a smile. "Ah! Your dog is a bloodhound. It's pretty and possesses a unique coat of white."

She nodded. "The bloodhound breed is described as a dog in a baggy suit and my bloodhound dog fits that description. He has a loose-fitting skin around the neck. His coat is a lighter colored hair with a mixture of white, gray, brown, and black that makes it appear white. Some of the coats on the bloodhound breed could be also flecked with small or large tan colored spots. My dog is two feet high at the shoulder and weighs one hundred pounds. He was abandoned on the roadside, when I found him years and years ago. People are so cruel and mean. I hope Almighty God keeps his promise and burns all evil people in hell, including evil people that abandon a dog without food and water and shelter from the weather elements. However, not every master can live with a large dog that slings slobbers, and smells of hound-dog odor, literally follows his nose, and wrecks destruction everywhere during its puppyhood. A Bloodhound possesses lots of energy and endurance exhibiting the word stubborn. A Bloodhound breed is kind, sensitive, and tolerant of children and other animals. The dog brings much joy and laughter to his doggie world and his mistress also."

"That's great to know." He nodded with a smile at the dog. "And I wanna know who the murderer is here at this murder house. Bring out your bloodhound!"

Pearlet whipped out her personal mobile telephone, typing on the tiny screen, seeing the same information, slowly moving ahead towards the ancient van. "Wait! Hold up! The Gardenville police officers brought in the K-9 team of dogs that afternoon at the murder crime scene. The team of trained scent dogs went crazy and could not find a single manly or womanly scent on the murderer inside the house of blood. What makes you think you can accomplish something the police dogs didn't, Doctor Yaffle?"

Yaffle stopped and stood in front of the dropped driver's window, reaching out, gently patting the furry skull on the Bloodhound dog with a smile. "Good boy, Rafiki! Come out and help me find the mean murderer now!" She opened the door wide. The dog leaped down onto the grass and sat next to her outer leg, carefully watching his mistress.

Pearlet stomped over the grass then stopped, standing a few feet from the illegal parked ancient looking orange tinted van, pointing with a sour frown at the heeling dog. "You need a dog leash on that loose dog. There are rules against a dog running around the city limits without a dog leash. And I'm a police officer. So, I can arrest you, if that dog is not wearing a dog leash, Doctor Yaffle."

Yaffle spun away from her parked van with a smile and moved back towards the front porch. The dog strolled beside her kneecap, leaning down, sniffing the grass without baying.

Tarsal spun around from the van also with a smile and moved beside Yaffle, staring down at the ground. "Can your bloodhound dog really find the hidden scent on the leg or foot of mysterious murderer? Pearlet is mean but correct. The local K-9 dog unit came out here on the hot and humid afternoon on the murder. The dogs scurried around the inside of the murder house and couldn't seem to locate a single manly or womanly scent. We don't know the identification of the murderer. But based on the ripped apart body parts from each whole human, I would guess the murderer is a male."

Yaffle continued to move ahead and laughed out loud, turning to scan the woods and the roadway, looking back to see the nose profile on Tarsal. "The K-9 police officer used the wrong dog."

Tarsal gasped. "What?"

She laughed. "I brought the number one best sniffer among the dog breeds. The local kennel of talented K-9 dogs is a pack of hunting beagles, which rank about three or four on the canine 'sniffer' list depending on the on-line article you find and then read on the internet."

He frowned. "I don't understand. Every dog in the world possesses the ability to detect a scent which is impossible for the human nose to trace."

She continued to move ahead with a smile. "The Bloodhound breed is the most popular dog when it comes to scent work. A Bloodhound dog is called a scent hound. The dog uses their noses over their ears and eyeballs to hunt their prey. This breed dog is used for hunting, performing search and rescue in the wilderness, over water, and in the city. They are used to find weapons, drugs, and sniffing out bed bugs and termites. A Bloodhound breed is used by a group of weird scientists to find hidden signs of a group of elusive animals in the wild forests also."

"Wow! I didn't know all that information about the Bloodhound breed," Tarsal slowly moved beside Yaffle towards the front porch on the murder house and whipped out his personal mobile telephone, typing on the tiny keyboard, looking at the tiny screen. He slowly read information about the bloodhound breed.

She moved ahead and nodded with a smile, staring at the front of the house. "Every nose on a dog has the ability to perform sniffing tasks. But a Bloodhound breed has the temperament to keep working very long hours like a police officer," laughing.

He laughed. "Thanks!"

She moved ahead with Tarsal and smiled at the front porch. The dog continued to roam a few feet away from his mistress and sniffed the manicured grass for a distinct smell. She grinned with a nod. "A Bloodhound belongs to a group of dogs that hunt by scent which is known as Sagaces. The word Sagaces or sagacious is a Latin term that references the qualities of keen discernment and sound judgment," she stopped at the bottom of the front steps at the front porch on the Wollen murder house. "We need to use the front door entrance with Rafiki. I want his nose to..."

"No!" Pearlet stood in place with a sour frown and pointed down at the bloodhound dog with a sneer. "That dog is not going into that murder house and tracking dirty paw prints all over the nice rugs and clean carpet," she looked up with a worried brow to see Tarsal. "Someone will become very upset with that action, Tarsal. And then that someone will..."

".... use a set of cloth booties like a human investigator, police detective Pearlet Beauton," Tarsal frowned at Pearlet and then thumbed over to the CSI van that was parked on the other roadway. "Inside the CSI van, there's a cabinet of CSI doggie gear also. Go and get, Pearlet. Since you're causing more trouble here than good." Pearlet spun around with a huff and swiftly jogged ahead to retrieve the new CSI gear for the new inspection within the murder house in silence.

Tarsal slowly strolled ahead and frowned at the front of the Wollen murder house. "That doesn't make any sense here, Doctor Yaffle. The murderous crime occurred exclusively inside the kitchen, where each dead body or their numerous body parts were found. We should go inside the kitchen doorway, where Rafiki can pick up the doggie scent." The dog continued to sniff around the manicured grass, without baying.

Yaffle stared at the house and shook her silver tinted pixie cut. "No! I need to take Rafiki inside the house. He can tour around the house with his sniffing nose. A Bloodhound breed can find and then pick up a scent that is days old from any long and gone human subject. They have been used since the Middle Ages time period to track down lost people. Bloodhounds are popular and used in police and search and rescue operations throughout the world as a bloodhound dog has the best scent of smell in the dog family."

"Yeah, you keep repeating that." Pearlet appeared with a sneer and stood beside the nose profile on Tarsal, passing out a pair of CSI rubber shoes to each human and a pair of cloth dog booties for the mammal.

Yaffle accepted the two items with a smile. "Thank you! Rafiki, come over to me, boy!" She squatted down. The dog spun around and raced towards his mistress, stopping before hitting Yaffle, slinging mouth slobber everywhere.

Tarsal scooted back with a chuckle from the flying mouth spit on the dog.

"Sit down, Rafiki!" Yaffle smiled. The dog sat down at its two back hind legs lifting its paw to Yaffle. She placed each cloth dog bootie over each paw and then slowly stood upright with a smile. "Come, Rafiki!" The large dog slowly stood upright and kicked out a leg with a whine.

She smiled down at the dog and thumbed over her collar bone at the murder house. "It is okay, Rafiki! Go into the house and find the scent for the nice police officer!"

The Bloodhound breed looked up and then raced ahead, lowering a head, sniffing the grass. The dog slowly sniffed each brick step trying to pick up the smell and then advanced up towards the flat concrete porch, smelling the hard, painted concrete in yellow. The Bloodhound continued to sniff the paint and stood in front of the closed front door, looking up, pointing at the glass door.

Yaffle slowly moved ahead and then climbed each step, strolling towards the closed front door, waving an arm. "Open the door!"

Pearlet stopped and stood on the ground with a sour frown. "No!"

Tarsal slowly moved up each step and continued to view the tiny screen on his mobile telephone, reaching down into the pocket, pulling out the front door house key. His eyeballs peeled away from the tiny screen and then stared down at the door knob. Inserting the key, he opened the door.

Rafiki slowly moved ahead through the open archway, lowering a skull, sniffing the wooden floor. The dog roamed in a set of loose circles and then headed up the grand staircase, moving toward each upper bedroom compartment without baying.

Yaffle entered inside the new room and stopped, standing a few feet from the open door, surveying the new residence of the dead family unit. Tarsal slowly moved inside and stopped, standing beside Yaffle, reading out loud the tiny screen on his mobile telephone. "A Bloodhound breed dog is famous for leading a man-trail for a police department. Their nose skills are so impressive that their 'doggie testimony' is admitted in a court of law." She continued to survey the interior room within the murder house, without moving around the furniture or from the doorway.

Tarsal voiced out loud from the tiny screen on his mobile telephone. "The Bloodhound breed was originally created to hunt down wild boar and local deer. The Bloodhound possesses a superior sense of smell, when it is compared to another breed dog. Their work ethic allows the dog to follow a cold scent that has been left for days. The sense of smell for a canine is between 10,000 and 100,000 times greater than a man. The nasal chamber which is part of the inner node on the bloodhound dog is large and thick. Their nasal cavity contains 300 million scent receptors which is more than any other dog breed. A human possesses five million screen receptors. Their pair of big hanging ears catches the scent and then prevents the wind from scattering away the scent molecules. And the Bloodhound can also air scent," he looked up to see the second-floor level. The dog continued to silently move through the house.

Tarsal smiled. "Wow! Is Rafiki air scenting the air molecules now?"

"Yes, he is doing that also when he jogs in the hallway between the bedrooms on the second-floor level, "Yaffle continued to watch her dog on the second floor level with puzzlement. "The Basset Hound dog is the cousin of the Bloodhound. Each hound dog is the perfect tracking dog with a large, long head, a nose with large open nostrils, and a pair of long ears that sweep the scent upward from the ground. Each dog possesses a cape of loose skin around the head and neck to trap and retain the scent. But the stamina and the persistence make the Bloodhound dog the superior trailing dog."

Tarsal looked down and voiced out loud the information on his tiny screen. "Since first century AD, dogs have hunted by scent and tracked down animals. In the poem, by Earl of Hereford, which was entitled William of Palerne, in the year 1350, the Bloodhound was a careful hunter tracking down a couple of thieves. The word bloodhound comes from the English language and has proclaimed its aristocratic status of the dog which had been kept by noblemen throughout the years. Thus, the dog is called the 'blooded' hound." He looked up with a smile to see the second floor. The dog continued to smell the floor and slowly strolled back and forth into each bedroom. "Wow! This is fun and fascinating."

Pearlet looked down at the rug, seeking any additional grass or dirt clumps that came from the feet of the dog or Yaffle, who was not supposed to be here for any reason.

Tarsal looked down with a grin and continued to read out loud the information on the tiny screen from his personal mobile telephone. "The earlier scent hounds were called a Saint Hubert hound that had been bred by a monk from the Saint Hubert Abbey. The breed dog was capable of following an old or cold trail of any animal, during the hunt. O! I guess there were not a lot of thievery back in the abbey," laughing. "In the foreign country of France, the dog is referenced as a Saint Hubert hound today. William the Conqueror from the county of France took a pack of bloodhounds with him to England when he invaded in the year 1066. Queen Elizabeth I kept packs of St. Hubert hounds at her castle. The bloodhounds were prized in the country of England for their nose kills in the hunt and for their ability to trace down thieves. During the lousy American colonial times, Benjamin Franklin acquired a pack Bloodhounds to track down attacking Native American Indians away from the white people settlements. Throughout the years, the Bloodhound dog breed had its ups and downs like most dog breeds. Today, the Bloodhound dog is employed by a law enforcement agency as a man-trailer for a murderer..."

"Look!" Yaffle continued to stand on top of the foyer level and pointed at the dog with a smile. "Rafiki found a distinct smell." The dog appeared on top of the staircase and then swiftly moved down the steps with its nose down, smelling the polished wood on each step. The dog landed on top of the wooden floor and then circled the wooden floor inside the foyer level a couple of times.

Pearlet continued to stand beside Yaffle with a sour frown and crossed both of her arms. "Yeah, it looks lost to me."

The dog completed the circle and then turned, moving ahead into the living room. Yaffle, Pearlet, and Tarsal slowly followed the dog without disturbing its scent work. The dog sniffed the floor and then performed a couple of circles, leading the group into the dining room. The dog continued to sniff the wooden floor and then moved ahead into the den room. Yaffle, Pearlet, and Tarsal followed behind the dog and stopped inside the archway on the den room. Inside the den room, a living room setting with a long sofa and two end tables stood against one of the side walls, where a large window exposed the side manicured lawn and the CSI van and Tarsal's pickup truck on top of the grass.

The opposite wall was painted in soft peach hue and displayed a very large mounted picture of the dead family unit. The forward wall contained a long row of windows that exhibited the front lawn, the street level, and the woods. Below each window, a line of long sofas stood with a side table between each piece of furniture. On the entrance wall, the entrance door was located in the wall intersection and a second archway held the open archway that led into the kitchen. In the middle of the room, a white tinted grand piano stood which was covered in red tinted blood strikes. The dog sniffed the white tinted carpet that was clear of blood, slowly moving around the room.

Pearlet entered first with a sour frown, moved inside, and stopped a few feet down the entrance wall, without tracking any more dirt or grass onto the crime scene. Tarsal followed Pearlet and stopped, standing beside her, wearing a stern face. He had seen this room before during his police investigation.

Yaffle appeared and stood inside the open archway in the den room with a gasp of shock, scanning the new room. "What is this room?"

Pearlet pointed at the piano with a stern face. "This is the music room with a great big piano in the middle of the room. The living room furniture provided an entertainment setting for the oldest daughter who was learning to play the piano. The daughter was only eight years old at her death. So, sad."

"Can an eight-year-old child learn to play the piano?" Tarsal continued to stand and surveyed the room.

Pearlet nodded. "Yes, piano lessons start at the age of eight years old with music theory and learning to touch the keys." Yaffle moved ahead and strolled down the side wall in front of the wall portrait of the family while staring at her dog. The dog continued to sniff the white carpet around the room and then headed back towards the piano without baying.

Yaffle gasped. "This is so terrible. The piano is covered in blood."

Pearlet nodded. "Yes, the murderer attacked the child right there on top of the piano bench. The piano bench and the nice white carpet below and the part of white and black tinted keyboard on the piano, all are covered in her dried blood proteins. The police have guessed that the eight-year-old child was playing the piano and didn't hear the screams or see the actions of the murderer during the kill. The child was murdered here in this room."

Yaffle slowly moved around each wall without tracking dirt into the crime scene and then stopped, standing slightly diagonally from the kitchen archway. "There is a second entrance door that leads into the kitchen. I saw that when I was standing inside the kitchen. But my old eyeballs didn't pick up the red blood here inside the music room on the piano, the carpet, the piano bench."

Tarsal frowned. "What does this mean to you, Yaffle?"

Pearlet sneered. "It means. We're wasting our police time here, Tarsal. Someone will come by and then..."

"Look!" Yaffle pointed down at the dog with a gasp. The dog sniffed the carpet with the blood and then jumped from the floor and stood on top of the semi-bloody piano bench, sniffing the polished wood and then he sniffed the keyboard on the piano, without baying.

"What is the dog doing up there on the piano bench?" Tarsal stared at the dog with a gasp.

Pearlet gasped in shock and pointed at the dog. "Get that dog off that piano bench right now! He's smearing the blood all over the place. Now, it is covered onto the doggie booties also."

Yaffle looked with puzzlement at her dog. "Rafiki, what are you smelling?" The dog continued to sniff the piano bench and then the keyboard on the piano again.

Pearlet slammed both of her arms down to her legs. "Well, it's obvious to me. The dog smells the scent of the murderer. The murderer had grabbed the eight-year-old child from behind and then stabbed her with the killing instrument. The scent of the murderer is all over the piano bench and the keyboard." The dog continued to sniff the piano bench and then the keyboard, without moving.

"No." Yaffle continued to stand by the row of window and survey the crime scene. "There is more here that the human eye is not seeing, but my dog is. Rafiki, tell me more!" The dog continued to sniff the piano bench and the keyboard, without moving. Yaffle moved ahead in silence, stopped, and surveyed the piano bench and the angle of each blood strike within her mind.

Pearlet didn't move from the entrance wall of peach hue and waved both of her arms in the air, saying with a sour frown. "Get away from the crime scene, Yaffle! You are going to get me into trouble. You do not have permission to search the crime scene."

Tarsal moved ahead, stopped, and stood on the opposite side on the grand piano without blood strikes. "What does the dog smell? What are you saying, Yaffle?"

Yaffle pointed down at the carpet and then the dog with a stern face. "Rafiki is telling me that the murderer scent is on top of the piano bench, not on the floor. He smells the murderer's scent on the keyboard also."

Pearlet dropped both of her arms and crossed her body, wearing a sour frown, staring at the dog, "That doesn't make any sense, Yaffle. The murderer had to move into the music room coming from the kitchen to kill the little girl."

Yaffle pointed at the entrance door with a stern face. "The murderer did come from the side wall entrance door. Rafiki didn't find a murderer scent there. He didn't find a murderer scent anywhere else inside the house. But he is finding the murderer scent right here inside this room. So, the murderer was inside this room with the eight-year-old girl."

Tarsal gasped. "How is that possible? So, the murderer is a friend or a family member of the eight-year-old girl."

Yaffle extended her hand while surveying the bloody spot near the kitchen archway. "Do you have a picture of the murdered eight-year-old child? I wanna see where the body rested after the murder." Pearlet reached inside her purse and pulled out the glossy colored photographs, handing the stack to Tarsal. Tarsal handed the stack to Yaffle. Yaffle accepted the stack and slowly flipped through each one, studying each dead body with a gasp. "I can explain."

"Well, explain something here, before I get into trouble." Pearlet crossed her arms with a sour frown.

Yaffle pointed down to the photograph in the stack of pictures. "This photograph is a picture of the eight-year-old child. The child is ripped apart at the neck going down to the tenth rib cage on the right side. The murderer was standing on the child's right side. The dead body of the child landed inside the kitchen archway. The child was playing the piano. So, the murderer was inside here and jumped onto the piano bench and grabbed the child on the right side of neck, lifting her off the piano bench, using some instrument, ripping the side neck muscle on the child down to the rib cage. Blood has been slung everywhere. Do you see this? You can see this. Look at each blood strikes! Each blood strike is a creative piece of work, not a puddle of flat liquid. It looks like each blood strike has been painted, not smeared. It looks like each blood strike has been flung onto the wall like a piece of art.

"There are individual blood strikes on the wall, on the carpet, on the keyboard, and on the piano base. On top of the piano bench, there still shows a large dried pocket of blood, where the murderer had ripped the body of the child apart at the arm socket. Then the dead body of the child had been dragged towards the kitchen entrance. No. No. That can't be right." she pointed down at the carpet. "Look there! There is a faint line of blood like the blood had been tossed or pitched over the carpet from the piano bench towards the archway and then..." She gasped in shock.

Pearlet gasped. "What are you doing, Yaffle? Your death theory is making no sense to me. Tarsal, we need to leave and review all the cardboard boxes, before we..."

"Get over here, Tarsal!" Yaffle moved ahead and pointed down at the solid line of blood, jabbing her finger into the kitchen. Tarsal strolled towards the kitchen archway while avoiding the thick stream of dried blood on the white carpet.

Yaffle pointed back at the piano bench, where the dog was still sniffing the bench and the keyboard in silence. She nodded. "The murderer is here inside the music room and then jumps onto the piano bench, attacking the little girl. Then the murderer lifts and shakes the body of the little girl into the air while flinging all of her individual blood proteins everywhere here in the music room. The wall, the carpet, the piano are not solid puddles of blood but strikes of blood. The murderer rips off her arm from her body on top of the piano bench leaving it here, which kills the little girl. Then he tosses the little girl over the carpet towards the kitchen entrance way. Then he sees the back spine on the upright mother of the little girl. Yes. I can see the killing pattern more clearly now. Rafiki, tell me more!"

The Bloodhound dog leaped off the piano bench and stood on top of the carpet, lowering a nose, smelling the carpet. He did not move, but only stood in silence. Then the dog slowly moved ahead and then back tracked like he lost the scent.

Yaffle stared down at her dog with a gasp. "Rafiki, what is wrong? Did you lose the scent of the murderer?"

Pearlet continued to stand against the wall with a sour frown while watching the action. "How is that possible? He is a scent hound. I do remember someone reading out loud all that information from his mobile telephone screen."

The dog leaped back onto the piano bench and then lowered the nose, sniffing the bench and the keyboard, getting the scent. The dog bent down and then jumped from the piano bench, sailing through the air, landing inside the open kitchen archway.

Tarsal gasped. "What happened over there? Why did the dog jump from the piano bench and then sail through the air, landing on the floor? I have never seen a dog leap like that. What does it mean, Yaffle?"

"Halt, Rafiki!" Yaffle ordered. The dog stood in open archway and lowered the nose, sniffing the scent. She gasped. "What does it mean? It means exactly what I thought. I wanna ya'll to remember that a bloodhound is also can perform an air scent in the air as well as nose scent on the ground. I want ya'll to watch Rafiki. I know how the murderer's killing pattern. Now, I'm going to narrate it to you as Rafiki performs his ballet dance..."

"What ballet dance?" Pearlet tossed both of her arms in the air with a sour frown. "What are you talking about, old woman? You need to leave right now. This is ridiculous, Tarsal We're going to..."

"Get back over to the piano bench, Rafiki!" Yaffle pointed at the piano bench. The dog looked up from the floor and tilted the skull at its mistress, looking back at the piano bench. The dog raced ahead then leaped from the carpet landing down on top of the piano bench. Yaffle continued to stand beside the entrance archway into the kitchen and looked up with a smile to see her dog. "My dog is going to follow the scent of the murderer. And the scent is both on the ground and in the air."

"What?" Pearlet gasped in alarm. Tarsal nodded in silence.

Yaffle smiled at her dog. "Rafiki, follow the scent for the two nice police officers of the murderer." The dog lowered the nose and encircled the piano bench, leaning over, sniffing the keyboard. Then the dog leaped into the air and landed inside the kitchen archway.

Yaffle pointed down at the large dried puddle of blood. "The murderer didn't drag the child onto the floor. The murderer and the child leaped from the piano bench, flying into the air like Rafiki did. So, the eight-year-old child body landed here." Pearlet and Tarsal scooted around and stood on the opposite side of the kitchen archway, while watching the dog.

The Bloodhound turned to face the dirty floor on the kitchen and lowered a nose, sniffing the dried blood, slowly moving ahead and then halted, looking up with a softy whine. The dog lowered the skull and then sniffed the floor in a tight circle while losing the scent of the murderer. The Bloodhound back stepped and stood inside the archway, sniffing the bloody floor and the bloody carpet and then looked up. The dog leaped into the air and then landed on top of the isolated kitchen island, lowering a nose, sniffing the hard surface, rattling some of the dirty dishes.

Yaffle continued to stand near the archway and laughed with a nod. "I told you. A Bloodhound is can also air scent too. My dog has sniffed the air waves and found the murderer's scent."

Pearlet dropped open her mouth. "That is impossible."

Yaffle nodded with a smile. "A Bloodhound is possible."

Yaffle, Pearlet, and Tarsal carefully moved ahead and slowly entered into the kitchen, the crime scene. They stopped and stood a few feet from the kitchen archway, watching the dog in silence.

The Bloodhound encircled the flat kitchen island surface a few times and then turned to face the side wall, looking up, seeing the rest of the kitchen furniture. The dog leaped down off the kitchen island surface and dropped down onto the floor, lowering a nose, sniffing through the dried blood. The dog slowly moved ahead on top of the bloody floor and then halted encircling the floor and then started to back track its doggie steps into the kitchen island. The dog spun around and then leaped back onto the kitchen island surface.

Pearlet continued to stand between Tarsal and Yaffle and gasped in confusion. "What is the dog doing?"

Yaffle smiled at her dog. "The dog lost the murderer's scent on the floor, because the scent of the murderer didn't walk over the floor like a man."

Pearlet gasped in puzzlement. "What does that mean, Doctor Yaffle?"

Tarsal whispered and observed the dog, "Watch!"

The dog lowered its skull and sniffed with its nose, encircling the flat kitchen surface, looking up and stared at the kitchen counter. Its nose sniffed the air waves. The dog leaped into the air and raced across the flat kitchen counter that was covered in strikes of blood also, landing on top of the flat dining room table.

"What is the dog doing?" Pearlet gasped in shock and stared at the dog.

Yaffle slowly moved ahead through the dirty, bloody floor, wearing the pair of rubber shoes and then stopped next to the kitchen island table. "My dog has performed an air scent looking for the murderer. The murderer left the kitchen island through the air and then ran across the kitchen counter and then landed on top of the dining room table." The dog lowered its nose and sniffed on top of the dining room table surface, leading over to sniff on the baby's high chair.

Tarsal gasped. "That high chair is where the baby died."

The dog sniffed the top of the high chair and then leaned over sniffing the back rest on the dining room chair, looking up, tilting a skull at the wall with the dull red tinted blood strikes. The dog spun around and stared through the archway, sniffing the air waves with its big nose. Its ears flapped side to side with movement.

Tarsal gasped in shock. "What is the dog doing?"

Yaffle smiled. "A Bloodhound can scent the trail for days on the ground and through the air. My dog is sniffing the air waves on top of the table surface."

The dog leaped off the dining room flat surface then landed on top of the bloody kitchen floor, dropping down the nose, sniffing the dried blood for the scent of the murderer. The dog slowly scooted around and then stopped, sniffing the face on the dead father.

Tarsal gasped in shock. "Do you see that? Did you see that? The murderer's scent went to the face of the dead father."

Pearlet frowned. "Of course, the murderer scent is on the missing face of the dead father. His face has been ripped off."

The dog scooted down and sniffed the open chest cavity wound, where the heart was missing. Then the dog looked up and tilted its skull, facing the exterior archway that led into the patio brick surface. The dog lowered its skull and sniffed the bloody floor, slowly moving ahead, heading towards the open archway on the kitchen door.

Yaffle moved ahead with a smile and followed the dog, marching over the dried bloody floor in the rubber shoes. "My dog is taking us directly to the murderer. Get moving! Get going!"

Pearlet continued to stand in place and gasped in shock, watching the back spine on Yaffle. "How...how can the dog do that?"

Tarsal gasped in shock and followed the back spine on Yaffle. "The dog is scenting the murderer's trail."

Pearlet continued to stand in place and shouted out loud. "Who is the murderer, Doctor Yaffle?" Yaffle skirted around the counter edge then followed the tail on her bloodhound. The bloodhound ran out the kitchen door, over the patio brick, following the dried bloody trail of paw prints. Running its nose over the grass, the dog still followed the dried bloody trail of paw prints and then stopped, circling the bloody spot on the grass.

At 01:11 pm among the hot temperatures with bright sunshine on top of the manicured yard, Yaffle continued to dash behind the tail on the dog, exited from the kitchen, and then stopped, standing in the flat grass, staring down at the bloody spot of mixed dark red and green grass. She squatted down with a puzzled brow then reached out, almost touching and then stopped her hand. "What happened in here?"

Tarsal ran out the kitchen archway first with Pearlet at his back spine and raced over the patio brick, the manicured grass, and then halted beside Yaffle. He squatted down with a frown at the bloody spot. "O! That's where the family pet dog got killed by Wallis Wollen. He had a shotgun to protect his girlfriend as he was having an adultery affair with another female. The family pet dog raced after his girlfriend while thinking she was the murderer of his family." The dog continued to sniff the bloody spot, without baying.

"Why isn't the dog barking or baying?"

Tarsal jabbed his finger at the woods with a worried brow. "The dog has picked up the manly or womanly or murder's smell. Why isn't the dog chasing after the man?"

Yaffle smiled down at her dog. "Some of the bloodhound personalities do not bay or bark. Yes, Rafiki is indeed a single-minded beast on the murder's trail. However, once a bloodhound dog finds his quarry, the canine will lick the person to death. He will never attack, even a vicious murderer."

Pearlet tossed both of her arms in the air still holding her mobile telephone, wearing a sour frown. "Why in the universe are we still here at the murder house? The dog found the murderer's smell. We need to perform the next task, finding the murderer. Go, doggie! Go and get the murderer!"

Yaffle squatted down then reached out, gently patting her dog with a smile. "A Bloodhound dog is a gentle and affectionate mammal, but he is far from lazy like those Hollywood movie films exhibit. A Bloodhound like Rafiki can follow a scent trail for miles and smiles, instead of sleeping on the front porch. He also likes to take a long walk every day."

Pearlet stopped with a gasp and stood beside Tarsal, staring down at the silver tinted hair roots on Yaffle. "What are you talking about, Doctor Yaffle?"

Tarsal looked down and stared at the bloody spot on the grass, looking up with a gasp to see the thick green and brown tinted woods. "I know who murdered the entire Wollen family."

Yaffle slowly stood upright from the grass and turned, staring at the nose profile on Tarsal. "The Felton police detective needs to contact Mr. Wallis Wollen. He holds more information which will confirm the murderer here."

Pearlet gasped in shock. "No. We can't contact Wallis Wollen. He has..."

"We will," Tarsal spun around with a stern face and moved ahead towards his pickup truck. "Pearlet, please lock up the murder house tight and drive the CSI van back to the police station. Yaffle, please take Rafiki and get into your van and follow me. You need to explain your new finding to Police Chief Zimb, after I tell him who murdered the three family units."

Police station location

Police Chief Office setting

01:18 pm

Inside his new office, new Police Chief Zimb sat behind the same pale blue tinted metal chrome office desk that used to belong to a fired and unemployed Police Chief Melum. He sat beside a tall stack of papers and slowly reached over, lifting up the next stack of stapled papers into his face, reading the contents with a stern face. He reached over then placed the same stack of papers in the middle pile of three stacks of papers at the top of the desk with a sour frown.

The office door was opened and as the new police chief was available for any type of discussion during any hour of the day as opposed to fired Police Chief Melum, who kept her office door shut all the time.

Police detective Tarsal appeared and stood inside the open archway while laughing out loud at Zimb. At the office desk, Zimb looked up with a sneer to see his employee. "I hope there's a funny joke behind that evil laugh, Tarsal."

Tarsal moved inside the police office and continued to laugh, pointing down at Zimb. "It is. It's you. We have found the murderer."

Zimb stood upright from the pale blue metal office chair with a gasp and then smiled with a nod. "Who is the murderer, Tarsal?"

Yaffle stood behind Tarsal and then scooted around the back spine on Tarsal, strolling ahead into the room, stopping a few feet from the office desk with a stern face. "The murderer is a non-human."

Zimb turned and frowned at the crazy physician, who had tried but failed to commit suicide. "What does that mean? I don't understand, Awful, Yaffle."

Yaffle nodded with a sneer to Zimb. "The murderer is a non-human."

He laughed. "I don't believe it or you. That...that is not humanly possible!"

She frowned. "Wallis Wollen, that man has not been truthful about his unique presence there at the brother's house."

Zimb frowned. "Again, what does that statement mean? I don't understand again."

Tarsal stood beside Yaffle and nodded with a sneer. "That means. We need to go and get..."

"No." Zimb shook his skull and waved both of his arms in the air, saying with a sour frown. "I need more evidence or justification to drag fellow citizen Wallis Wollen back here into the police station. Do you not recall, Tarsal? Wollen is in the processing of suing two police stations and two Chamber of Commerce committees. He'll end up owning the town of Felton by the end of the week, if we keep accusing him of murder and implement more false arrests. No. I hope the evil man leaves the State of Alabama today and enjoys his new life on that isolated Caribbean island somewhere, which is not near me."

Yaffle nodded with a stern face. "I concur with our assessment of additional justification, Zimb. So, you need to call in another animal veterinarian that works here in Felton for his or her medical opinion."

He frowned. "Why would I do that, Yaffle? You're an animal veterinarian."

Yaffle nodded. "You need for a second and third local veterinarian to see and then examine each mark on every dead body that you are keeping here inside your hidden morgue room. Yeah, everyone knows about your hidden morgue room," she laughed. "The other two veterinarians will see and then conclude the same answer."

Zimb exhaled and reached over, picking up the telephone receiver, hearing the front desk officer. "Lim, do you own a cat or a dog?" He listened to the response on the other end of landline telephone receiver. Zimb smiled. "Good! Please call into the police station your dog's veterinarian. And, also, place a call to my dog's veterinarian Doctor Sochom. Thank you," he exhaled with a nod. "All right! I have placed the call. What else did you find at the murder scene that will help there?"

Tarsal smiled. "That's it."

Zimb frowned. "That...is...it."

He pointed down to the dog. "The dog did most of the hard work."

Zimb frowned. "What dog?" He looked down to see the bloodhound dog beside Yaffle. "Did you pack up all the loose papers from each murder house?"

Pearlet nodded with a smile. "Yes, but..."

"Good!" Zimb smiled. "Bring all the boxes into the police station and record them and then store them inside our police vault. If your new death theory doesn't work out, then you will start on the paper trail, this afternoon. Everyone, get outta of my office, right now!" Each person spun around and exited the office environment. The office door slammed shut.

Tarsal moved ahead from the closed office door and then stopped, standing a few feet, laughing with amusement. "What do we do now?"

Pearlet pointed to the entrance doors, where the van was parked. "We go and get the boxes out from the van and store them inside the storage room."

"Excellent idea! We take a break," Tarsal squatted down and patted the dog. "I bet Rafiki is thirsty and hungry," he laughed.

Fifteen minutes later, the first veterinarian arrived and was escorted inside the morgue storage room by Yaffle. She did not prep the guest with information, only pointed at each dead body.

The first veterinarian examined each body and then left the morgue storage room, sitting inside the police chief office, softly chatting with Zimb.

The second veterinarian was also quick with his assessment from the numerous dead people inside the morgue storage room and then returned into the police chief's office. He moved inside the space and sat down inside an empty chair, staring with a smile at the new Felton police chief Zimb.

Inside the office environment, Pearlet and Tarsal sat inside a mint green tinted metal chair, staring at Zimb. Yaffle moved inside with her dog Rafiki and stood against the pale blue painted walls in silence.

At the office desk, Zimb slowly stood upright from the chair and stared at the second veterinarian, saying with a puzzled brow. "Well, someone, tell me the answer here! Who is the murderer of three family units including a mother, a father and their three children?"

Wallis Wollen appeared and stood inside the archway wearing a sour frown and a pair of walking shorts in yellow tone, a pair of flip-flops, and a matching short-sleeved shirt and stared at Zimb.

The first veterinarian continued to sit in the chair and slipped the cold tea, saying with a smile to Zimb. "The murderer is a wild animal."

The second veterinarian continued to sit in the chair and nodded with a smile to Zimb. "The murderer is a wild animal."

Yaffle nodded with a stern face to Zimb. "I agree with my two colleagues."

Inside the open archway, Wallis gasped in shock and then looked down at the floor, slowing back stepping from the office space in silence. Zimb scooted around his office desk and wore a sour frown, moving ahead, staring at the brown tinted hair on Wallis. "Mr. Wollen, is there something you want to add in your statement about the day that your brother and his family members were murderer?"

Yaffle slid sideways from the side wall and spun around, slowly moving out from the office, staring at the brown tinted hair roots on Wallis also. "Why were you conveniently toting around a shotgun the day that your brother was murdered?" Each occupant inside the police chief office slowly stood upright from the chair and then spun around, following the back spine on Yaffle and stopped, forming a straight line between Zimb and Yaffle inside the police work space. Each one stared at Wallis Wollen.

Wallis continued to move backwards into the police work space, then stopped, and looked up with a gasp and a nod. "The shotgun came from my house. I carry a..."

She stopped and stood a few feet beside Zimb, saying with a sneer. "Why did you kill the family pet?"

Wallis frowned. "The open mouth with sharp fangs on that dog was covered in red tinted blood. The dog was going to attack my girlfriend. That dog thought she had killed its family members."

"I didn't see that," Tarsal frowned. "Why were the fangs covered in blood?"

She nodded with a smile. "The family pet had licked each dead family member. That's a sign of love and understanding of death."

Tarsal nodded with a smile. "O!"

Pearlet shook her curls with a sour frown. "No. The dog was chasing after the thing that killed its family members."

Wallis jabbed his finger at Tarsal with a sad frown. "Listen here! I did not harm my brother or his family members. I love...loved my brother. Now, my brother is dead, without cause or explanation. That is your police job to find the murderer. Or do I need to remove you from your paid police job?"

Yaffle waved her hand. "I am not referencing you, Wollen. You saw something come out of the Wollen murder house. So, what was it?"

Wollen gasped in shock and shook his skull. "I only saw the family dog come out from the murder house."

She jabbed her unpolished finger with a sneer at Wallis. "Then you saw something the night before, or the night before that, when you were entertaining your new girlfriend in the woods like a redneck. What was it, Wollen?"

Zimb continued to stand in the line and gasped in shock. "What did you see out there, Mr. Wollen?"

Wollen looked down at the floor again and then returned back to see Tarsal. "I saw something like a wild animal that was standing at the edge of the woods, behind my house a few nights, before my brother and his family had been killed."

Zimb gasped in alarm. "What was it?"

He frowned. "I don't know."

Yaffle nodded with a stern face. "I do know."

Zimb turned and frowned at the nose profile on Yaffle. "What was it?"

Inside the open police work space, one of the smart college students with a head of purple hair, a pair of eyeglasses, and a queen-sized body moved away from her work desk and stopped, standing beside Tarsal. She carried her police laptop and said with a stern face to Zimb. "The wild animal is a coyote or a mountain lion. During the construction on the new interstate roadway, the construction company had to blast away all mountain solid rock. The blasting and strangers scared all the native animals. Since then, every single wild animal has fled out from the woods. People throughout the city have been complaining about a wild animal or two. Some people have seen the wild animal up close and personally also. A coyote attack on a human is becoming a common occurrence. Within the US State of California, there had been two confirmed death attacks on two humans. The coyote packs are not scared of the humans as the humans continue to feed the wild animals. When the coyote has been human-fed, then the coyote will chase after a jogger or a bicyclist or a walking person for a handout of food."

Yaffle nodded with a smile to the young college student. "Thank you, miss! Your wildlife coyote explanation is both valid and accurate."

In the line of occupants, police detective Pearlet tossed both of her arms in the air with a sour frown. "Wait! Wait! If the murderer is really a wild animal, how did the wild animal get into all the three murder houses? Each window was locked and sealed." She dropped both of her arms and slapped her naked legs.

Tarsal snapped his fingers and then slapped his chest with a nod. "I know. I know that answer. The Wollen house, on the side of the house, the garage door is unlocked. The weather is hot and humid without rain for days and weeks since the first of spring. And the wild animal is looking for a cool spot and a pail of water too. During our police investigation, the garage door was still unlocked. That meant, no one knew it was open. So, this is the death theory.

"The vicious, hot, and hungry wild animal enters the open garage door and then enters the house when the second garage door is opened also. The garage space is cool and inviting from the heated sunlight. Then the wild animal creeps around the quiet house undetected. It comes to the first human inside the music room. The music room was covered in painted strikes of blood from the ceiling down to the carpet. I have never seen a pattern blood strikes like that in photographs or at a crime scene.

"So, the vicious wild animal lion crawls over the floor and then leaps into the air, striking the young girl on top of the piano bench, ripping off her arm. Then the wild animal leaps off from the piano bench dragging the girl inside its bloody mouth and exposed red tinted fangs. It releases the little girl, who lands down inside the open archway, dead. The wild animal leaps into the air and attacks the mother on the back spine as she is preparing the evening meal. The set of fangs on the wild animal reaches down and then rips through the tiny waistline on the mother, where her upper body falls down onto the kitchen island. Then the wild animal leaps off the island and soars through the air, landing on top of the flat, sturdy dining room table. The baby is helplessly strapped down inside its baby high chair. The wild animal slices a paw of sharp claws through the small and tender neckline on the baby, severing the head. The baby head lands on top of the floor near the entranceway. The little boy stands upright from his dining room trying to escape from the wild animal that has invaded his home. The wild animal reaches out and slices at the neckline on the boy, catching the tender flesh within the cupped paw, dragging the arm off the boy also.

"Then the father comes into the kitchen and stops a few feet inside the room in shock and awe. The wild animal spins around on top of the table and then leaps into the air, opening its mouth, attacking the face on the father. The father and the wild animal fall on the floor. The wild animal is only a wild animal. It reaches down and tears into the chest, ripping out the hart. The wild animal eats the warm organ. A wild animal like a feline cat will lonely eat the warm meat on its dead prey, not the cold meat of any dead prey."

Pearlet frowned. "So, tell me this! The Wollen family had a Giant Schnauzer. Why didn't that giant track dog smell the wild animal with its nose inside the house?"

Yaffle nodded. "That dog was old. Both of its eyes and ears are not as sharp as a young canine. The old canine didn't hear or see or smell the wild animal. That's the only explanation as I am a veterinarian."

Tarsal nodded. "However, the family dog comes down for its supper meal and then discovers the bloody slaughter of its family members and also the new animal scent. The family dog is following the wild animal scent until he encounters a stupid man with a stupid gun. If you had not shot the poor family dog, Wallis, then the family dog would have led the police straight to the wild beast that night," he sneered. Wollen looked down with a sad face at the floor in silence.

Pearlet frowned. "So, did a wild animal eat the Jarvis family unit also inside their trailer?"

Yaffle nodded. "Yes, once a wild animal tastes blood, it wants more. It needs more blood like a vampire bat. The wild animal is smart and sneaky, not bold and brave. The wild animal probably scouted out the Jarvis family for days, before it attacked."

Zimb frowned. "What kind of wild animal are we talking about here?"

The college student with the purple streaks in her hair and a pair of eyeglasses pointed down at her police laptop. "I wrote a computer program to access the common words, wild animal, within the police database. The police computer had found twenty-four sightings for either a yellow tinted coyote or a tawny colored mountain lion within the last six months here in the city limits of Felton and Gardenville."

Zimb turned and gasped to Yaffle. "Is that true, Doctor Yaffle? Does a pack of wild coyotes and mountain lions live with us here in Felton?"

Yaffle pointed at the college student with a smile. "Yes, the young college student is right. The blasting of the rock and the shearing of the land has depleted the natural woods out there by new interstate. The woody home of the wild animals is gone. So, the pack of wild animals has no choice but to flee and find a new food source. This is their home too."

Pearlet sneered with worry. "This is my home too. They can get up and go and move someplace else."

Zimb nodded with a stern fac. "I agree also. So, we will force them to move someplace else."

Yaffle gasped. "First, you can't do that. Second, how can you do that?"

Zimb reached down and pulled out his hand gun up from his leg sheath, holding near his sneer. "We find them and then kill them removing them from our city limits. Then we don't worry about a pack of wild animals hurting or harming any more people," he replaced the hand gun and then grabbed his personal mobile telephone.

"You can't do that. Every wild animal lived here before us." Tarsal frowned.

"Of course, he can. Do it, to it, Police Chief Zimb!" Pearlet smiled with a nod. If Zimb found and then killed each roaring wild animal, then the triple murder case would be solved finally. Then Pearlet could continue her new police detective job without stress, pressure, and the threat of a personal lawsuit coming from Wallis Wollen. She nodded. "That wild, loose animal has attacked a human, maybe fifteen times. That's a lot of blood and a lot of desire to kill again without a motive, intent of harm, and a deadly weapon."

Yaffle nodded with a worried brow. "A wild animal has a weapon which is both of its claws and fangs. A wild animal has no motive, only a human has a secret motive. A wild animal's intent is to kill you, if you invade its prey territory. That's what has happened here. The construction of the new interstate disrupted their prey territory. Now, they are preying on humans as a new food source. We are their new pretty prey territory. We have no choice or option here, Zimb."

The second veterinarian nodded with a stern face. "I agree with Doctor Yaffle. If there is a wild animal that had already attacked and killed and consumed numerous humans, then the wild animal will kill again and again and again. Its food territory is gone up there on the mountain top near the new interstate roadway. A wild animal is only hungry and wants to eat to survive, like a human. And, now, the wild animal has found a human body to be very tasty."

Zimb tossed both of his arms in the air with his personal mobile telephone, saying with a smile. "That's it! We form a posse of hunters for Saturday morning and trace down that wild beast. The wild beast must live within the woods inside Black Creek Park. Do you believe that statement to be true, Doctor Yaffle?"

Yaffle nodded with a stern face. "Yes."

He dropped down both of his arms and looked down his mobile telephone, saying with a smile. "Excellent answer, Doctor Yaffle! Now, I want every police officer and police support person to grab their personal mobile telephone and access the police text account. I'm texting out a message for your use and send this text message to all your friends and all your family members and the rest of the citizens here in Felton and Gardenville."

Game hunt on Saturday morning at seven o'clock.

Bring your own gun.

No hunting license required.

Meet on the eastern edge of Black Creek Park.

$5,000 for each killed wild animal.

No canine dogs or feline cats.

Growls and sneers, Police Chief Zimb!!!

Her mobile telephone sounded with a sweet romantic song. Pearlet whipped out her mobile telephone and looked down, seeing the new text message from her supervisor Zimb, gasping in shock. "What are you doing, Zimb?"

He looked up with a grin and a nod. "I'm using social media to relay a message to all citizens. We're hosting a free hunting party there in Black Creek Park on Saturday morning. Now, each police officer can participate in the game hunts. I'm leading the hunting expedition. Everyone, come and wear your old pair of blue jeans and an old tee shirt also. Or each police officer can man a station with food and drinks. But everyone is required to be there or be square," he laughed.
Saturday June 9th

Black Creek Park location

Side street setting

07:07 am

Hot temperatures with bright sunshine

The beginning of the Black Creek Park started at the edge of a city street made of smooth gray pavement and moved westerly onto a flat grayish-white tinted gravel walking pathway.

The old railway trail had been turned into a walking/running/bicycling park. No motorized vehicles were allowed on top of the gravel. Every person had to walk or jog over the gravel.

An ancient softball field in dull red tinted dirt clay stood on each side of the gravel walking pathway that extended into the clearing of flat meadow grass. A single story red tinted brick building stood guard over the crowded tan colored parking lot that was filled with cars and standing people. The sky was tinted in pale blue without a white cloud. The air temperature blazed at eighty degrees at seven in the morning.

On top of the gravel walking pathway, a noisy crowd of hunters with a gun or two consisted of male and female teenagers, young, mature, and elderly adults, softly chatting and staring at Zimb. He was dressed in camouflage tan and black gear with a painted face in black vertical lines down both cheekbones. His hunting rifle rested down at his booted feet. Police Chief Zimb stood upright on top of the lowered tailgate of his pickup truck, wearing a smile, looking down at his personal mobile telephone. In the age of social media, a person didn't have to shout out instructions through a bull horn or wave an arm in the direction of the activity. Zimb typed out a message with the tiny keyboard that appeared on every mobile telephone which belonged to the hunter.

Welcome.

Start here at Black Creek Park and scout forward towards the west for 3.4 miles.

Lots of shade trees that hold a hiding spot with a wild beast.

The gravel bike path goes through the woods overlooking the creek and some deep valleys.

The woods are thick and secluded for another wild beast.

Everyone, start and go at your own pace for a wild beast.

Good luck!

Growls and sneers, Police Chief Zimb!!!

The gang of male and female hunters didn't make much vocal noise, slowly swinging around and formed small groups, slowly moving down the gravel walking pathway.

Some of the smaller groups swiftly moved ahead and quickly entered into the woods looking for the wild animal that had killed three family units including the father, the mother and their children.

At the end of the city street, on each paved side, a row of pickup truck parked backwards with the tailgate down. Each tailgate contained an open tub which housed one of the following items for each hunter, such like, cold drinks, bottled waters, cold beer, fresh fruits, candy bars, and health bars.

On the first parked pickup truck near the gravel road, Tarsal sat on the tailgate swinging a pair of sneakers off the edge, staring down at the gravel. He wore a pair of cargo pants and a short-sleeved pale blue shirt. Pearlet wore a pair of walking shorts in tan, a short-sleeved shirt in pink, and a pair of pink sneakers. They had volunteered to stay behind and watched over the food stations, which was only silver tinted metal tubs of food items. Most of the silver tinted metal tubs were empty.

Tarsal wiped the sweat from his brow with a stern face, slapping both hands into his lap. "Have you ever walked the Black Creek trail?"

"Yes, I had been jogged down the trail when I was younger. Now, I just old and tired. "Pearlet looked down the gravel pathway, seeing a lump of hunters, who slowly moved ahead. "Do you actually think some of these people are really wild game hunters?"

"No." He looked up and stared at the lump of upright bodies. "Everyone in Felton and Gardenville received the police text message from Zimb. But not everyone knows how to hunt game."

"Why are you not hunting for the beast? Don't you hunt wild animals? Why did you decide to stay behind?"

"I don't hunt. I don't agree with Police Chief Zimb."

"But it's the only way to capture the beast," she laughed.

"We could set out an animal trap along the woods and capture the wild animal. Then we could return it back into its natural habitat, not here in Felton."

She frowned. "That would take time and money. I don't think Felton City Council has that kind of money."

He frowned. "Then the Felton city council members should ask the US Federal Government for both money and resources. Heaven knows, every city does. Heaven knows, my taxes should pay for something that I like to do."

"Why are you so bitter?"

He exhaled. "The wild animal is only trying to make a living for itself or its animal family. Almighty God gave us domain, not destruction over each animal. There is a more human way."

"The wild animal wasn't human."

He exhaled. "The animal is not human. We are the smarter mammal. We walk upright. We talk. We carry guns."

Pearlet leaned back into one of the dry-feeling metal tubs, exhaling with stress, rubbing her tired face. "Well, today, it is to be an easy day at the office. I do not want to go back into the Wollen murder house again as long as I live. If this manhunt finds the non-human murderer, then I will be very, very happy," she dropped her hands and smiled at the thick green colored woods scenery. The quiet scenery of woods is soothing..."

The first gunshot echoed through the woods. Pearlet and Tarsal slid down and stood on top of the grass, turning to see the action. Then a second gunshot sound rang out loud inside the woods next. Then a series of individual gunshot sounds echoed throughout the woods.

At eight o'clock in the morning, the crowd of hunters slowly moved ahead sounding with cheers and shouts of joy. The leader of the crowd, police Chief Zimb drove a terrain vehicle that held an array of blood-dripping dead wild animals and then stopped his transport in the middle of the walking trail. He climbed on top of the engine hood and looked down at the tiny keyboard on his personal mobile telephone while sending a text to each hunter.

The hunt has ended.

Each hunter will receive a lump sum cash of $5,000 for the bagged and dead wild animal.

Thanks for participating in the wild animal hunt.

Our streets, our homes, and our lives are safe and free again.

Growls and sneers, Police Chief Zimb!!!

The crowd of hunters slowly scattered and dispersed back to their individual vehicle, leaving the Black Creek forest park.

Zimb climbed back down and entered into the driver's seat, performing a slow putt-putt towards his pickup truck. Behind him a row of hunters, who had killed a wild animal slowly followed behind the rear bumper on the terrain vehicle for their cash reward, wearing a bloody smile from the animal kill. He stopped the transport then slid out, moving ahead towards his personal pickup truck, opening the door and grabbed the small envelope of cash money. He quickly distributed the money pack to each winning hunter with a smile and a nod. Each hunter swiftly left the Black Creek Park with their new bootie.

On the tailgate of Tarsal's pickup truck, Tarsal continued to stare with a frown down the text message that came from Police Chief Zimb, where the hunters had killed a wild animal for acting wild within its own habitat.

Pearlet continued to sit beside Tarsal on the tailgate and stared down at the tiny screen on her personal mobile telephone, reading the same text message, feeling sad for each dead wild animal.

Zimb back stepped from the open truck door and moved ahead, huddling with his other employees, pointing down at the line of bloody dead wild animals with his new police orders. The huddle of police officers scattered around the park while some of the officers drove the terrain vehicle towards the police station.

Zimb moved ahead with a smile and a bloody face, stopped, and stood in front of the hair roots on Pearlet and Tarsal. "Well, it is finally over. The murderer of the triple family unit murders has been found and then eliminated..."

Pearlet looked up with a sneer. "You can..."

Zimb turned and smiled at Pearlet. "You are not employed here at the Felton Police Station, anymore, Tarsal and Pearlet. I am sorry. You have solved the triple murder mystery police case and the murder case has ended," he extended a bloody hand to Tarsal.

Tarsal looked up with a gasp and then down to see the bloody hand on Zimb. "Thanks for the fun time, Police Chief Zimb," he slid off the tailgate with Pearlet and spun around, closing up the truck, scooting around the side on the truck with a soft string of curse words and a sour frown.

Pearlet scooted around on the opposite side with a sour frown in silence. She had ridden with her police co-worker Tarsal, who would take her back home right now. They entered the pickup truck and exited the Black Creek Park.

Zimb stood in place with a smile and watched the red taillights blaze in red hue.
Monday June 10th

06:49 am

Hot temperatures with bright sunshine

Home property location of Tarsal Tarragon

Living room setting

The front door contained a glass screen and the wooden door on the long story ranch house. The wooden door was open. The glass screen was thick kept in the cold air inside house.

Tarsal sat on top of the sofa inside the living room space, looking at each wall, slowly drinking the cup of hot black coffee. Actually, each wall was bare and covered in sweet pale peach hue.

His mother had told her son the spark of the color would be a wonderful chat while Tarsal invited a girl over to his house. His mother didn't realize that two mating adults never discussed the color of dried paint.

Inside his house, the living room setting was a rectangle design with the entrance door on the shorter wall. The front porch was a flat piece of slab, without decoration. But his mother was offering too many suggestions, where Tarsal would refuse them all.

The long side wall held a row of low-lying windows, where he could see the thicket of green and brown tinted woods that was owned by his father. One day, Tarsal would own the plot of land, after his parents had passed away into heaven. Sometimes, a sweet tawny deer face would appear between the tree limbs, scouting out the long structure and then run off, frolicking back with their animal friends.

He turned and stared at the interior of his small living room. His house had been designed as one large room with an off-shoot hallway that led into a single bedroom and bathroom combination unit.

On the opposite end of his house, the forward wall held a line of shiny and new kitchen appliances for cooking which he usually experienced with but eventually would eat a delicious supper meal with his parents. In the middle of the room, a small dining room table held four chairs that were just right for two people to eat and talk about their future life.

The other side wall held a row of viewing windows with a hidden closet in-between each glass window. Tarsal didn't want to spoil the scenery of the forest with a hidden closet.

This was his little house. He and his father had built it from the soil up, after Tarsal had turned sixteen years old, the boy-man age for dating a female.

At the age of sixteen years old in the tenth grade at Felton High School, the living room space had only existed with a ratty brown leather sofa, and an older model television plasma for numerous electronic entertainment programs. Tarsal could escape into the world of pretend with his numerous video games while shouting out loud without bothering his parents.

His old bedroom set of a mattress and box springs had been placed inside the living room setting, after he had graduated from high school at the age of eighteen years old. Tarsal had attended the local university by commuting to college, coming home every afternoon, sleeping in his own bed. He had liked doing that. His parents had liked Tarsal doing that. And the college girl had liked to do that also.

Currently back inside the tiny living room setting, the exposed glass door tinged with a soft sound. On top of the sofa, Tarsal turned and waved his free hand at the upright familiar figure in front of the glass door, shouting out loud. "Come inside, Pearlet!"

She opened the glass door then entered into the living room, staring at Tarsal. She didn't feel like scouting the new room with her mixed feelings of defeat and despair. She stopped and stared at her former police partner, "O! You're up too. I usually get up and then get dressed for my working job." She looked down with a sad face at the polished wooden floor.

He pointed at the end of the long dark blue tinted sofa with a smile. "Come over here and sit down, Pearlet!"

She moved ahead and sat down on the edge, pressing her dress down over her two naked kneecaps. She was not flirting but depressed about losing her police job and maybe her residential house. She had selected a yellow tinted sundress with a pair of matching sandals, instead of her dark blue business suit on her first unemployment day. She looked up with a sad face to see Tarsal. "Does a lawsuit hurt?"

He continued to sit and stared at each undecorated wall inside his house, drinking the warm cup of coffee with a loud slurp. He leaned down and placed the empty mug onto the low wooden table, sitting back with a sigh of worry also. "I guess so. I've been sitting here, admiring my house. My daddy and I built it by hand, when I was sixteen years old. I am afraid that I will never see it again. During a lawsuit, the winner gets it all. Wallis might get to own my little house, but not the land. This woody plot of land belongs to my daddy. That's some comfortable revenge from me. My daddy was smart in keeping the land from his only dumb child," laughing.

She nodded with a sad face. "I, too, own a tiny little house. I finally scraped together enough cash money to buy a house on the salary of police detective. Now, I'm going to lose my house. I feel so depressed and sad. Wallis was caught in that white lie about seeing that wild animal, which really killed his brother and family members. Would he kindly drop the lawsuit against two nice and unemployed police officers?"

"No. Wallis will not. He's a billionaire, who likes to collect billions of dollars from anyone. However, through our home owner's insurance, each house has a policy that covers personal lawsuits like this one."

She smiled with hope. "Really!"

"The pull here, if you use the home owner's policy monies to pay off your personal lawsuit, then the home owner's insurance company will drop the insurance on your residential house."

She frowned. "O! That sounds terrible."

He smiled. "However, I have a college-buddy in Birmingham, who's a young, smart lawyer without a set of clients. He's starting out and up. I called him last night. He will take my lawsuit case and fight for me without any money. He hopes to stick it to the billionaire instead while getting money and a vicious legal reputation. I'm most assuredly that I can add your name to my personal lawsuit. Two unemployed police officers are better than one."

She nodded with a stern face. "That's really nice. I accept. Can we meet your college friend lawyer today? I would feel much better about this lawsuit thing, instead of moping around the house with worry."

He nodded with a smile and whipped out his personal mobile telephone, "Yeah!"

The exposed glass door swung open. The tall, overweight body on animal veterinarian Yaffle with a silver tinted pixie haircut stood in the archway, saying with a worried brow. "I am so sorry. I am so sorry. I have made a grave mistake."

Inside the living room setting, Tarsal continued to sit on top of the sofa and smiled to his new guest, waving with his hand. "Hi, Yaffle! Come inside, Yaffle!"

"Doctor Yaffle, what are you doing here?" Pearlet stood upright from the sofa with puzzlement.

Yaffle swiftly moved through the door with a stern face and stopped, standing in the middle of the living room setting, waving both of her arms in the air. She sounded alarm with a set of heavy breaths of worry, staring at Tarsal. "Come with me now! I have made a grave mistake. Hurry! Rush!"

Tarsal continued to lounge on top of the sofa and tilted her chin, wearing a puzzled brow in silence at Yaffle. "Where's your bloodhound, Doctor Yaffle?"

Pearlet continued to stand in place and wore a face of worry. "Doctor Yaffle, what's wrong here?"

Yaffle stomped ahead then stopped, leaning down, grabbing the naked arm on Tarsal and jerked the tall slender male up from the sofa with a snort. "My dog is at home resting. Come with me now! I have made a grave mistake her. Hundreds of hundreds of people are going to die." She spun around with a worried brow and then released the naked arm on Tarsal, moving ahead, opening the door and exited the house.

On top of the living room polished wooden floor, Tarsal rubbed his sore arm then turned with a frown to see Pearlet. She continued to stand and nodded with a stern face with concern. He nodded back in silence and slowly followed the back spine on Yaffle through the open door, moving toward her old rusty orange colored full-size van. Pearlet followed behind Tarsal and then gently closed shut the front door, without locking the latch.

Yaffle stood beside the open driver's door waving both of the police detectives into her van, saying with a worried brow. "Come on and get inside the rear bench seat of my van, Tarsal. You need to come along with us, Pearlet. Get into the van! We need to rush this now! I have made a grave mistake."

Tarsal slowly moved ahead with a smile and stumbled into the rear bench seat, bouncing on top of the dirty seat fabric that held an array of colorful dog hairs, spilled colorful liquid, and dried food particles, swiftly scooting his butthole closer to the edge, staring ahead at the dirty console. "What's going on here, Yaffle?"

Yaffle tossed her hand in the direction towards the front passenger seat with a stern face. "Go and get into the front passenger seat, Pearlet! We need to leave. We must get back into the police station right now. I got to show you something really important." She slid down into the driver's seat and jerked the handle into drive, stomping on the gasoline pedal. Both her passengers flew backwards into the back seat. She spun the rear tires and raced out from the private driveway, turning onto the clear county road, flying down the smooth pavement in silence.

Pearlet frowned with annoyance. "Where are we going?"

"The place, we need to be." Yaffle sped down the roadway with worry.

Police Station building location

Rear door setting

07:11 am

A few minutes later, Yaffle pulled her orange tinted rusty van inside then parked behind the rear structure, opening the van door, sliding down onto the gray tinted pavement, waving her hand to the two new guests. "Come on now! We need to get inside the police station. I must show you something very important here," she left the driver's door open and moved ahead towards the rear wall on the police station building in silence.

Pearlet opened the front passenger door and slid down onto the smooth pavement, slamming the door, turning to scan an empty parking lot and a quiet building with a gasp. "O!" She moved ahead and scooted around the rear bumper on the van, stopping on the opposite side of the van with a puzzled brow. "I can't believe it. They shut it down."

Tarsal opened the door then slid off the worn long bench seat, standing upright on top of the gray pavement. He turned then frowned at an empty parking lot around the police building with confusion. "Who shut it down?"

She turned and winked at his face. "Today, it is that annual musical event for the city that celebrates the last day of the school session. Don't you remember, Tarsal?"

He exhaled with a nod. "Yeah, my old memory banks are cranking up. I played the trumpet and sat on my butthole for hours and hours and hours on the last day of school. I wanted to leave so bad and go and do something badder, but my parents wouldn't let me. I was so glad when I turn eighteen years old with my new man-freedom," laughing.

Yaffle stopped and stood in front of the rear door on the back of the police station building, pointing at the closed door with a worried brow. "What annual event?"

Pearlet moved ahead with a smile and stopped, standing on the opposite side of the closed rear door. The metal door was colored black like the rear wall on the police station building which helped disguised the rear entrance. The door was flush into the wall, only an employee knew about the rear entrance. Pearlet wondered how Yaffle knew the information. Pearlet turned and smiled at the nose profile on Yaffle. "This is the last day of school for all the students. Each elementary, middle, and high school student is there, including some previous graduated seniors that are in college now along with an auditorium of parents, family members, and friends. This is a grand event on the last day of high school. I remembered my last day of high school as a senior..."

Yaffle stared at the flush door with annoyance. "I don't." Pearlet frowned in silence. Yaffle jabbed her finger with a stern face at the rear door that was painted in black hue, which displayed a buzz box with a pad of numeric numbers. "Come and open the rear door, Tarsal!"

He slowly spun around to face the back spine on both Yaffle and Pearlet with annoyance. He slowly moved ahead with a gasp and then swiftly back stepped away from Yaffle, tossing both of her palms in the air near a sour frown, "Nope. No way! Naw! I'm not employed here at the police station as a police officer anymore. This and that is an illegal breaking and entering move. I could go to jail for many, many years. And this is a police station. Even a smart criminal knows not to break into a police station," he stopped and laughed at the ridiculous idea. Pearlet continued to frown at the nose profile on Yaffle in silence.

Yaffle continued to jab her finger at the black tinted rear door. "You are not understanding my command here, Tarsal. The capture and killed wild animal that killed all three murdered family units is not that captured and killed coyote or the bobcat or the wild boar. I have made a great mistake here."

Pearlet frowned with confusion at Yaffle. "Then what is it? What killed the three family units? If it is not a man or a mammal, then is it a machine?" she laughed from her silly banter.

"Who cares about that now? All the wild animals have been cleared out from the local woods at Black Creek Park. All the local citizens are happy and dancing in the streets, right now. Well, they're dancing inside the auditorium. Don't you hear the pretty, cheery music? I think heaven and the angels have fallen down to Planet Earth." Tarsal dropped both of his arms down onto his cargo pants with loud laughter. Yaffle stared at the closed black tinted door with a box of numbers, where she could not enter the proper number for access into the police station room.

Pearlet turned and frowned at the rear brick on the building, "What music?"

He rushed ahead and then stopped behind the back spine on Pearlet, reaching around, placing both hands over her eyelashes with a chuckle. "Now, your eyeballs are blind. Do you hear the music?"

She gasped in alarm and then smiled. "Yes, I do hear the music."

He released his hands with a laugh. "The grand auditorium in Gardenville has a powerful exterior speaker system that can blast streams of loud noise from there into the heavens to annoy the eardrums on Almighty God too. The musical event is there today," he turned and stared at the back spine on Yaffle. "Doctor Yaffle, you need to go through the entrance doors and ask for an appointment to see the new police chief of Felton, which is not me. It will never be me. Zimb..."

Yaffle continued to stand and pointed at the closed black tinted rear door. "Zimb is not here. No one is here. Everyone is at that stupid musical thing. Come and open the rear door, Tarsal!"

Tarsal continued to stand and stared at the back spine on Yaffle. "Where is Zimb?"

Yaffle continued to point at the door with a sour frown. "You just told us. Today, it is that annual musical event. Everyone is at the musical concert. However, we need to get into the police station right now."

Tarsal frowned. "Why is all of this important right now, Doctor Yaffle?"

She spun around and pointed at the lush woods with a stern face. "The wild animal didn't kill all the three murdered family units. Something else did. I can prove to you my death theory. Then I need your help to find the real murderer."

Tarsal turned and winked at the nose profile on Pearlet. "What do you say, non-employed police detective Pearlet?"

Pearlet looked down with a stern face at Yaffle. "If she is right and I can become a police detective again, then I say do it, to it."

He returned back with a nod to see Yaffle and moved ahead, stopping and stood in front of the solid back door, reaching up, typing out the secret number. The door cracked open, hitting his face with cold fridge air. Tarsal reached out and opened the door, holding the cold metal for the two ladies. "Hey! They didn't change the rear door secret number."

At 07:14 am, Yaffle rushed inside the building in silence and moved ahead down the side wall inside the freezer storage room setting. Pearlet moved ahead from the heated morning and entered the new room inside the police station with a smile. "They never change the rear door secret number. Who with a sane mind would ever rob a police station?"

Tarsal moved inside last with a smile. "I only offered to cooperate, because I thought they had changed the number." The rear door slowly shut making the room semi-lighted.

Yaffle stopped then stood against the side wall that contained a row of tall metal doors in black hue. She opened the first one without seeing the object, closing the door. She rushed down the wall, opening and then closing each metal door. She opened the last door and stared at the object. She entered into the walk-in freezer storage unit, wearing a pair of freezer hand gloves over her two naked hands, for her new job.

Pearlet stopped with a gasp and pointed at the open freezer door, rushing ahead with worry. "What is she doing?"

Tarsal rushed beside Pearle and reached out, grabbing the metal door, pointing at the solid wall with horizontal shelving of supplies and gear. "I'll go and get her out of the freezer unit. Be careful! Didn't let that freeze door snap and then lock on us! Use the pair of freezer gloves and hold the rear door open for our quickie escape." Tarsal entered the walk-in freezer shivering with coldness from the hot and heated day in June here in Alabama. "Doctor Yaffle!"

The freezer unit was a narrow rectangle of invisible but bodily feeling freezing temperatures without a display of hanging ice icicles. Each freezer wall displayed in white hue, without shelves only a row of dangling hooks, where a body of something could hang down for some purpose besides death. One side wall lined with cases of frozen food and beverage items, in case of a disaster. The opposite side contained steel tables that held one dead wild animal that had been captured and then killed within the Black Creek Park hunt, yesterday morning.

The gray, black, and white woods raccoon rested on one side with its legs curled underneath its belly inside a clear plastic covering. The end piece of a broken an arrow protruded from its dead heart organ. Part of its chest was open glittering in frozen red blood cells, exhibiting part of the damaged heart organ.

The second steel table contained a larger wild animal. A red fox rested on its side in glittering red fur and a long furry tail from the frozen air inside the clear plastic bag while staring into outer space with a pair oval-shaped eye sockets with black pupils. Each leg had frozen straight with a black furry hair. But, on this particular dead animal, one of the forward furry legs was missing and as the frozen red blood and white bone cartilage gleamed in the cold air.

Three steel coated naked tables displayed inside a clear plastic bag an ugly wild boar in the color of dark brown resting on its side. The wild boar possessed a bulky, massively built 200 pounds of weight with a pair of short, thin legs. The trunk was short and massive also. Behind the shoulder blades, a hump of skin and bone appeared. Each eyeball is dark and deep set and as the ears was long and broad. A set of white tinted curved canine teeth protruded out from the mouth of the adult wild boar. Each leg extended outward from the body like the wild boar was going to run off the table, except the wild animal was missing one of the forward legs.

The fourth steel coated naked flat table surface displayed a larger wild animal, a bobcat. The dead wild animal rested on its side also with the four legs extended. But the forward leg had been ripped off the joint.

"I am almost finished." Yaffle stood in front of the last steel table with the last dead animal. The yellow tinted coyote rested on its side, exposing the frozen body to the elements. She reached down and ripped out one of the front forelegs tucking the frozen item down into the front pocket on her faded and ripped blue jean coveralls outfit. Tarsal stopped with a moan of disgust and slowly back stepped from Yaffle, lifting both of his arms in the air, staring from the terrible scene, without words but soft moans of disgust.

Yaffle back stepped from the last steel table and flipped the clear plastic back over the dead animal, spinning around, swiftly moving ahead as each pocket shimmered with an animal foreleg. She exited the freezer with a stern face. Pearlet gasped in shock and shuffled further away from Yaffle, wearing a sour frown. Yaffle scooted across the room and opened the side door that led into the morgue storage room, entering into the morgue storage room of solid black steel with a worried brow.

At 07:19 am, Yaffle stopped then stood in front of the row of dead Wollen bodies, holding a front pocket of four frozen animal forearms in the pouch of her overalls, pulling out the first frozen wild animal forearm with the attached frozen paw. She waved the frozen red fox forearm in the air. "I am going to prove that this tiny creature from Almighty God did not kill any human." She leaned down and held the paw on the red fox forearm in front of the dead oldest daughter, slowly pretending to rack the animal paw sideways down an invisible line that had separated the neck muscle, the right arm, and part of rib cage bones, without harming the dead body. "This tiny paw is too small to cut through the thick bone and the tender flesh on this young child, much less, using its tiny claws to slice off the baby's head. The red fox holds a hue of orange-red colored fur on its back, sides, and head. The white fur displays underneath its neck and on its chest with a long bushy tail which is tipped in white hue. The red fox is the largest species of the genus Vulpes. The red fox is much lighter than a medium sized dog that is listed in the genus Canis. An adult fox measures 20 inches at the shoulder and 35 inches in body length with a furry tail that measures 21 inches in length. A red fox skull measures six inches in diameter. A red fox trots from four to eight miles-per-hour with a maximum running speed of 30 miles-per-hour.

"A red fox establishes a stable home environment in many diverse habitats including forests, grasslands, mountains, and deserts, which is marked by their wet urine. The red fox has earned a reputation for intelligence and cunning. Based on the fox's traits, the nest of foxes has expanded into the urban living with the humans. The red fox performs their hunting and scavenging rituals at dusk and dawn. The tiny mammal is a solitary hunter that can feed on rodents, rabbits, and birds. This is one of my arguments that this dead red fox did not kill a human. The red fox does not hunt during the day. The human eyeball does not spot a red fox during the daylight hours. But a fox can be seen sunbathing on top of a rooftop house, or a farm shed. A red fox will track and eat their prey at night. The urban fox will eat from garbage where the human food is tossed and then available for consumption. Killing a species into existence is not wise. Killing a nest of foxes has been found that a new family of foxes replaces each dead one. Thus, the red fox is considered vermin and therefore unprotected. The red fox has an elongated body with short limbs. The tail is longer than the body length and furry, reaching the ground when in a standing position. The pupils are oval. Each forepaw has five digits. The pair of hind feet possesses only four digits without a dewclaw. The red fox is very agile and capable of jumping six feet in height over a fence and can swim in fresh water. The skull is fairly a narrow shape and elongated in length containing a small brain. The canine teeth are relatively long. And this is a dead female red fox which possesses a smaller skull from the male. The skull of the red fox is different from the dog with a narrower muzzle, less crowded premolars, more slender canine teeth. So, do you agree my assessment that this captured, killed and dead red fox was not the non-human murderer of the Wollen family unit?" Tarsal nodded in silence with Pearlet.

Yaffle dropped the ripped off red fox foreleg down on the floor, pulling up the ripped off stiff and slightly wet brown tinted foreleg on the bobcat mammal that contained tiny black spots from one of her open exterior pockets, holding the mammal dead leg over the chest of the dead male. She slowly pretended to rack the frozen foreleg with the gray paw over each open wound, on each dead body while narrating to both Tarsal and Pearlet. "A bobcat is the most common wildcat in North America. The wildcat is named for its short and bobbed tail. The bobcat resembles the animals from the Lynx genus, but it is smaller.

"The coat is colored tan to grayish-brown with black streaks on the body and dark bars on the forelegs and tail like this dead limb. The spotting pattern is camouflage for the bobcat from its enemies which doesn't work for man. Each ear is black-tipped and pointy with short, black tufts of hair. A bobcat kitten is born with fur and spots unlike some of the other species.

"A bobcat possesses sharp hearing and vision and a good sense of smell. This is another reason why a bobcat would never attack a human. A human body stinks all the time to the mammal. A bobcat is an excellent climber and can swim in water, if need be. The adult bobcat is 49 inches long and stands at the shoulders at seven inches. An adult male weighs 40 pounds. The female weighs less. The bobcat or Lynx rufus appeared during the Irvingtonian stage around 1.8 million years ago."

Tarsal leaned over with a smile and a whisper into the cheekbone on Pearlet. "How does she remember all this scientific stuff?" Pearlet stared at each dead body with a slight giggle.

Yaffle continued to rack the dead limb of the bobcat over each dead body. "A bobcat is both elusive and nocturnal and is rarely spotted by a human. That pack of hunters awoke this poor mammal from its nap and then chased it around the woods, finally killing the poor thing. Almighty God, in his day, will not purse but prosecute all evil man for harming innocent animals. A bobcat is not seen but roams through a variety of habitats, including forests, semi-deserts, mountains, and bushland. A bobcat will sleep inside a hidden den or in a hollow tree trunk up from the ground. The mammal is a predator that depends on surprise to ambush and kill its food. A bobcat is a carnivore and eats a variety of mammal and reptiles for food. The bobcat is territorial and alone marking it home with its claw marks and deposits of its personal stinky urine and feces. However, the bobcat like the other native creatures of the wild is adaptable to the changing human environment. The mammal will appear in a back yard of any urban house, where the human interacts with nature. If the bobcat appears, then the family dog will climb up the tree. Diseases, accidents, hunters, automobiles, and starvation, these factors are the leading causes of death. A bobcat possesses external parasites, mostly ticks and fleas that come from rabbits and squirrels," she gasped in shock and back stepped away from the table of five dead bodies, standing against the solid black wall with Pearlet and Tarsal. "That is it! This is it!"

Tarsal frowned at each dead body with puzzlement. "What is it? What did you discover? Did the bobcat foreleg and paw kill each dead body?"

Pearlet clapped with a smile. "Thank goodness! I can leave and find a lawyer. You have truly found the murderer. I am..."

"No." Yaffle pointed at each dead body. "Every live wild bobcat possesses both ticks and fleas. If a live bobcat entered inside the Wollen house and then physically jumped on each body, attacking and killing each human person, you would see a pod of tiny black spots of fleas and ticks. Tell me here! Do you see within the dried blood, a set of tiny black spots?"

Tarsal pointed to each dead body with puzzlement. "Doesn't a tick consume blood? Won't a tick or numerous ticks be the size of a green grape, if a flock of ticks from the live and mean bobcat had fallen down onto each dead body, Doctor Yaffle?" He dropped the arm and then slapped the solid wall creating a tiny slurp on the granite.

Yaffle nodded with a smile, "Yes, you are correct, Tarsal. A tick sucks up blood. The entire bloody floor was covered in blood, its favorite meal. I don't see any tiny thick rounded ready-to-pop bubbles of numerous rounded black tinted ticks or a flat pod of tiny black spots. Each one of these dead bodies is free from both fleas and ticks. I mean, each body has been frozen in the same cold temperature inside this same storage room which will not develop a nest of flying blowflies or crawling maggots. But I do not see a single bloated tick or flea on one of the dead bodies, do you?"

Tarsal smiled. "No."

Pearlet frowned. "No."

Yaffle moved ahead then dropped the dead limb from the killed bobcat on top of the steel floor surface, stopping and finally stood back in front of the dead adult male, saying with a smile. "That proves it. This dead poor innocent bobcat did not dash into each murder house and murder a family member. We are slowly proving each wild animal innocent. I wish a wild animal had a group of fancy paid lawyers. But I guess Almighty God is the real judge, jury, and executor of justice on his planet."

Tarsal looked down with a sour frown. Yaffle was an uninvited guest, who did not have to clean up the mess on the morgue storage floor in which he would perform that nasty function later this afternoon.

Yaffle jerked out the wet, ripped off dark brown tinted foreleg from the dead wild boar then lifted up the mammal limb, performing a pretend racking motion through each wound, without harming the dead body. She said a stern face. "A wild boar is a very large animal with a pair of thin legs. The middle hooves are large and elongated which is capable of quick movements. An animal can run at 40 miles per hour and can jump as high as 59 inches. The head is very large which is one third of the animal's body length. The head is well suited for digging. The head acts like a farm plow with a set of power neck muscles which tears up the earth soil. A wild boar can dig through 4 inches of frozen ground and can upturn rocks weighing 110 pounds."

Tarsal moved ahead from the solid wall and stopped, standing beside Yaffle. "Doctor Yaffle, this animal is very big and weighs 200 pounds. The animal is almost 60 inches long. I do believe that this wild animal could harm and maybe kill a human, including the Wollen family unit..."

"No. A wild boar possesses a keen sense of smell. Some wild boars are used for drug detection in the foreign country of Germany. The feral pig possesses acute hearing, but its eyesight is terrible. The animal cannot recognize a standing human at fifteen feet from its current position. That wild boar fact alone disqualifies this mammal as the wild animal that killed an entire family unit, including the father, the mother, and all the children." Yaffle back stepped from the dead infant with a stern face and a nod. Tarsal back stepped with a stern face and then stood against the solid wall watching Yaffle in silence.

Yaffle dropped down the dead limb on the wild boar onto the steel floor, stopped, and then stood back in front of the dead adult male. "A coyote is the smaller mammal of the gray wolf and closely related eastern wolf and the red wolf also, who is called the American jackal, by the group of zoologists." She jerked out the wet, ripped off yellow tinted foreleg on the dead coyote and lifted up the limb, performing the racking motion through each wound on each dead body. She said a stern face. "The coyote lives throughout the continents of North America, Mexico, and Central America and also exists within some urban communities in the Eastern USA. An adult coyote male is 44 pounds. An adult female is 40 pounds. The fur color is light gray to red hue interspersed with black and white. The coyote can live in a pack or alone eating a variety of meat including deer, rabbits, rodents, birds, reptiles, and fish, maybe fruits and vegetables on occasion.

"A coyote attack on a human is uncommon and rarely causes serious human body injury due to the small size on the wild mammal when it is compared to the larger gray wolf. So, I seriously question if this dead coyote actually attacked and then single-handed killed fifteen different people at three different home locations. However, two confirmed fatal attacks had been documented in the US State of California and the country of Canada. And the urban coyote has lost its fear of the human, who has personally contributed to the feeding habits of the non-playful wild animals. Now, in that stupid demonstration of insanity or wackiness from the friendly human, a hungry coyote will chase after the human, confront the family dog, and stalk small children for a tasty treat of human food. Within the urban setting, a coyote is attracted to dog food and small animals in the human back yard. A coyote likes smelly garbage, pet food, and bird feeding stations. Police reports state that a coyote will attack a feline cat. The feline cat cannot withstand the injury from the coyote and then dies. In the dead of winter or the first of spring, when the food source is scarce, a coyote will eat a feline cat or cats and kittens for food. A coyote has been documented to attack smaller dogs and even a large Rottweiler breed dog for its fun or revenge or meanness. A larger breed dog like a Greyhound dog breed had been reported to the law authorities for driving off a coyote or killing one. I think we have argued enough about the urban..."

"...cowboy..." Tarsal laughed. "Sorry!"

Yaffle frowned down at the dead body on top of the table. "In contrast, the natural wild coyote feeds on sheep, goats, and cattle. A coyote bites the throat behind the jaw and below the ear when the mammal attacks its prey, such like, an adult goat. The death of the goat results in suffocation. Blood loss is secondary cause of death. Here! As I examine each body on top of this table. The death is clearly blood loss first. Some of the bodies did not exhibit a coyote bite but a ripped off limb, where blood loss caused immediate death. For young prey, such like, a lamb or calf, the coyote will attack the flank or the hindquarters. For the children, the murderer attacked the frontal body structure, such like a human. When a coyote attacks a young lamb, it will bite into the skull and the spinal region causing shock and blood loss. Then the coyote will carry off its small prey, leaving only a blood trail of evidence of a wild animal kill. Then a coyote will hide and leave most of the skeleton bones intact. Second, this wild animal has severed the skull from the body, where a coyote does not possess that wild animal killing pattern."

Pearlet continued to stand beside Tarsal in silence, wiping the sweat from her forehead and stared down the dark floor. The suicidal veterinarian was not making any sense, acting extremely crazy. Pearlet wondered how to remove Yaffle from the police station, without calling for the police officers. However, both Yaffle and Pearlet would be arrested at the same time for trespassing, destruction of evidence, breaking and entering crime, and other police charges that floated through her active mental brain cells.

Yaffle pointed at each dead body with a stern face and continued her lecture. "A coyote kill causes less damage to the underlying tissues, because the coyote wants to save the interior meat for its midnight snack. I see extensive damage on each dead body on the underlying skin tissues, muscles, and organ tissues which leads to me to conclude that this dead coyote did not kill any of those poor dead humans."

Pearlet continued to stand against the solid side wall and stared at each dead body. "What does all of this mean, Doctor Yaffle?"

Yaffle gasped in alarm and back stepped from the row of naked, dead bodies. "I know what it means," she spun around with a stern face and dashed ahead towards the closed side door. "Come with me! We have some other places to visit. I know who murdered each family unit," she reached out and slammed the door open, exiting the morgue storage room.

Tarsal gently shoved his body into Pearlet for fun with a soft chuckle, scooting around Pearlet, dashing ahead behind the back spine on Yaffle. "Last one out, closes the door! It does lock, after slamming shut," he exited the morgue storage room with a smile.

Pearlet tilted upright from the gently but annoying shove from Tarsal and exhaled with annoyance, looking up to see the row of dead bodies. "I am sorry, dead people. I don't know who murdered you," she turned to face the open door and dashed ahead, rubbing her aching forearm, wishing for this new haunting terrible nightmare to end, soonest. She reached out and touched the edge on the metal door, exiting the morgue storage room, slamming the door shut. Pearlet dashed through the freezer storage room and then exited the police station through the rear door. The rear police door closed automatically and then locked for security. She jogged ahead with a stern face and scooted around rear bumper, sliding back into the front passenger seat, closing the door.

At 07:31 am, within the interior cab setting on the ugly van, Yaffle gunned the warm engine, spinning the rear tires leaving out from the police station parking lot and turned onto the county road, speeding down the pavement.

Pearlet bounced side to side against the door and then hit the arm rest with a sour frown, staring through a semi-cracked and dirty windshield. Actually, she ducked down to see the clear part of the windshield, before vomiting from the wild van ride. Yaffle, where are you driving us, too, next?"

Yaffle raced down the county road and then turned squeaking the old rubber tires, flying down onto the interstate. The old van roared with black smoke and wobbled side to side from the great speed. She reached over and grabbed a warm beer can from the cup holder, popping off the tab, reaching up and slurped down the warm liquid. She continued to drive wildly down the interstate.

In the front passenger seat, Pearlet gasped in shock then looked down at her naked feet inside her pair of pretty yellow tinted ballerina shoes. Her shoes tumbled over empty beer cans of consumed beer. She looked up with a gasp and leaned over, staring at the speedometer reading. Yaffle was driving at 90 miles-per-hour. She sat upright with a sour frown then spun around inside the captain's van chair, reaching over and felt down for the safety belt. She gasped in alarm and looked down at the side door. There was not a safety belt mechanism to place over her precious body, in case of a deadly car accident. She looked up and sneered into the dirty windshield while talking to Tarsal. "Tarsal, do you remember what I said about changes in behavior the other day?"

Tarsal leaned over the air space between the front two captain chairs and gasped at the dangerous speed which showed on the dashboard on the van, "Yeah!"

"Well, I might need your assistance."

He turned and frowned at the nose profile on Pearlet. "What do I need to assist you with, Pearlet?"

"The cold body..."

He sat back against the bench seat and stared through the dirty windshield, saying with a sour frown without seeing Pearlet or Yaffle. "Where are we going, Yaffle? What do fifteen dead people and a family dead pet have to do with the triple murders?"

Yaffle continued to drive with great speed dashing around each slow-moving vehicle, slapping the horn with noise, consuming the warm beer, which was an interesting talent. "I am driving us to the Birmingham Mammal Shelter. The shelter takes in every type of animal including each lost dog and cat and abandoned dog and cat and injured dog and cat and roaring dog and cat. Plus, the shelter which is a great big ugly cold building with thousands and thousands of wire cages takes in other mammals like each abandon and abused and injured and dying cow, horse, goat, sheep, lamb, snake, spider, and any other warm-blood mammal."

Tarsal laughed. "A spider is a cold-blood something. It is not a mammal."

Pearlet reached down and held both hands onto the edge of the captain chair, in case of a car accident, saying with a steady tone without showing her fear and fright. "Why? What for? I would rather return home to Felton. I need to find a criminal lawyer immediately. My life is about to be sued for a false arrest and a financial disaster. Tarsal, when were you going to visit your college buddy, the lawyer?"

In the rear bench on the speeding van, Tarsal wanted to return back home to his house in Felton. He exhaled with a nod. "This afternoon, some time, he's a fresh new lawyer, right out of law school. So, he is not real busy right now. We can pop in at any time. Once, we finish our work with Yaffle." Tarsal didn't want to upset a suicidal patient, who was driving the van and drinking a can of beer that carried his life form at the moment.

Yaffle continued to drive and drink, which was against the legal law. But she had discovered something with terrible results. She had to convince the two young police detectives of her accidental discovery, before other innocent people died. She continued to fly down the interstate at great speed and then slammed on the brake pads. The old van jolted down towards a slower speed in steps as Pearlet screamed in worry. Tarsal chuckled in the rear seat at the old woman and the old van. The van swished to the side and as the front tire hit the smooth pavement on the exit ramp from the interstate. Yaffle released the empty beer can with a loud burp, shifting the steering column sideways for the sharp turn. "I am sorry about that. It is me, not the old van."

Pearlet exhaled her sour breath of worry. "That's a relief."

Yaffle gunned the gasoline pedal down the exit ramp then turned onto the new street avenue, without stopping. Pearlet screamed again and as her two palms clung onto the edge of the captain's chair in fear. Tarsal turned to face the window, seeing a line of very slow-moving traffic, without Yaffle causing a terrible car accident.

The Birmingham Mammal Shelter was not too far from the tiny town of Felton by the interstate route and located in one of many low-income communities. The land around the shelter housed the city cemetery with rows and rows of upright limestone tombstones.

Tarsal had heard terrible things about the Birmingham Mammal Shelter and now he was going to see them. He still was confused about Yaffle and her unique veterinarian's exhibition performance with four ripped-off frozen wild animal legs inside the morgue storage room at the Felton police station.

Yaffle slowed the speeding van then carefully traveled ahead avoiding all the pot holes. "The local Animal Facility resides in the center of the city morgue sitting beside a massive graveyard cemetery, where the numerous low-income families have lived and then thrived there for decades with the haunting ghosts. The metro city leaders didn't wanna use any of local taxpayers' monies to update the roadways as the big tires on each heavy construction truck broke up the nicely paved black tinted asphalt, during the rough rain storms and the harsh cold winter weather. So, the road remained poorly maintained." She turned off the rough road then drove over a rough patch of white tinted loose gravel that led towards the entrance door at the massive two-story building that was not marked but known as the Birmingham Mammal Shelter. She slammed down the squeaky brake pads, sliding over the gravel and then halted the van, killing the engine, yelling out loud. "We are here. Get out and follow me!" Yaffle immediately jumped out from the van leaving her driver's door open and her two invited passengers behind inside the van interior.

On top of the ratty long rear compartment bench rear, Tarsal exhaled with worry and then slid out the van, spinning around, dashing ahead towards the entrance doors of the Shelter. Pearlet slid out from the van again then spun around, swiftly moving ahead, staring at the shelter with puzzlement.

Birmingham Mammal Shelter

Hot temperatures with bright sunshine

07:44 am

The front door swung open. Yaffle entered first with a sour frown and swiftly moved ahead down a cold hard concrete floor, then stopped, opening the four interior door that held a set of vertical iron bars. She strolled ahead in silence and moved down a new matching hard concrete floor. Pearlet and Tarsal moved inside the new avenue together and followed her back spine, turning to see each open archway of an empty room without people but office equipment, feeling with puzzlement in silence.

Tarsal reached up and pinched his two nose holes together still smelling the strong odors of animal urine, animal feces, and chemical ammonia with puzzlement.

Yaffle continued to stroll ahead on the hard floor in silence passing the first open archway, without pointing inside the open room and then stopped again. She opened a new door in vertical rusty iron bars then entered inside the new room, silently pointing at each wire cage in silence.

Inside the last room, an individual square-shaped enclosed cage of steel wires stood every five feet that contained six alive and breathing canine dogs. Some of the dogs stood in front of the iron bars barking and then growled at new stranger Yaffle. Some of the dogs stood upright from the floor then swiftly raced ahead, standing in front of the rows of thick steel wires, wagging a tail and wiggling a tongue for a hopeful adoption from the terrible place, by stranger Yaffle.

Pearlet turned then smiled at each caged dog. "O! I wished that I could take them home and then love them all."

Yaffle continued down the cold concrete hard floor and pointed at each cage, saying with a sour frown. "This is the death room. Each canine inside this cage will die tonight."

Pearlet turned and gasped in shock at each dog inside the trapped steel cage. "No."

Yaffle continued down the cold hard concrete and pointed at each cage. "The mammal shelter kills each beast at night like a mythological vampire sucking out their life force. The mammal shelter can't kill each canine during the day. It is against the law to kill an animal during the day, if the dog can be adopted. But right after the sun sinks, the hammers and the chain saws could out..."

Pearlet stopped then turned, squatting down, reaching through the steel wire and patted the cute brown and white beagle dog. "You're acting crazy in here, Yaffle. This is a government facility."

Yaffle slowly continued down the cold hard concrete. The room did not have a viewing window to see pretty grass or bright happy sunlight. The enclosed room didn't have warm heat for the wintertime cold freezing temperatures, feeling icy cold within the middle of the summertime season also. She stopped then turned, seeing a solo dog in the wall corner on top of a cold, hard, bloody concrete floor. A new mama dog had given birth during the night and was looking each one of her whimpering five little black tinted puppies with love and sadness. Yaffle returned to face the hallway then slowly moved down the hard, cold-feeling, concrete floor, educating both Tarsal and Pearlet. "No. This is not a local or state or federal government owned facility. This mammal shelter is owned by a private money-making company that only cares about deaths of innocent animals and tons of dollar bills. When a dog is captured, the owner must pay an outrageous dog fine or the canine is killed immediately, without the money ransom, within its own cold blood. I used to work here. Well, I used to volunteer my free veterinarian's time here. I used to treat each sick animal. Then one night, I didn't leave on time as I was supposed to. I stayed beside a sick dog while nursing the canine into health. I saw. I learned. I yelled and screamed that night, beating on the enclosed wire cage. They had locked me inside one of the taller wire cages, so I could not interfere that night. I was kicked and screamed and saw. Each dog was killed by brutal form with an axe, a chain saw, a hammer, a club for their wicked fun. I cried and cried and cried here inside the locked cage door at the Birmingham Mammals Shelter that night..."

Pearlet stood upright from the floor with a sad face then swung around, crossing both of her arms, sneering at the moving back spine on Yaffle. "That's a lie. Everyone would know if that kind of insane and crazy and brutal death march happened here each night."

She continued down the floor. "The dead don't tell!"

Pearlet frowned. "What is that supposed to mean, Yaffle?"

She pointed at the side wall and nodded with a sneer. "The shelter building is surrounded by miles and miles that contain graves and graves of dead people. Don't you possess a pair of eyeballs, missy!"

Tarsal stopped then stood a few feet from Pearlet and Yaffle while exhaling with worry for his safety and Yaffle. "Then, why and what are we doing here at the Birmingham Mammal Shelter? How are you able to walk through each closed but unsecured iron door entrance, without an escort, Yaffle?"

Yaffle continued ahead with a stern face. "I have each buzz code of math numbers locked inside my head. The murderous shelter staff never changes the numbers. Why bother? By morning time, all the animals here inside each wire cage are dead meat, including that stray mama dog and her new puppies. No one comes to an empty building."

Pearlet continued to slowly move ahead and started at each caged canine. "That is not true, Yaffle. I'm a police officer. I would know if this mammal shelter is breaking the law."

Yaffle stopped then turned to face a new wire cage, pulling out a hand club from her wrinkled long-sleeve work shirt, rearing back her cupped hand then slammed the hard club down onto the iron bars. The noise echoed throughout the enclosed long cold room. Each dog inside every wire cage jumped up from the floor then hovered in the air for a split second, dropping back down onto the floor while growling in angry and mouth drooling its dripping saliva at Yaffle. She pointed at the row of jumping dogs inside some of the wired cage, saying with a sneer. "Do you see that doggie behavior?"

Pearlet watched some of the growling dogs and sneered at Yaffle. "I can see your human behavior that is affecting the dog's behavior."

Yaffle jabbed her finger at each growling dog. "Each one of these dogs have been mistreated by their mean master or mistress. Or they had been picked up on the city street, where they lived feral and wild. They didn't desire a human master or mistress. They want freedom and independence. You can't give that kind of mean dog to a nice family with babies or kids or teens. The dog would attack and then shred the human body parts into human meatballs while killing them all dead."

"Why are we here again, Yaffle?" Tarsal stood in place and turned with puzzlement, examining each wire cage. Each cage contained a variety of dog breeds consisting of various colors, hair textures, sizes, shapes and ages. He felt very sad for each dog that someone didn't want to care for or someone had mistreated. He had read that over thirteen million dogs and cats were killed inside an animal shelter, throughout the USA, every year, because a greed and selfish human or human family unit didn't want the burden of a pair of four fuzzy legs and a cold wet nose.

Down the long aisle, Yaffle spun around then scooted towards the opposite side, pointing at a new row of wired cages with set of young to mature canine. "Now, this cage holds a particular dog that possesses the same common doggie personality over here. Look over here, Tarsal! Do you see this? Each dog stands up from the floor and then moves ahead towards the iron bars and then stops, standing, a wiggling tail and a drooling tongue of care. Each dog says: take me home." She reared back with the folded fist and then slammed her hard club into the wire steel. Each dog swiftly scooted backwards from Yaffle and ran into a pile of other doggie legs, slamming the group of dogs against the cold rear concrete wall as each cowered and whimpered in fear. She jabbed her other finger at each dog, still holding the hard club. "Do you see that? Each dog had been beaten or raised in a nice home environment. Each dog is afraid of a human. Each dog wouldn't last long with any nasty human. Or each dog would be beaten and then suffering for a long time and then finally die in pain, ascending into heaven for its divine reward."

Pearlet continued to stand and stared at each poor cage dog. "What is the purpose of your vile demonstration here, Yaffle? I am still very confused."

Yaffle continued to point at the same large wire cage, where the dogs huddled in the corner while whimpering with fear. "I am showing you a feral dog versus a homey dog. Do you see the difference?"

"Yes, Yaffle, I see and understand the difference. Please, we need to leave, before we got into trouble."

She leaned down into the iron bars and sobbed with rolling hot, sad tears of worry and disappointment. "I am so sorry, doggies. You are going to die tonight. Maybe, it is better this way. You don't have to be afraid of mankind or woman-kind anymore. You will go up to heaven and met your Maker. He is a good entity. Almighty God created you for love and companionship, not pain and suffering down here on this cruel world."

Pearlet exhaled with sadness for each caged animal slowly back stepped from the row of wired cages with the penned dogs and cats. "Yaffle, please come along with me. We need to leave."

A large, overweight unnamed mature woman appeared and stood inside the open archway at the entrance iron door, pointing and yelling out loud at the back spine on the familiar licensed animal veterinarian physician. "Doctor Yaffle, is that you? Yes, it is you. You ain't not allowed to ever visit here again. Get out! Leave now of the shelter! I'm calling the police force on your butthole. They will come and get you outta of the shelter," she stared at the back spine on the two other unknown mature people, sneering at the pair, "Who are you?"

Pearlet spun around with a worried face and moved ahead, wiping the tears of sadness for each abandoned dog, without a warm home and a warm meal, shouting out loud, "I am leaving from the shelter, Doctor Yaffle."

Tarsal spun around with a stern face and moved ahead, shouting back to Yaffle, "I'm with her too."

The overweight female sneered at Tarsal, "Do you wanna adopt a dog?"

"No." He moved ahead through the same open iron entrance door following the back spine on Pearlet.

The guard at the facility returned and sneered at Yaffle. "Leave, Yaffle!"

Yaffle spun around with her lady sneer and advanced ahead towards the facility overweight female guard, storing the hand club down into her long shirt, shouting out the employee. "I'm going. I'm telling. I'm tattling. You are not safe here anymore," she exited through the same open iron door, moving ahead, turning with a sad face and rolling tears for each upcoming death kill on every single animal at the Birmingham Mammal Shelter. Her heart swelled with love for the caged animal and hate for the mean human. She exited out form the Birmingham Mammal Shelter into the hot and heated sunshine.

At 07:48 am among the heated temperatures with bright sunshine, on top of the gray tinted rough-looking gravel parking lot, Yaffle stopped then squatted down on one of her kneecaps, bowing her head down into her chest, folding both of her hands in a prayer triangle. She shouted out loud for every pair of eardrums. "Dear fatherly Almighty God, dear brotherly Brother Jesus Christ, dear awesomely Holy Spirit, each working heavenly angel, please hear my divine plea. Please send a biological virus down here to the planet and kill each one of your precious canine and feline breeds. Your nasty children down here did not deserve the love and the respect of your small blessed creations, the dog and the cat. Please! Please! Please, I am begging you, dear Heavenly Lord. Please, send down a deathly virus and infect each canine and feline breed tonight and then carry the precious soul back into heaven, where each one is loved and respected..."

"Doctor Yaffle," Pearlet halted beside the front passenger door with a gasp then spun around with worry, dashing ahead towards Yaffle and then stopped, standing over Yaffle, staring down at the gray hair roots on the older veterinarian. "Doctor Yaffle, we need to leave right now." She waved both of her arms in the air for drama feeling fear and fright of the approaching police cars and shelter guards.

Each overweight, well-fed staff member from the Birmingham Mammal Shelter slowly emerged through the open archway then stopped, standing outside on top of the entrance platform, staring down at Yaffle. Some employees were laughing. Other employees were grinning. Some of the employees were taking pictures with their personal mobile telephone camera.

Yaffle continued to kneel on top of the gravel pavement and prayed out loud for every pair of eardrums. "The beast will arise tonight with red blood on sharp fangs and pink gore on long claws. Please, come and take your precious creatures, the dog and the cat, back to their rightful home in the wonderful heavenly plane, right here and right now, before the beast arises and slews us all. Amen! Amen! Amen!" A single black and white police car slowly rolled through the open gates then parked a few feet on top of the dead grass. Both doors swung open.

Tarsal halted beside the rear door on the ugly van sounding with a moan then looked down at the gravel, without moving or thinking. This was a terrible situation. He slowly spun around with a worried brow then moved ahead, stopped, standing beside Pearlet, leaning over with a whisper into her cheekbone, "Geez! How do we explain our pair of persons here as a pair of unemployed police officers with a crazy lady?"

"You don't." Pearlet squatted down on the gravel surface then whispered into the eardrum on Yaffle. "Yaffle, please get up from the rough road pavement. You have finished your lovely prayer to Almighty God and all his heavenly servants. It was a really nice thing. You must remember that He knows, and He sees, and He does. Thank you for that sweet heavenly prayer. Please, stand upright from the gravel pavement. We need to leave this place, before we cause trouble here. Then Almighty God will bless you and your prayer."

Tarsal stood in place and turned, nodding with a smile towards the two sheriff deputies, "Howdy, sirs! I'm sorry about my friend..."

"Hey!" First sheriff deputy slowly moved ahead from the police car with a sour frown and pointed at the back spine on Yaffle. "Doctor Yaffle, you are not allowed to sit foot here at the Birmingham Mammal Shelter ever. There is court order for your arrest, if you come back for any reason."

Tarsal lifted both of his arms near his smile, "Hey, officer! She's harmless. She was showing me, where all the dogs lived. Woof. Woof. That's all. No harm. No barn. No nothing here."

On top of the gravel pavement, Pearlet reached out then touched the arm on Yaffle. Yaffle startled with fear and opened her two eyelashes staring down at the gravel. Pearlet whispered into the nose profile on Yaffle. "We are leaving from here. Yaffle, you were going to show us another animal shelter. Do you remember?"

"Yeah, yeah, I am." Yaffle slowly stood upright from the rough pavement then spun around, swiftly moving ahead with a stern face, stopping in front of her old rusty van. She opened the driver's seat then slid down into the driver's seat, cranking the engine.

Tarsal slowly moved backwards from the pair of police officers with a smile and thumbed back over his collar bone to the old rusty van. "Do you see that, officers, sirs? There is not trouble here, sirs. Doctor Yaffle doesn't want any trouble here, sirs. She is old and feeble."

The police officer pointed at the van with a sour frown. "She is both crazy and danger. Are you her crazy and dangerous friend?"

Tarsal shook his blonde curls with a smile while keeping the two police officers away from the rear of the old van. Else, the trio of troublemaker friends would be going to jail for a long, long time. He nodded with a grin. "No sir! I'm not a crazy and dangerous man. But I...I watch out for her welfare right now. That's all, sirs."

The second police officer jabbed his finger and his sneer at the old orange painted rusty van. "You need to leave with her."

Tarsal back stepped and lifted both of his palms near a smile, nodding with a chuckle. "Yes sir! Yes sir! Thank you, sir. I'm leaving with her right now. Bye, ya'll!" He spun around and raced ahead, jumping into the open archway through the rear door inside the van, rolling onto the bench seat with a chuckle.

At 07:50 am, Yaffle slowly drove her ancient van ahead over the smooth pavement leaving behind the Birmingham Mammal Shelter facility, two observing police officers, and the parked police car, quickly steering back down the patchy country road and then hit the smooth highway. She gunned the gasoline pedal and sped down the new public road, heading back towards the interstate, whipping out her personal mobile telephone. She started texting the new person while driving.

Inside the front passenger seat, Pearlet stared out the windshield with fury. Her life was almost destroyed now with the upcoming personal financial lawsuit by Wallis Wollen. She was going to lose everything that she owned, including her car, her tiny house, and her tiny bank account. And she could not find a new police officer job as the police janitor anywhere else within the State of Alabama. So, she might have to leave her home state of Alabama and move to another state for employment. Besides experiencing immediately unemployment within her life, crazy and dangerous driver Yaffle was driving and drinking inside her old van, talking nonsense too. So, Pearlet might end up arrested and then jailed for some type of illegal police procedures. Then, her entire life would be over. She would live with her biological parents for the rest of her long days and nights without the future of a husband or a child.

Pearlet wrapped both of her arms around her folded body and softly sobbed in depression and sadness of her sorry life, turning to see Yaffle then gasped with alarm. "Do not..."

"Hey, Yaffle!" Inside the rear bench seat, Tarsal sat with worry. Yaffle was texting and driving which could lead to prisoner jail time or an automobile accident. He exhaled with annoyance. "We visited the Birmingham Mammal Shelter and saw the dogs. Where are we going, too, next?"

Yaffle continued to speed over the local highway and exhaled with worry. "You saw the dogs. You saw what I did. What do you think?"

Pearlet stared at the dirty windshield with worry. "I think that you are a little crazy here, Doctor Yaffle. Now, I would like to return back home, now, please. I have to get ready for a permanent life changing event."

Yaffle sharply turned the van from the highway and then steered onto the entrance ramp of a new roadway, pressing the gasoline pedal down to the floor mat, racing on the interstate again to the next destination. Black smoke poured out from the tail pipe into the air. She frowned. "What do you think about the dogs at the Birmingham Mammal Shelter, Tarsal?"

Tarsal wiggled side to side over the dirty and lumpy rear bench seat with puzzlement, "Hmm! You slammed a hand club against each wire cage to see the reaction on each caged dog. Each mellow and scared dog scooted backwards from you and the club in fear. Each aggressive and mean dog barked and growled tearing at the steel cage while readying to kill you," laughing.

Yaffle sped down the roadway and then turned, entering back onto the interstate which was the fastest route. "Yes, you are beginning to understand, Tarsal. However, I have much more to teach you, within a very short period of time. A dog is born with love and innocence like any newborn mammal. Over time, love is shared with a dog. Then the dog becomes a life time friend to a human. Over time, hate is shared with a dog. Then the dog becomes a life time enemy to each human. Inside the Birmingham Mammal Shelter, each dog has a shared story that is not shared but seen by their individual doggie personality. Each dog is born well, not bad, like a human. However, the hate in a dog will never go away. He festers and fuels its charge, its fury, its life."

Pearlet crossed both of her arms around her folded body and stared with a sour frown through the dirty windshield. She could hardly see the roadway, which was a good thing, since Yaffle was speeding again. "What does all of this mean, Doctor Yaffle? I do not understand the meaning, the purpose and you."

"I am almost to the next exhibition. I...I want to hold off on my final announcement." Yaffle turned sharply and as each tire on the van swiftly scooted sideways from the high rate of speed, squeaking in rubber pain.

Pearlet sneered. "What final announcement? Announce it right now!" She screamed out loud and then slammed into the side passenger door, groaning in pain. Tarsal flew sideway over the dirty bench seat with a chuckle, hitting the side door, smashing into the glass. Yaffle straightened the steering wheel and drove wildly down the smooth pavement without another vehicle, speeding towards a nice building.

Tarsal sat upright and leaned into the side window, pointing with a smile at the new building. "Hey! This is the Doggie Homey Academy. I've heard good reviews about this company. The building is massive and pretty and looks like an old antebellum house. You would never think that it was a dog training facility for a dog and its owner."

The front building contained a manicured green tinted nice lawn with pods of scattered colorful flowers, low-lying green tinted plant bushes, and a small grove of tall trees, which resembled the front yard of any residential home inside any neighborhood in America. A single brown brick walkway led towards an elevated front porch. The front porch held four tall columns of grandeur and a pair of individual rocking chairs and a row of potted plants stood in-between a green tinted metal door.

Each side yard comprised a plot of manicured grass with a vanilla colored sidewalk, a set of playground swing sets, and pods of scattered flowers, and a short grove of tall trees.

Yaffle stopped the van inside a parking spot and killed the engine, opening the door with a stern face. "My friend is named Marria and her husband Howbor Hycoon."

Still sitting inside the front passenger seat, unemployed police officer Pearlet exhaled with annoyance and then opened the door, sliding out, scooting around the van. She followed the back spine on Tarsal and Yaffle in silence. She didn't understand the road trip or the point of the weird physical exhibitions from the veterinarian.

Yaffle slid out from the seat and stood on the nice smooth gray tinted pavement, back stepping, slamming the door shut. She moved ahead with a stern face in silence.

Tarsal opened the door then slid out, closing the door, dashing ahead with a smile. "This is much better." He moved beside Yaffle and surveyed the new building with a smile. "Do you know the owners?"

"I come here and treat any dog on sight."

He gasped in shock. "Is there violence to an individual dog or dogs here at the Doggie Homey Academy?"

She frowned. "No. I come here and watch all the dogs. Sometimes, a dog owner is really a drug lord in disguise, who is training their dog for more than fetching the newspaper. The owners of the facility do not want that type of reputation or troublemaker."

He frowned. "Can you spot that?"

She nodded. "Yes, a drug lord dog does not wag its tail for friendly encounters but devotedly stands beside its drug lord owner. The dog does not bark but softly growls at each other dog and every human. Most importantly, the drug lord dog does not leave the side on his drug lord master for fear of a brute beating or a death kill. It is very easy. I just do not understand why the drug lord brings his dog here to the Doggie Homey Academy."

He laughed. "The reputation of the training facility creates a happy and healthy dog that can blend into a nice neighborhood, where the drug lord can live and thrive selling his nasty pouches of nasty stuff that kills kids and kittens."

She smiled. "Ah! That's too simple and stupid. I think maybe I will ask my friend to supply the local police department with the name..."

"You can't do that."

Yaffle nodded with a smile. "I can give out the name of the dog that is owned by the drug lord," she laughed.

He laughed with a nod, "O yeah! You can do that. That would help the local police keep an eye on the dog. Yeah, that's a great idea, Yaffle. That dog might be dangerous and commit an illegal act then the police can take over from there," Tarsal smiled.

Pearlet watched the back spine on Yaffle then Tarsal, exhaling with worry, opening the door. She slid out and then closed the door, racing ahead with puzzlement, stopping and stood behind Tarsal in silence.

Front porch and interior setting

08:08 am

Hot temperatures with bright sunshine

The front door opened wide and revealed a tall and slender female, wearing a smile, a head of grayish brown hair, and a tone of dark skin, extending her hand to Yaffle, "Yaffle, welcome! I received your text message a few seconds ago. What can I do for you today? I wasn't expecting a work visit from you today. Is there anything wrong?" Yaffle stopped with Tarsal as they both stood in front of the open archway. Yaffle shook and then released the cupped hand on the new female, smiling at her friend. "Hello, Marria. No ma'am! But you can do me a favor today. I'm training two young and brilliant veterinarian interns. They wanted to see how a real woman handles a real dog with both compassion and honor."

Marria nodded with a smile and turned, extending a warm hand to Tarsal. Tarsal shook and then released the hand with a smile and a nod in silence. Marria grinned. "I can do that, Yaffle. Please follow me into the foyer room," she back stepped from the open archway and spun around, slowly strolling inside a very large room, tossing both of her arms into the air with a smile. "This is my dog company which is owned and operated by my husband and my older children. We love dogs and wanted a special place that an owner can be the alpha dog and not the servant."

Tarsal moved through the archway with Yaffle as the door archway was extremely wide for two persons or an owner and their dog.

He turned and scanned the interior room.

The room featured a narrow rectangular shape with a polished wooden floor and a cathedral ceiling. Each side wall was painted in a warm tan hue and a row of low viewing glass windows that showed the exterior manicured lawn and pods of scattered flowers.

The forward wall held a row of individual curvy wall sections which displayed an individual white tinted door. The interior floor displayed numerous colorful living room settings that grouped each living room section with a long sofa, a loveseat, two sitting chairs, and a low table.

Yaffle and Tarsal followed the back spine on Marria in silence, turning with a smile, admiring the new interior room.

Pearlet finally entered the building then gently closed shut the door, moving ahead, crossing her arms with a sour frown. She didn't want to tour the Doggie Homey Academy. She needed to return back home and begin the long process of finding a lawyer to defend her person and police reputation with the personal defamation lawsuit coming from Wallis Wollen.

Tarsal pointed at some of the furniture pieces. "To me, walking around here, this room resembles a home residence."

Marria stopped in the middle of the fake living room setting and stood beside a long purple and red tinted sofa, spinning around with a smile, thumbing back over her collar bone at the tan colored forward wall. "Yes, you are correct, young future veterinarian. My husband Howbor and I have designed a dog training facility which resembles your living room, because that is wear your dog lives, plays, and sleeps, and watches over its family members. I will elaborate more as we move into the actual training facility module. But this room is a warm and homey feeling for both an owner and the dog. So, when the dog first comes to the training facility, the dog sees some familiar objects, such like, a long sofa, a sitting chair, a wooden floor, a viewing window that shows the sky and sun and the rain. We encourage each training owner to come here and train on a rainy day as part of their personal doggie training, because a dog and an owner must get wet in the rain and burn up in the sun," she chuckled. "So, when the dog sees the familiar objects, the dog is more relaxed and feels that he is visiting inside another home environment, not a stinky room with a hard, concrete floor like our competition."

Tarsal smiled with a nod. "I feel like I'm visiting another neighbor here."

"Good! That reflects the dog's and the owner's feelings also. Now, the owner and the dog come through the front door at a schedule appointment. We do not allow two owners and two dogs coming through the front door at the same time which would cause aggressive and stress. So, when the dog and the owner come through the front door, the dog is not leashed and then can roam around the room like a dog would at its own home environment. The owner will start the training process by calling the dog back to her side with the doggie command: come. Then the owner and the dog will enter into one of the closed doors. Each owner plus their family dog has been assigned a particular door, like at their home environment, which is the special room inside their house, where the doggie training continues. Now, you understand the entrance procedure with the dog and its owner. Let us go and observe some of the current inmates at the moment," she spun around with a smile and veered towards the last closed door on the forward wall, leading the huddle of new guests with Yaffle and then stopped. She reached out and opened the door, holding the metal door for her guests and Yaffle. "This is a sound proof hallway, which is also a double glass mirror. The owner cannot see you. You can see the owner and the dog. However, sometimes, a dog can sense that I am standing there while spying on the family unit. I will go inside first and stop at the first doggie observation station. You can follow behind me. Then I will explain our new doggie homey training technique." She spun around with a smile and moved inside, entering a long hallway of polished wood and yellow colored painted walls without an art work or a viewing window. She stopped and turned, pointing at a wall-sized glass window with a grin.

Yaffle entered next with a stern face in silence and stopped, standing beside Marria, staring through the glass window like when she visited the facility and watched each dog.

Pearlet followed behind Yaffle with a stern face and stopped, standing beside the physician, turning to stare into the room with a smile.

Tarsal scooted inside and stopped, standing beside Pearlet, turning to see the interior room with a grin.

The interior room featured a square shaped space with a living room furniture pieces that formed a setting room, displaying a long sofa on the side wall, a love seat beside the sofa. A small child and a teenager occupied the furniture. The forward wall was a solid glass window that displayed a patio of yellow brick and a manicured yard with a pod of colorful flowers, the bright sunshine rays, the pale sky, and the drifting white clouds. The opposite side exhibited a gigantic television screen that played an entertainment program. The television screen was surrounded by a set of horizontal open shelves which featured numerous hard copy books and an assortment of various family pictures. The entrance wall was really the glass wall into the hidden hallway but coated in reflective tan color paint. There was a sitting chair inside the wall corner with a female, viewing the glass window. A tall and slender male stood in the middle of the room staring down at the standing Siberian Husky breed dog, saying with a firm tone. "Sit."

The teenager shouted out loud with a smile. "Sit."

The female inside the sitting chair shouted out loud with a smile. "Sit." The puppy continued to stand and wagged the tail with a drooling tongue. The younger child crawled down off the sofa and waddled towards the dog, extending both of her arms and tumbled down beside the dog. The child reached over and patted the puppy. The puppy wiggled side to side, bouncing up and down with excitement.

Inside the hallway setting, owner tall and slender Marria didn't touch the glass but stared into the room, talking with both of her arms and hands as she softly spoke. "This is one of many doggie observation stations. This particular owner is training his black and white Siberian Husky puppy to obey his commands by the standard single words: sit, come, heel, down."

Yaffle continued to observe the dog and then the family unit with a smile. "The Siberian Husky is known as the most vocal of all the dog breeds. The dog will howl, bark, sing, and talk to you."

Marria continued to smile and observe the action. "This is one of our many doggie homey training techniques. A dog has been associated with its owner, since the days of the group of hunters-gatherers' time period, when the bones of the first domestic dog had been found 47,000 years ago. A dog is a smart mammal that scientists say have the same social genes, like a human, which makes a canine really man's best friend."

Pearlet looked with a smile through the window at the living room setting. "O! I see clearly. You have provided a social setting with real colorful furniture pieces for each new training dog to both learn and act like he or she is at their real home setting with their real family. But there are other people inside the observation room with the owner and the dog." Tarsal continued to stare at the dog and the family unit with a smile in silence.

Marria shifted to the second observation station. "Doggie training is teaching a good habit with a cue or a command or a performance action inside the homey environment, which includes each member of the home. Each scheduled lesson includes each family member during the eventful training session. Else, the dog will only obey one family member, instead of the youngest one also. A dog is used to roaming free while barking at everything, growling during danger, chewing for fun, and digging into the ground. Here, we are teaching the dog to act more like its set of human masters. The key to doggie training is socializing the canine in a familiar environment. Each observation room is a living room setting, which is very similar to a home setting, where the family members gather and watch entertainment television programs and the dog lies on top of its bed pillow in silence, of course. However, we do not allow training tools such like, a spiked collar or a training whip. We help shape the doggie training with love and compassion and familiarity."

Tarsal smiled, "Of course." He didn't believe that this specific doggie technique was an effective dog training for a puppy, without the reward of a treat or a toy. Then Yaffle, Pearlet and Tarsal shuffled down to the next observation station.

Inside the second observation station, on top of a green tinted sitting chair, a young adult female with a head of long blonde hair and a tone of dark skin sat on the edge of the chair, in front of a young brown and blacked colored German Shepherd. She slowly shifted her flat hand up and down, without her voice. The young puppy continued to stand and then would reach out, licking her fingers. She would giggle at the funny sensation and continued to shift her hand up and down her hand to her young puppy.

Inside the hidden hallway, looking through the double mirror, owner Marria pointed to the glass with a grin. "This owner is a single person who is communicating to her young puppy exclusively by hand signals."

Yaffle nodded with a smile at the action inside the second observation window. "A German Shepherd is one of the known breeds to learn by a hand signal by their eyesight which makes them important in search and rescue missions saving the lives of people. This is an interesting dog training technique."

Marria shifted sideways and moved down to the third observation window. "Well, we here at the Doggie Homey Academy believe in positive reinforcements which does not include harsh or terrible punishments."

Tarsal shuffled with his party and stood in front of the third observation window, "Of course." He didn't believe that specific doggie technique was an effective dog training for a puppy, without the reward of a treat or a toy. Pearlet stood between Tarsal and Yaffle, staring through the third window.

Inside the third observation window, the interior environment matched the first two rooms. The furniture was covered in a lovely beige background with brown-tinted, tree-limbed fabric pattern. A mature couple, a black hair and pale skinned both male and female stood beside their young child as each person gently spoke out loud the word sit. The yellow tinted Labrador Retriever breed puppy stood upright and then sat down from the vocal command. Then each person leaned down and provided a treat of food for the good behavior. The young child squatted down and hugged the puppy also, smiling with love.

Inside the hidden hallway, looking through the double-fitted mirror, owner Marria smiled at the performance of both the owners and the puppy. "This is the old-fashioned operant training, where the dog's behavior is modified by a set of positive consequences. The command is to sit. The consequence of sitting is positive food treat. A positive reinforcement will always satisfy the psychological need which is usually presented with a food treat or a new toy or a touch of loving affection. That dog will be a very good member of this family unit."

Yaffle frowned at the happy event inside the third window. "A reinforcement reward increases the frequency of that particular doggie behavior whether the behavior is good or bad."

Pearlet smiled at the family unit through the window. "The family looks happy with their new puppy."

Tarsal rolled his eyeballs and then looked down at the clean and polished wooden floor, "Of course." He didn't believe in rewarding food to a dog in changing its behavior.

Marria scooted sideways and halted at the fourth glass window.

Inside the fourth observation room, the interior furniture was covered in dull red background with blue flowers on the fabric pattern. A mature male father and female mother moved around the floor. Their three young children played on the floor. The white Bull Terrier breed puppy dashed around the room and ran into the legs of the chair and the kneecaps of each child, yelping for fun, playing with its puppy energy. Then the family member donned a pair of blue tinted high knee ankle boots. The puppy stopped the running and stared at each pair of shoes, rotating its skull at each family member and then moved ahead towards the patio door from the opposite side on the entrance. The white tinted puppy stopped and stood beside the door.

Inside the hidden hallway, Pearlet stood between Yaffle and Tarsal while gasping in shock. "What happened? Or what didn't happen? Or what is happening here? Why did the puppy leave its warm bed and walk to the patio door, standing there?"

Marria smiled through the glass at the family interaction. "This is one of the doggie methods, classical conditioning. A dog learns to associate any object with an action. In this case, each family member slips on a particular type of shoe. Then the dog associates the shoe with going outside to urine and poopy. Or the dog knows that he is about to go outside to relieve its bladder and have some fun with any of the family members."

Pearlet smiled, "That...that is incredible. How long did it take the puppy to understand the mental conditioning?"

Yaffle stared through the glass window at the puppy. "A Bull Terrier breed is a sweet-tempered and highly energetic dog that is smart, clownish, and even-tempered. The dog loves to run around the yard. The classical conditioning method suited this type of breed."

Tarsal rolled his eyeballs, "Of course," he didn't believe the dog recognized the shoes but the mental thoughts of going outside to piss.

Marria scooted down and stopped at the next glass window.

The fourth observation room showed a gray haired, wrinkled, elderly woman sitting down on top of a gray tinted sofa, pressing a metal clicker in her hand, making a short pop sound that echoed throughout the room and into the dog's eardrums. She smiled. "Down, Natally!" The older brown, white, and black tinted Beagle hound breed dropped down and then rested on the floor. The old woman pressed the clicker on the second time. "Up, Natally!" The dog stood upright from the floor and yelped at her with love.

Inside the hidden hallway, Pearlet scooted backwards from the line of people and then advanced down the hallway, studying each family unit with their family pet through the glass observation window with a smile.

Owner Marria smiled at the old woman inside the fourth observation room. "That is an excellent point, Yaffle. Here, at the Doggie Homey Academy, we understand each breed of dog possesses innate or personal doggie traits. When the puppy or mature dog is evaluated, we recommend a family unit training program based on the learning patterns of the breed. We have been very successful, and each family unit has been very happy with their well-trained family dog."

Yaffle nodded at the glass window with the old woman and her dog. "Thanks for the..."

"Hey! Come over and look at this!" Pearlet stopped and stood near the end of the long hallway, waving her arm in the air but staring into the new observation room. She dropped her arm down her leg and shouted to her friends, "This is a very different and unique display. Look at this dog's behavior pattern. I have never seen this before." Marria, Yaffle, and Tarsal turned to face Pearlet and then slowly shuffled down the long, nicely polished floor while staring into each observation room. Yaffle had seen all the dog training techniques.

Tarsal noted each owner had selected a unique training program for their specific breed dog, where the entire family unit attended the daily session. "Marria, I see the entire family unit here. And I understand that you encourage the entire family unit to come and be here with the dog. However, some family units can't get off their personal work schedule or out of the school session. What do you do then?"

Marria stopped and stood beside Pearlet, smiling through the glass at the new family unit. "We offer nightly dog training classes also. We love dogs. We supervise each dog and every family unit here, sometimes, until ten o'clock at night," she turned and smiled at Tarsal. "We just love dogs."

Tarsal turned and frowned into the clean glass window, whispering for his eardrums only. "We just love the money, honey."

Yaffle stopped and turned with a gasp through the window. "What is this?"

Marria smiled through the glass window at the owner and her dog. "The owner is training his three-month-old puppy Lhasa Apso to stop barking at each moving item."

Yaffle frowned at the dog. "That is impossible. The Lhasa Apso breed possesses a working obedient intelligence and is alert with a keen sense of hearing. The ancient dog is one of the oldest domesticated breeds in the world. Their DNA genes are dated as far as back 800 BC, where the nobles of Tibet and the Buddhist monks employed the tiny dog as a sentinel guard for any stranger. Here in the modern times, the little dog still serves the same purpose. You can't alter DNA."

Marria looked with a smile through the glass window. "I will strongly disagree, Yaffle. This new doggie homey technique has proven to be very successful with each independent and mellow canine."

Inside the glass observation station, a short and overweight pale skin mature adult female curled inside a peach tinted sitting chair, looking through a glossy colored magazine. The room exhibited a familiar living room setting of a square shape design with a long sofa, a loveseat, and two sitting chairs in peach hue on top of a polished wooden floor. On side wall of solid wood displayed a gigantic television screen that showed a Hollywood movie with low volume which was surrounded by built-in shelves of books and family pictures. The tiny brown colored Lhasa Apso with the two white front paws was curled on top of a circular pad on the floor, sleeping.

Outside the glass window, a set of small bicycles rolled side to side in front of this particular doggie observation glass which contained the family pre-teens, who loudly talked and disturbed the quietness inside the observation room. The dog lifted its furry skull and stared at the movement, gliding off the pillow, racing ahead towards the window, bouncing up and down in front of the glass on a set four tiny legs, loudly yelping at each rotating tire on each bicycle.

"No barking!" The short and overweight woman slowly shuffled off her chair and moved ahead, saying with a stern face and a firm tone, stopping a few feet from the window and the dog beside the side wall in front of the book shelf. "No barking!" She reached over and pressed the button on the musical player. A set of musical notes played out loud coming from composer Mozart's Allegro through the air waves. She depressed the button and as the musical song started playing. "No barking!" The dog continued to yelp at the teens outside the window. She pressed the button. The song played again. The dog stopped yelping and then swung around, tilting a head at her mistress. The woman didn't say anything but depressed the button. The music stopped playing. The dog spun around and stared at the teens on the two bicycles, slowly swirling around, walking back toward its pillow. The dog climbed back on top of the soft fabric and then curled down into the soft pillow, leaning a skull down onto its legs, closing its two eyelids.

Inside the hidden hallway, Yaffle gasped out loud in shock, "I...I have never seen that type of modified dog behavior technique."

Marria turned and lifted her finger into her parted lips that formed a smile, staring at the nose profile on Yaffle. "Shush! This is our newest secret doggie homey training technique," she dropped her hand with a laugh. "This is actually known as Musical Doggie Dance. It is a dog sport that allows for creative behavior training between the owners and the dog. The dog learns a mixture of obedient training techniques, tricks, and dance moves. The Musical Doggie Dance sport had been created in an array of foreign countries before coming here to America. The common element for the dog is the music and the doggie commands. I highly recommend this new doggie training technique for every family unit. The owner and the dog are tethered together through an individual doggie leash, where the dog learns to heel, shake a leg, sending the canine away, walking diagonal, backwards, and forwards with the owner or away from the owner based on a musical sequence pattern of notes. Depending upon the selected musical song, within the Musical Doggie Dance, the sport teaches the dog to jump, spin in the air, bowing down to the owner, rolling over the floor, and dancing for fun. Some of the more advanced moves within any Musical Doggie Dance sport, a dog is taught to leap into the air and then climb on top of the owner's back spine and cuddle the owner's neck. Or the dog will rest inside the arms of the owner for love."

Pearlet frowned down through the glass window at the new puppy. "All of that sounds impossible."

Marria turned back to see the entrance door and pointed back down the empty hallway with a smile. "No. It is all possible, because we love them all. We swiftly scooted down here at the end and missed most of the dogs that are being trained with our behavioral Musical Doggie Dance. We can slide back down and view each observation window."

"If she says that word, doggie, one more time?" Tarsal leaned over with a grin into the cheekbone on Pearlet.

"Shush!" Pearlet said a whisper and grinned back into the cheekbone on Tarsal while staring into the observation room with intrigue.

Marria smiled. "The Musical Doggie Dance training technique is very popular. The dance sport uses more of the traditional musical pieces, like the classical Nutcracker Suite and Ludwig van Beethoven 5th Symphony..."

"Thanks for accommodating us and allowing us to use up your valuable time, Marria!" Yaffle quickly back stepped from the last glass window with a stern face into the empty hallway and then turned, swiftly moving ahead with a stern face, tossing her hand over her pixie haircut. "Thanks for the dog tour, Marria. My two veterinarian interns had learned a lot today. I will see you and the dogs next week."

Pearlet and Tarsal, both back stepped from the glass window and then turned, swiftly moving down the same empty hallway, following the back spine on Yaffle and then tossed her hand to Marria, in silence.

Marria continued to stand at the last observation window and turned with a smile, tossing her hand in the air at the back spine on each guest. "Bye, Yaffle! I'll see you next week, same place, same time," she returned back and watched the sleeping puppy with a grin.

Yaffle knew the exit door, leaving the academy, swiftly moving ahead toward her ancient orange tinted van in silence. She stopped and opened the door, sliding inside, cranking the engine.

Van interior setting

Hot temperatures with bright sunlight

08:31 am

Pearlet and Tarsal quickly entered back into their assigned van chair, sitting in silence, watching Yaffle.

Yaffle swiftly left the Doggie Homey Academy driveway and rapidly drove back onto the interstate, speeding down the roadway in silence.

Tarsal wiggled side to side in the rear bench while avoiding the patches of itchy dog hair, laughing with a grin. "That was nice. Where are we going next, Doctor Yaffle?"

Pearlet fidgeted inside the front passenger seat and turned with a worried brow, scanning the non-busy roadway. "You should drive a little slower through the busy traffic, Doctor Yaffle. You are very lucky that you haven't been stopped by a highway patrol officer. You could receive a speeding ticket for speeding with me, inside the car."

Yaffle continued to speed and frowned through the dirty windshield. "The police department doesn't care."

Pearlet gasped. "That is not a nice statement to say about the police department, Doctor Yaffle."

"You don't understand my intent. I salute and applaud the police departments throughout the world that have to chase after the bad guy. Here, I don't like that the police officers have to patrol around the bad neighbors."

Pearlet gasped. "That...that's a nasty remark."

"You are not understanding my remark, missy. The bad guys like living in the bad neighbors. However, our police force has to patrol and defend and sometimes die to capture the bad guy. I don't believe in that. Some of the bad neighbors enjoy hiding the bad guy, so the bad guy can continue to maim and kill all of these innocent and nice people. The same tactics exist and happen throughout the world. In numerous foreign countries, the bad guy rapes and murders and kills all the nice people. But the nice people run away screaming and yelling for help like crying for the wolf. Well, the wolf comes and wears sheep's clothing. That statement comes directly from the Bible. Almighty God is not dumb. He tells each one of us to beware and be mindful. That does not mean that each good police officer has to be our eyeballs, our eardrums, and our protector."

"Amen!" Tarsal nodded in the rear seat.

Yaffle slammed the brake pads and then sharply turned off the interstate, driving down a new gray tinted roadway towards a new compound. The compound was surrounded by high fencing that contained individual grassy parks or red tinted flat dirt plains. In the middle of the compound, a row of tan colored brick two-story structures stood alone.

Yaffle slowed the speed and turned, driving over the vanilla colored smooth concrete, parking in an empty spot and killed the engine. "This is the Birmingham Military Dog Training Center. This is the place where a mature, not puppy, military dog receives continuous military training, before the dog and his handler are deployed out into the war field. The bigger two military dog training centers located in the two U.S. States of California and Texas. I want you to stay quiet and pay attention in here. But the military officer is going to ask you to do that first," laughing.

Pearlet continued to sit in the front passenger seat with a huff and scanned the new landscape. "What is the meaning of your visit to a third dog training facility?"

Yaffle pointed at the open field inside the dog compound. "This place is important. This is why I am asking for you to stay quiet and pay attention, Pearlet. Let us get out and greet my friend," she reached over and opened the door, sliding down, standing on top of the nice vanilla tinted hard surface. She moved ahead with a stern face. Pearlet and Tarsal exited out from the van and then quickly followed the back spine on Yaffle.

In the center of the four buildings underneath a short veranda, the white tinted door read: Office.

Yaffle swiftly moved ahead and reached out, slapping the closed door and entered the new setting.

The reception room was small and square-shaped made of smooth gray colored cider blocks on each wall. Each wall was decorated with rows of mounted glass frames that contained an individual dog. The forward wall held a long metal desk in black hue with a black tinted computer desktop, a black tinted upright business telephone, a white tinted rolling chair, and an upright male. In each wall corner, a square shaped archway displayed a different colored hallway, without a metal door.

The male displayed a short, stocky body frame with a head of brown cropped hair, a pair of brown eyes, and a tone of dark skin, wearing a smile and a pair of green, tan, black military fatigues, scooting around his office desk. He extended his hand to Yaffle. "Doctor Yaffle, welcome, this hot morn! I received your text message and I am ready to assist," he released her hand and shook the hand on Pearlet and Tarsal, slapping his chest with a grin. "Welcome, young veterinarians-in-training. I am Captain Brah Vapierre. But everyone calls me, Bird Dog."

Yaffle nodded. "Bird Dog, I am sorry for the short notice."

He waved both of his palms near his smile. "No problem! But we're going to be inspected at eleven hundred, so we need to wrap your private tour here quickly. Please follow me this way for dressing!" He spun around with a smile and veered towards the side wall, entering through a square shaped archway. "This is the dressing room as opposed to the un-dressing room."

The hallway was lined in pale blue tiles without a viewing window but well-lighted on the foot pathway, ending twenty feet with a second open archway trimmed in white paint.

He tossed his hand into the air and continued to move ahead. "This is a hallway for the Dressing Room in a set of sissy pale blue tiles. The military usually purchases the first piece of property both cheaply and ugly. This building used to be a nursery school for tiny young girls and boys. Then the nursery school kids grew too fast and big, moving to another piece of property. So, the government snatched up the building, without remodeling. The bathroom portion met our physical needs while training our dogs." He strolled through the open archway and moved ahead towards the forward wall.

The room continued the pale blue tiles that covered each wall and floor. Each wall held an individual vertical rack of uniforms in glittering gold. The side wall held an exit door in pale blue hue which was surrounded by horizontal shelves. Each shelf contained an individual golden tinted helmet and a pair of matching gloves on a stand.

He stopped in front of the rack of uniforms that fit his short height, reaching out, grabbing the first jumpsuit and then spun around with a smile. "Nailed on each wall, there is a rack of one-piece jumpsuits, which is not made of gold. The scientists had created some type of glittering fake color hue which is coated onto the jumpsuit, making it twinkle like a star. I will explain in a moment. Go and find a rack that fits your body height even with your throat. The jumpsuit should be loose but not tight. And the suit does not need to drag the ground either. Get dressed." He ordered with a smile and slipped one leg at a time into his chosen jumpsuit very quickly and then moved ahead towards the forward wall.

Yaffle, Pearlet, and Tarsal slowly twisted around the small room of pale blue tiles, searching for the proper rack of jumpsuits, shuffling ahead and stopped, quickly dressing in the proper suit. Each one stood in place and turned with a smile to see Bird Dog.

On the forward wall next to the closed door, Bird Dog reached out and grabbed a helmet, nodding with a smile. "This completes our new outer space man and woman outfit. Grab a helmet and a pair of gloves. But you must first completely dress before exiting into the heated sunlight."

Yaffle, Pearlet, and Tarsal, they slowly moved ahead then stopped, grabbing and dressed in full gear while twinkling in solid golden tint.

Inside each helmet, the tiny transmitter echoed the words from Bird Dog and as his body wiggled side to side with amusement, "All right! We are twinkling coolness in here. Let's go outside, where we will sweat. I promise," he spun around and opened the door, holding the door for his guest. "Move towards the first golden tinted terrain vehicle. Yeah, we have to match, too," he laughed.

Yaffle exited the room first as she had visited the military dog training center before. She stopped then slid down into the rear seat on the four-seater terrain vehicle first.

Pearlet moved ahead next and then slid down into the front passenger seat with a smile. She felt better visiting this dog training center but was still confused with the new series of road trips from Yaffle.

Tarsal slowly moved ahead with a smile and scooted down on the opposite seat next to Yaffle, wiggling side to side inside the terrain vehicle with excitement.

Bird Dog rushed ahead with a smile and scooted into the driver's seat, cranking the solar engine. He said through the microphone inside his golden tinted helmet. "The material on the terrain vehicle is made with something that absorbs the sunlight rays, so the engine is solar-powered. But the kart looks like a fun terrain vehicle with a rooftop, no doors, no windows, and four seats. However, it ain't fun. It travels very, very slow." He pressed the gasoline pedal. The terrain vehicle slowly performed a putt-putt down a nicely bricked sidewalk that was meant for walking by a person or traveling by a terrain vehicle. Bird Dog continued to slowly putt-putt the vehicle down the same walkway, touching his suit, "Each jumpsuit is made of special material that reflects off each sunlight ray. Back here behind my reception building, the grass is short and trim. Our employees and guests come out here and eat their lunches on a nice day with their dog. As we move further west, the manicured lawn turns into fake landscapes of war or peace or chaos or conflict. We won't be touring that far back on the base, but I do invite ya'll to come back here on a non-inspecting day. We can have some fun, sitting on a ground, picnicking in the war zone, watching each war dog react to the real gun fire, fake fighting soldiers, and fake war equipment," laughing.

The landscape changed from flat, smooth grass setting into one large caged arena that stood thirty-feet high into the sky. Inside the caged arena, an object stood twenty feet apart on top of varied terrain, such like, grass, water, dirt, sand, and ashes.

The terrain vehicle slowly performed a putt-putt over the bricked walkway. Bird Dog pointed into a new arena. "That is a first-level obstacle course for the dog. There are three more obstacle courses which are very advanced and fun to watch. Here, the handler runs beside the dog as the dog does the workout on each piece of equipment, running up the steps, running down the steps, jumping over the bush, crawling underneath the bush. The handler is observing each behavior, body, attitude, and other good and bad attributes on his dog. The US military wants each dog healthy and happy before the canine is shipped off for war duty."

"We are not a war, sir," Pearlet gasped out loud and as her words echoed into each helmet.

Bird Dog did not nod in the heavy helmet, saying with a grin into his microphone. "That's correct, young miss! But the USA participates in some active live battle pockets where the war dog goes for its military duty. Now, look down at your suit. It twinkles in the sunlight. Look down at the terrain vehicle. It also twinkles in the sunlight. The US scientists have created some type of special coating over the suit and vehicle which absorbs the sunlight, thus we are invisible to both working handler and the working dog. We are actually testing out this product. But look at each dog. The dog is ignoring us as we slowly putt-putt outside their training fence. A dog possesses a pair of super power eyeballs. But when I drive around in my golden tinted suit inside my golden tinted vehicle, the dog doesn't see me. This is some new technology from Huntsville. Have you ever visited north of here in Huntsville, Alabama? It is the one number creator of war defense-and-defend soldier body and military equipment in the world. That's why we are not a war, young miss."

The terrain vehicle slowly performed a putt-putt down the same walkway, leaving behind the chain-linked fence, moving through the manicured grass. The next chain-linked arena stood thirty feet in height. Inside the grassy setting, a line of different dog breeds posed in front of their individual assigned dog handler, in silence. The handler stood upright in silence and waved an individual naked hand at their assigned canine dog.

Inside the rear bench seat, Tarsal turned to view the commotion and then laughed into the microphone, "Bye, bye, doggie!"

Bird Dog continued to drive and smiled at the funny remark. "The handler has learned a set of silent hand signals and is teaching the sequence pattern to his war dog. A silent hand signal is vital during wartime, when the enemy is too close for a loud death kill. I wish I could go into more detail with you, but we are driving directly to the next exhibition, Doctor Yaffle."

Yaffle continued to sit in the rear bench seat and said through her microphone. "Thank you."

The terrain vehicle slowly veered off the main walkway and parked in front of a second tan colored brick short, squat building. He shut off the solar engine and then slid out, standing on top of the vanilla tinted pavement. "This is our demonstration testing room. It is an enclosed room that we cannot enter, where each individual war dog is being tested for a certain assignment." He spun around and moved ahead, slapping his hand onto the closed metal door, opening the door. He scooted to the side wall and held the door open for his guests.

The hallway was painted in dull gray on one wall and each ceiling plank with a wooden polished floor. Across the wall, a solid shiny glass window displayed a new interior setting.

Bird Dog released the door. The door automatically closed shut. He moved ahead, stopped, then stood in front of the row of glass windows.

Each wall was painted in yellow hue with several pieces of ugly art work. The floor was colored black and gray granite. On the forward wall, a curvy purple tinted granite bar counter touched on each side wall enclosing a small arena. Each bar stool was covered in alternating patterns of black and then white. Behind the curvy bar counter, a professional drawing featured a fake row of different shaped clear bottles that contained different colors, which represented different types of alcohol.

Bird Dog reached up and pulled off the helmet, tucking underneath his armpit. Each guest copied his movement. He pointed into the fake room. "This interior room is setup like a nightclub. Inside the tester demonstration, there is a curvy bar where a bartender would stands upright holding a bottle. There are two customers. One of the customers holds a gun on his body. The other customer is sitting there pretending to be depressed and drinking. As the bad customer draws his hand gun, the dog enters into the nightclub setting. The military dog has been given the assignment of finding the hidden gun on the customer. Then the handler and the room of testers watch the dog's reactions. However, today, Doctor Yaffle has only required a single demonstration. So, inside the nightclub setting, there is only one customer without a hand gun. The customer sits in the middle of the curvy bar counter staring into outer space," laughing.

Tarsal smiled through the glass window at the sitting doll. "Do you use a set of real dummies?"

"No, they'd get hurt," Bird Dog laughed. "The dummy is made of soft sand, stiff hay, and real clothes. Are we ready?"

"Yes, sir! Please send in the dog!" Yaffle viewed a stern face into the quiet room setting.

The entrance door slammed open with a loud boom and exposed the bright sunlight from outside. A sable-colored German Shepherd breed dog raced across the floor and then leaped into the air, growling with high volume, exposing all white tinted fangs. The dog landed on top of the flat counters, sliding into the folded dummy body, grabbing the neck muscle and then closed its muzzle. The dog ripped off the collar bone from the dummy body, tearing the pretend down through the armpit, disconnecting part of the rib cage. The dog still held the body part and lifted its skull, violently shaking the set of attached limbs in the air. The red tinted sand coming out from the broken fake dummy body inside the dog's closed mouth sprayed in different directions, clinging into two solid walls of yellow, the white tinted floor, some of the black and white high stools, and parts of the ceiling planks.

Inside the hallway, Tarsal back stepped in alarm and continued to study the red painted room. "Wow!" Yaffle stood in silence and nodded at the fake graphic scene.

Inside the nightclub setting, the handler moved ahead and then halted a few feet from the open archway, yelling out loud. "Halt!" The dog dropped down the pretend body part, coughing out loud, expelling the particles of dust and then spun around. He tilted his doggie skull with a doggie smile and then leaped off the bar counter racing back towards his handler. The handler spun around and left the room with the dog, providing a reward for a good job. The nightclub door automatically closed shut.

Inside the hallway, Pearlet surveyed the red sand destruction inside the fake room with a gasp of alarm. "Is that real pig's blood?"

Bird Dog smiled. "No. We don't use real blood of any man or mammal anymore. It is some type of synthesized batch of red tinted sand that does not harm the dog or the floor. We just sweep the bloody stuff off the floor and walls and ceiling tiles and then re-bag the stuff back into the next dummy for the next demonstration," laughing.

Tarsal gasped in alarm. "What verbal command did you tell that dog?"

Bird Dog stared into the messy room. "Kill!"

"O dear!" Pearlet gasped in horror.

Bird Dog turned and smiled at Yaffle. "Well, did you enjoy the performance? Did your two interns learn something important about the aggressive behavior of a truly trained fighting dog?"

Yaffle back stepped from the window and turned to face the closed door, moving ahead with a nod and a stern face to the military officer. "Yes, sir, they did. We need to go, interns. We much work to finish before suppertime. Thank you for your supplying us with your valuable time, Bird Dog," she slipped back on the helmet and then exited the hallway, scooting back into the terrain vehicle.

Bird Dog back stepped from the glass window with a smile and reached out, grabbing the open door, holding it for the two interns. He turned and smiled at Pearlet and Tarsal. "Thank you for coming! When you get another day off from your academic studies, please come back. We can tour some of the more exciting exhibitions with numerous war dog training."

Tarsal back stepped with a sigh and turned to face the open door with a smile. "I would like that. Thanks for the incredible demo, Bird Dog," he slipped back on the helmet and then exited from the hallway, scooting into the same seat inside the terrain vehicle.

Pearlet slowly back stepped from the glass window and turned to face the open doorway also. "Thank you, sir!" She slipped back on the helmet and exited the hallway, moving back into the transport and sat quietly with her mental thoughts.

Bird Dog moved ahead with a smile and slipped back on his helmet, scooting back into the transports. He started the solar engine and then slowly performed a putt-putt back to the reception building while pointing toward more dog exhibitions.

He stopped the terrain vehicle on the back porch of the first building and then slid out, standing on top of the vanilla pavement. "We head into the pink tinted door. There, you remove your suit, helmet, and gloves, lifting them on top of any work bench. These pieces of special equipment have to be specially cleaned. Once you're done, you walk down the tiles of pink," laughing.

Yaffle moved ahead with a stern face and tossed an arm. "Thank you, Bird Dog! I can escort my people out from the building. I know that you're very busy right now."

"Thanks, Doctor Yaffle! Come back anytime," Bird Dog continued to stand at the terrain vehicle.

Yaffle, Pearlet, and Tarsal entered the new room that was tiled in pink hue, quickly removing the gear, leaving through the hallway and exited the reception building in silence.

At 09:21 am, they slowly moved ahead towards the parked vehicle and then entered back into the van still pondering the new information in silence.

Yaffle cranked the engine and produced a new plume of black smoke from the shaky muffler pipe, slowly driving her ancient van ahead over the smooth pavement leaving behind the Birmingham Military Dog Training Center and then hit the smooth highway. She gunned the gasoline pedal and sped down the new public road, heading back towards the interstate.

Inside the front passenger seat, Pearlet stared out the semi-cracked and dirty windshield with worry. "This has been a sad and nice and rough tour of dogs and their doggie palaces. Where are we going next, Doctor Yaffle? What's the point of this sightseeing trip?"

Yaffle continued to speed over the local highway and exhaled with worry. "The sightseeing trip is finished. We are driving back to the police station. You saw all the dogs. You tell me. What is your input here?"

Inside the rear bench seat, Tarsal sat with worry. "Well, we visited the Birmingham Mammal Shelter and saw the caged dogs. The docile dog was afraid. The aggressive dog was fearless. We visited the Doggie Homey Academy. Each dog was loved and fed by a nice loving family. So, the dog was fun and confident and nice to its family unit. Then, we visited last a military dog training station, where the war dog killed on command. Do you see it, Pearlet?"

Pearlet turned and stared through the side glass window with a sour frown. "Did I see what?"

Tarsal nodded with worry. "I saw it. Did you see it, Yaffle?"

"Yes, I saw it." Yaffle continued to speed down the interstate and exhaled with worry.

Tarsal nodded with a stern face from the back seat. "When the war dog was ordered to kill that dummy male there at the fake bar counter, the dog attacked without mercy, ripping off a set of the fake body parts. Then the sticky red tinted sand blasted throughout the room, hitting the walls, the floor, and parts of the ceiling tiles like glue. That fake blood pattern sorta resembled some of the walls inside the Wollen murder house."

"No!" Pearlet turned and gasped at Tarsal.

"Yes." Yaffle continued to speed down the interstate with worry. "This is the purpose of my trip. Tell her, Tarsal!"

He shook his skull and exhaled with worry. "Yaffle believes that the dead Giant Schnauzer was really a war dog that was given or purchased by Wallis Wollen and then used to kill his biological family members."

Pearlet gasped in horror and reached up, holding her throat. "That's insanely crazy. No one would do that to their loving family members. No one could do that to their loving family members. Both of you are insane here."

Yaffle continued to speed down the interstate with worry. "A Giant Schnauzer is also a very common war dog that is used by the US military. After the military service, each war dog is adopted by any American family."

Tarsal nodded with a smile. "That sounds insanely logical to me."

Pearlet gagged and then coughed. "Insanely illogical to me!"

He sat in the rear bench seat but leaned forward, hanging between the chairs. "I believe you, now, Yaffle. But I have tons and tons of unanswered questions. If that dead dog was really a trained killer war dog, then that trained killer war dog had to have been conditioned to kill by their loving family unit on command."

Pearlet gasped in shock. "That sounds crazy!"

He exhaled. "What do we do to prove your working insanely logical theory, Yaffle?"

Yaffle sharply turned the van off the interstate and ran the traffic light with red hue, pressing the gasoline pedal down to the floor mat, racing towards the police station. Black smoke poured out from the tail pipe into the air.

In the rear seat, Tarsal exhaled with worry. "Wow! I, now, understand the point of the three different visits."

Yaffle turned into an empty parking lot and stopped in the rear of the building of the Felton Police station again

Police Station location

Rear building entrance setting

09:47 am

Yaffle killed the engine and reached down, cracking open her door with a worried brow. "We need to rush back into the police station. I know who murdered the three family units," she slid down on top of the hard pavement without closing the door, swiftly moving ahead towards the rear door on the police station.

Both Pearlet and Tarsal quickly exited from the old rusty orange colored van while leaving the door open also.

Tarsal swiftly jogged ahead and stopped, typing in the secret code into the buzz box. The rear door cracked open. He entered first, moved ahead towards the side door on the right side of the wall, and stopped, opening the door that led into the morgue storage unit. He held the door for Pearlet and Yaffle with puzzlement.

Pearlet entered the freezer room within the hallway next and then moved into the morgue storage room first, standing by the table of dead Wollen family members wrapping both of her arms around a shivering body with puzzlement.

Yaffle entered last from the outdoors and moved down the opposite side wall, grabbing a pair of freezer gloves from the shelf, entering back into the freezer unit with the dead wild animals. She quickly exited out from the unit and slowly glided the steel naked table with the dead dog into the morgue storage room and stopped in the middle room with the most floor space. She reached down and then un-wrapped the clear plastic bag, "Write down this new information."

Tarsal entered into the morgue storage room and pulled out his personal mobile telephone, typing on the icon, stopping a few feet from the back spine on Yaffle.

Pearlet watched the action with puzzlement. "What are you doing, Doctor Yaffle?"

Yaffle slowly searched through the exterior dog parts on the dead dog and then smiled, reading out loud the new information. "I knew it was here. I have found it. 18080691P. Write that information down for me!"

Tarsal typed the new information into his personal mobile telephone with a smile as a personal text message and then sent a text message back to his person inside his mobile telephone for storing the new information. "I got it on my cell phone, Doctor Yaffle."

Pearlet continued to stand beside the row of dead people and stared at Yaffle with puzzlement. "What are you doing, Doctor Yaffle?"

Yaffle dropped both of her hands and patted down her worn blue jean overalls with a stern face. "I need for you to bring me that bloody crowbar that Wallis Wollen had pitched to this dead dog."

Pearlet continued to stand beside the row of dead people and stared at Yaffle with puzzlement. "What are you doing, Doctor Yaffle?"

Tarsal spun around with a smile and moved ahead, stopping on the solid side of wall that contained thousands of small steel coated cabinets. He reached over and pressed the panel. The door slid open and revealed a plastic bag that contained a bloody crowbar. He reached inside and grabbed the item, spinning around, moving ahead to Yaffle and stopped. He lifted the item towards her face.

She accepted the crowbar and wiggled open the plastic bag, carefully drawing the item out, placing the crowbar on a clear spot on top of the steel naked table that held the dead dog. Yaffle reached inside one of her deeper exterior body pockets and pulled out a small plastic bottle with a medicine glass eye dropper and a red nipple. "I am testing each blood type with my personal blood tester. Human Type-A blood exhibits a cell surface molecule is shaped in rectangular geometric shape within the blood. Human Type-B blood presents a cone shaped. Human Type-AB blood shows with both the shapes of a cone and a rectangle. Human Type-O blood displays a smooth layer with an individual geometric shape. Dog blood is only expressed in antigens. The shape of a dog antigen is a smooth cylinder."

Pearlet frowned. "Do you possess a blood type kit?"

"Yes."

Pearlet frowned. "How is that possible? You're not a practicing veterinarian anymore, only a consulting veterinarian of animals."

Yaffle laughed. "You can purchase a blood type kit at the local department store for nine dollars and some odd cents. Then you can stick each finger and smear the blood over the tiny glass plate and test for HIV virus, and anything else, now days."

Pearlet frowned. "O!" Yaffle opened the dropping bottle and lifted the eye dropper, staring at the dried blood on the crowbar.

Tarsal continued to stand in front of the steel table with the dead dog, staring down at the hand on Yaffle, softly clapping with a smile. "This is great. Are you testing each human blood type on the crowbar also?"

Pearlet moved ahead, stopped, and then stood beside Tarsal while staring down at the metal crowbar with a sour frown. "The Birmingham CSI unit has done that already and found that the crowbar contained only dog blood. It was new police chief Zimb that tested the blood on the crowbar and assumed the blood to be dog blood."

Yaffle frowned. "No."

Tarsal gasped in shock, "Why not? You're supposed to be testing for human blood. This is our only chance to pen the crime on Wallis Wollen. His private jet plane leaves this afternoon and then he is gone foreverly. The police can never catch and pen him with murder."

Yaffle carefully released a set of tiny yellow tinted drops over the thick patch of dried blood that coated the center of the crowbar, saying with a stern face. "I am adding the liquid mineral of Vitamin K which automatically starts the clotting on each cell. I wanna see the shape of each blood cell. Thus, this chemical procedure will slowly separate any human blood proteins away from any dog antigens that is covered over the metal. Vitamin K liquid will not corrode the metal either. Then we can actually see if the crowbar is coated with one hundred percent dog antigens like the sexy lawyer told or a mixture of both human and canine like Tarsal claims." She drowned the dried blood with the liquid and then pulled back her cupped hand from the crowbar, replacing the dropper back into the bottle, watching the reaction.

The dried blood turned wet, sliding off the slick metal, hitting the naked steel plate. The wet blood on top of the metal surface started to bubble and shift with motion like magic.

Tarsal stared with a gasp at the wet blood on top of the metal. "The dried blood is stirring and twisting like it was alive, like it lives on a dog."

Yaffle smiled down at the metal surface. "This is a chemical reaction, not a biological process. Blood is not alive. The blood is shifting away and wiggling toward its cousins," she laughed. "I mean to say here. Each blood cell is cuddling up with each other it is related or alike or something common. Do you see that?"

Tarsal gasped in alarm. "The blood is really separating and forming into a short stack of red colored clumps."

Yaffle smiled "I can tell you this, before it completes the chemical reaction process. There is dog and human blood clumps here on top of the crowbar metal and down on the glass plate."

Pearlet slightly danced with excitement, staring down at the shifting wet blood cells. "This is amazing. Each blood cell is wiggling sideways and then smashing together, forming a tiny column of red bloody clumps."

Yaffle continued to grin down at each formed blood clumps. "And the growing column of blood clumps is related only to the dog antigen or the human blood protein." The wet blood stopped the movement and glittered underneath the row of bright overhead lamps. She smiled. "That is it! There are only two tiny blood clumps. One belongs to the dog. The other belongs to the dead humans."

Tarsal continued to stare and frowned down at the two small blood clumps that were drying in the air waves. "Which human clump is that for the mother or the father or the baby or the toddler or the child?"

Yaffle did not touch the two separate clumps but stared down at each one. "Blood types come in four formats of A or B or AB or O. The smaller blood clump that sparkles under the lights is the human blood proteins."

Tarsal gasped in worry. "But, inside the Wollen kitchen setting, the entire floor and almost all of the walls and most of the breakfast furniture and kitchen appliances were completely covered and coated in the human blood. The Birmingham CSI team unit confirmed that information. This is not good enough for a crime or a conviction of a crime."

Yaffle back stepped with a smile and removed the freezer gloves, placing them on the edge of the steel table. "Are you kidding me? This is an absolute miracle that we have figured it out and we have gotten this far solving the mysterious serial killer of the three murdered family units."

"She's right, Tarsal." Pearlet smiled down at the two tiny clumps of blood. "This is a miracle. The crowbar contains two different sets of blood, one from a dog and one from all the humans. So, how did the human clump of blood get into the dog's mouth?"

Tarsal frowned down at the dead dog. "The dog had licked on its dead, bloody family member goodbye. You told me that information the other day, Yaffle."

She frowned and waved both of her arms in the air, staring at Yaffle. "Wait! Wait! Wait! Why didn't the CSI laboratory personnel test the crowbar blood contents like us and found out that there is both dog blood and human blood stuff on the tool." She dropped both of her arms.

He gasped in alarm and pointed at Pearlet, nodding with a stern face. "That's! That's a great question. Why didn't the testers do the same method with Vitamin K liquid drops, like you, Doctor Yaffle?"

Yaffle continued to stare down at the dead dog and then looked up with a wink to see Tarsal. "Because Wallis had to pay for that particular doggie test on the murder weapon, the crowbar, with his money. And his set of highly paid and pretty row of female lawyers ordered the crowbar tested for dog salvia, not human proteins. The fired police chief Melum should have dove into this murder investigation and used her smart brains, helping ya'll analysis the unknown murderer. Maybe, she would have thought to test for both the dog antigens and the human proteins. But that is beside the point. Now, we have solved half of the puzzle. We need only the other half to finish constructing the jigsaw puzzle. And I know how to find the new answer."

Pearlet frowned down at the crowbar. "How do you or we do that?"

Yaffle spun around with a smile and moved ahead towards the closed door inside the morgue storage room. "We have another road trip right now. Follow me!" she exited the room and swiftly exited the building. Pearlet spun around next with puzzlement and followed the back spine on Yaffle, exiting the building, moving back into the ugly parked van. Tarsal spun around last with intrigue and closed up each room and the building, before scooting back into the rusty old van.

Each door slammed with a loud bang. Yaffle quickly drove off the parking lot of the police station, traveling with great speed down the roadway in silence, peeling onto the interstate, without drinking a warm beer or texting on her personal mobile telephone.

At 10:20 am, inside the van interior setting, Pearlet turned and frowned at the nose profile on Yaffle. "What is going on here, Doctor Yaffle? What are you thinking here? I don't understand. What did your blood test reveal? I am very confused here." Tarsal leaned over the space between the two captain chairs with a stern face listening to the explanation also.

Yaffle continued to speed down the interstate away from the city of Felton with a stern face. "We're going to the military office complex there in Birmingham which is near the airport grounds. The US military maintains a small base here, mostly for loading and unloading cargo that is headed into other places throughout the world. However, the US Birmingham military base is also a home for incoming war dogs..."

"War dog!" Tarsal frowned.

Yaffle continued to drive with a smile. "A war dog is a tiny eight-week-old puppy that has been trained in a doggie boot camp in US military combat to fight with a group of US military soldiers during peace time or war time. A war dog is always tattooed with a set of numbers and alphabetic letters in the interior skin on the left ear. I knew it. I knew that I was correct. The dead Giant Schnauzer dog breed has a set of numbers and letters inside its left ear which is a mark of a war dog..."

"Then, this war dog was really dangerous and really killed the entire Wollen family. Why would a war dog do that?" Tarsal frowned.

Yaffle continued to drive with great speed wearing a stern face. "This particular war dog could have been heavily traumatized due to its formal military training. No one might have known the true condition of the canine. Do you not remember my three road trips? I presented a hateful feral dog, a loving homey dog, and a viciously trained military dog."

Pearlet nodded with a worried brow. "That accounts for one murdered family unit. What about the other two dead family units?"

Tarsal nodded. "Let's solve each family unit one at time. I would like to have some solid evidence to present to Zimb, so I can get my old police detective job back."

Yaffle continued driving with a stern face. "Each US military base would have a listing of each war dog that had arrived here in Alabama. In the year 2000, President Bill Clinton signed into law that every retired war dog could be adopted by any American family here in the USA. Each one of those war dogs is registered and documented, living with its new family unit. We get the list of other war dogs and find the other war dogs taking them away from their adopted family unit with the help of the US military, of course, testing their aggressive dog behavior..."

"Wait! Can we really do this right now?" Tarsal frowned.

Yaffle continued to drive with a worried brow. "Yes, if the war dog is a potential threat to the adoptive family, then we can."

Pearlet wiggled side to side inside the ratty white tinted chair wearing a worried brow, wringing her hands. "I agree with this method. But we need to tell somebody besides ourselves here. We are running rouge and right with might and fright. I'm on suspension and suspicion now. If we are wrong, then I'll never be a police detective again."

Tarsal nodded with a worried brow. "I'm in the same situation, Pearlet. But I believe Yaffle. And I visually saw each chewed up human death on top of an individual table coming from their adopted war dog. We just have to find and take one war dog. We can prove that death theory with ease and without getting killed by a pair of fangs and claws. Then we show our experiment to Police Chief Melum. I mean, Zimb..."

"Zimb is not going to listen to you or me or Yaffle," Tarsal looked down with a sour frown to see the trash on the floor mats inside the van.

Pearlet nodded with a smile. "Then we take our dog experiment to each television station. The media reporters love to showcase violence."

Yaffle continued to drive with a smile. "That's an excellent suggestion, Pearlet. We go and show the media reporters. Then the US Federal Government will step in and stop these...these murders. What do you call a murder of a human by an animal?"

"Goodbye!" He laughed.

Military guard station setting

Hot temperatures with bright sunlight

10:39 am

The orange tinted rusty van quickly turned off the highway then slowly traveled down another smooth pavement and finally stopped. Yaffle rolled down the dirty window, saying with a nod and a smile to the female military solider. "Good morning. I am Yaffle."

The female soldier nodded with a smile. "Yes ma'am! You are welcome here all the time. Go inside!" Yaffle nodded again and slowly steered ahead down a long curvy road, increasing the speed.

Pearlet turned and sneered at the nose profile on Yaffle. "Why are you welcomed here at a military installation all the time, Doctor Yaffle? You do not possess a valid veterinarian license. I am very suspicious right now. We have found out that a war dog had been adopted into the Wollen family, where the dog had savagely killed each family member which was worse than a human cold-blood murder. A dog is a savage beast that is kin to the gray wolf, which is a wild animal. We don't possess legal laws for killer animals, only killing people. How...how is it possible for you to be accepted here at the military base," she gasped in alarm. "O no! She knows. She knows about the war dog adoption program. You have been providing clues and hints while stringing us along without telling us the truth. My police career..."

"Enough, Pearlet! We are here. We will listen. We will absorb all the facts." Tarsal continued to sit in the rear bench and viewed the new landscape with both doubt and worry also.

Yaffle obeyed the speed limit driving her van. She could get away with speeding on the regular highway. The military general didn't like troublemakers here. She frowned. "I read about the war dog adoption program. I come here and treat the horses. The military has a fine cavalry of horses like in the ancient days of gentle and elegance, which is gone foreverly. I still possess my valid veterinarian license, missy. I have chosen not to engage in private practice. I come here and relax enjoying the rural scenery and treat all the horses. The US Federal Government is cheap with the taxpayers' money and does not have provide an experienced veterinarian out here, only a roaming government veterinarian that comes out every six months. A horse needs treatment immediately, not six months from now. So, I come out here and treat the mammal for free. The military will pay for any required medications that the mammals need. We're traveling to a different office here at the military installation. I have knowledge of a War Dog Office, but I have never been there before. Once there, we can see and then review the war dog's background, training history, and its new adoptive parent."

In the rear seat, Tarsal nodded with a stern face. "Now, I understand. Wallis Wollen knew about the war dog adoption program also. Then he adopted a war dog that had been trained for fighting combat on voice or hand command. Then he re-trained the dog and sicced it on his own brother and his family members, chewing them into shredded piece of meat and blood. No wonder the walls were covered in blood. The brutal dog grabbed and then tore off each body part, spraying the blood around the walls and the floor and the ceiling. Wallis is a terrible man. I feel bad for the dog."

Pearlet stared through the semi-cracked and dirty windshield with a stern face. "So, Wallis, he shot the dog as it was only coming back to its original owner, after completing its vile command."

Yaffle stopped the van inside the parking slot and killed the engine, turning with a nod to see Pearlet and then Tarsal. "Yes. Wallis was the foster parent for that dog. Then he trained that dog to kill. Once that dog had obeyed and completed the command, then that dog was returning back to the foster parent for its reward, a death kill."

Pearlet sneered and shook her blonde tinted pixie cut. "This is so sick and demented. I can't really express any more words."

Tarsal gasped in alarm. "Will we be able to capture Wallis Wollen before he gets on that plane for the trip to the Bahamas?"

Pearlet turned and laughed at Tarsal. "Yes, Wallis does not leave until later, later another night. His married wife is seeking an immediate court order that will stop him from leaving the USA. She had been robbed by her swift and quickie divorce proceedings and had hired a high-power lawyer from big bad metro Birmingham. She's getting her money back..."

"Goodbye!" Tarsal laughed.

Yaffle spun around and then leaned down, ripping off a sliver of brown tinted paper from the paper sack, sitting upright back in her seat. She reached down and grabbed her blue ink pen from the pocket on her blue jean overalls, clicking the top, posing in front of the brown paper. "What is the tattoo number from the dead dog, Tarsal?"

Tarsal continued to sit in the rear side and pulled out his personal mobile telephone, touching the screen, reading out loud the tag number. "18080691P." She wrote the numbers down on top of the ratty, torn piece of paper in silence, returning the pen back into her exterior pocket.

"What are you doing, Doctor Yaffle?" Pearlet turned and frowned at the sliver of brown paper with the tattoo number.

Yaffle looked up with a wink to see Pearlet and Tarsal. "We are going inside the war dog office now. Please remain quiet and listen to the military officer. I will perform all the inquiries here," she opened the door with a laugh and slid down onto the pavement, moving ahead towards the single-story square-shaped building in red brick with a green tinted metal door without a glass window.

Tarsal slid open the side door on the van and dropped down onto the pavement, closing back the door, following the back spine on Yaffle. Pearlet opened the door and slid down onto the pavement with a huff of worry, closing back the door, moving behind Tarsal. They entered through the green tinted metal door inside a cold air-conditioned room.

At 10:51 am, inside the office building interior walls, "Good morning, sir! I am Yaffle Yird, DVM. I also hold a military ID as one of the veterinarians here," Yaffle moved ahead from the archway and pulled a plastic holder with a colorful picture of her face, stopping in front of the office desk, presenting it to the polished officer with a smile.

The male displayed a military uniform consisting of a white short-sleeved shirt, a pair of tan trousers, and a set of matching shoes, possessing a head of gray hair, a pair of green eyes, and a tone of weather wrinkled dark skin. He slowly stood upright from his office chair behind a long wooden office desk, looking down and read the badge, returning with a smile. "Ah! You care for our fine cavalry of horses. I am so sorry that I didn't recognize your name, Doctor Yaffle. I am Commander Jerius Alameth. What can I assist you with here?"

She pulled out a torn sheet of paper and handed it to the officer. "I have a military ID number on a war dog. The war dog had been killed in a car accident," Yaffle back stepped then sat down at the end of the row of chairs. Pearlet and Tarsal entered inside and then quickly sat down in silence while watching the military officer.

"Was the war dog traveling with its adopted parent?" He accepted the torn piece of paper and sat down, typing on the keyboard of his personal computer desktop with a stern face.

She nodded. "Yes."

The military officer stopped typing and then turned with a stern face to see Yaffle. "Then you must know the adopted parent of the deceased war dog already."

She flipped her hand and shook her silver tinted pixie cut. "What I mean to say! The entire car load of people was instantly killed with their individual family pet in route on a local country road. The dead people are slowing being identified. So, I am honoring the same method of identification for each dead dog."

He frowned, "O! How terrible!"

She exhaled with a nod. "Yes, yes, this is a terrible event for all involved here."

The male officer smiled with a nod. "I would be happy to assist here. You were very wise to examine the dog's body. So, you must have seen a tag number which was located inside the left side on the dog's ear that has been tattooed in black ink onto the soft tissue skin."

She nodded. "Yes sir! I wrote down the tag number from the dog's skin which is 18080691P."

He slowly typed and stared at the computer screen with a puzzled brow. "Are you certain that you wrote down the correct sequence of numbers?"

"Yes," she looked down and studied the torn piece of paper with her neat penmanship. "I remembered writing down the tag number sequence from sight. This is the number that was tattooed inside the dog's skin on the left interior ear. 18080691P."

He continued to type and then stopped, scrolling the mouse pad down the screen in silence.

"Is there a problem here, sir?" Yaffle frowned with puzzlement.

He studied the computer monitor screen with a stern face. "Well, I asked if you had jolted down the proper tag number sequence as I cannot find the row of numbers that matched that piece of paper."

She gasped. "That's impossible, sir!"

He continued to study the computer screen and hummed with a baritone tone, "Hmm! I agree with your analysis, ma'am. But it is very strange."

"What is very strange?"

He continued to type on the keyboard with a stern face, explaining the information. "Each war dog always receives a tattooed number as a tag number inside the left ear skin during its combat time during military training. But each tag number is a very short range of math numbers with three or four digits ending with a single alphabetic letter. Your ear tag displays a long range of math numbers ending with an alphabet letter within the tag sequence. I have been scrolling through all the listed war dogs that have been adopted here within our geographical region for the past two years. No other war dog possesses a tag number with a single, or multiple alphabetic letters."

She gasped in shock. "Did the Birmingham War Office add the additional line of numbers onto the skin in the dog for better tracking and communication with its adoptive parent?"

"No. We do not perform any type of medical surgeries on any mammal here. We are a receiving dock and office for any new war dog that wants to be adopted. We handle all the government paperwork and then receive the dog. The war dog is brought here and then collected here by its new adoptive parent. Of course, we supervisor every step to ensure the war dog is happy and healthy with their new adoptive parent." He stopped typed and stared into the computer monitor again. "However, this is all very strange. I can query with a different method. What breed is the dog? Where was the war dog housed after the hero mammal had been adopted? Can you tell me that information, Doctor Yaffle?"

She nodded with a smile. "Yes, I can. The war dog is a Giant Schnauzer breed, a solid black coat, weighing about one hundred pounds and twenty-eight inches in height."

He nodded with a smile and started typing on the keyboard. "That is a wonderful description. Now, I can query on different levels for your war dog."

Yaffle turned and winked at Tarsal and then Pearlet, smiling in silence. Tarsal and Pearlet continued to sit inside the chair, surveying the tiny room.

The room space featured a small square setting. The forward solid wall contained rows of individual framed portraits with an individual dog that was standing or sitting alone. Each side wall contained a row of black metal filing cabinets, without a wall decoration. The office desk and chair stood in the middle of a beige patient room on top of a dark wooden floor with a high polish glaze.

Tarsal continued to sit in the chair beside Pearlet and looked up with a smile, slowly examining each row with an individually mounted glass picture-framed canine dog, slowly shuffling through each portrait and then gasped in alarm.

Jerius finished typing and raised both of his hands near his jawline, returning back with a smile, viewing his three new guests. He slapped both of his palms on top of the empty desk surface, "That query is going to take a few minutes. In the meantime, I can explain the purpose of a war dog. Canine dogs have been in military combat and paired with groups of US military soldiers during every major war conflict throughout the world, since the beginning of time. However, none of the canine dogs were officially recognized as serving in a war or representing a war dog, until Sergeant Stubby from the 102nd Infantry unit came along. The brave and bold bulldog had been smuggled into the battle environment by Private Robert Conway. Sergeant Stubby could detect the scent of enemy gases, barked out numerous loud warnings, when the enemies were approaching, and he located each wounded soldier on the active battlefield. The US military finally recognized the value of a dog during warfare, thus the war dog was created. A war dog is trained in bomb sniffing, weapons and drug detection, and tracking and attacking the enemy. A total of 1,000 puppies are trained all at a same time inside a special dog training facility here within the USA. The complex is designed to use the dog's natural gifts of sniffing and bravery. The dog breeds of German Shepherds and Labrador Retrievers can detect weapons, bombs, gases, and drugs with more accuracy than any other military equipment. There are 1,700 dogs in active service right now and 500 dogs are deployed overseas. Eighty-five percent of the puppies are purchased directly from the Central and Eastern Europe continent coming out of the foreign countries of Germany and the Netherlands..."

"Wait!" Tarsal lifted his cupped palm near his puzzled brow, saying to the military officer. "A USA war dog is not a home-grown war dog that was birthed here in America."

Jerius nodded with a smile. "The USA military is not very good at producing war dogs. In the country of Germany, a dog training culture runs deep there, which has existed for centuries," he laughed. "And a side note here, each foreign-born female puppy is named, such like, Cutie, Suzi-Q, Precious, Roxy, Raquel, Muffin. When the male handler calls back home and corrects his war dog with that sexy, girly name, his own girlfriend becomes jealous. Then the male handler has to explain the reason. Currently, A US procurement officer will make four trips a year and stock up on European puppies."

In the row of chairs, Pearlet frowned at the military officer. "Wow! That's incredible. I would think the risk of relying on foreign puppies as the source of our war dogs would be a high security problem."

Jerius nodded. "Yes, it could be, but it is not. The ten-week old puppies from the country of Germany that comes from an original bloodline of German Shepherds which go back hundreds of years, making the puppy born with the right stuff and for the right USA job. Right now, fifteen percent of war dogs are born and bred here in the USA, but the military hopes to increase the number. For your education, a fully trained bomb detection dog is worth 250,000 dollars, US. Only fifty percent of the 1,000 puppies complete the US war dog training. A military dog is chosen by the breed, the keen sense of smell, and free from any physical issues, like hip dysplasia, and must be highly motivated for a reward, which is not necessarily a food treat."

Pearlet nodded. "War is hell. Everyone knows that statement is both true and accurate. How many war dogs make it out alive from its military duty, such like, a U.S. solider?"

Jerius nodded. "That is a very point, young lady. The most suitable military dog must be able to attack on command. Numerous puppies have been dropped from the war dog program due to extreme stress after having to bite a human, on command. So, a war dog must have the proper chemical mixture of aggression and excitement for its new military job. Some of the war dogs include German Shepherds, Labrador Retrievers, and Belgian Malinois. Each dog will also participate in parachuting and repelling missions off the helicopter and through the air with their US handler. However, a war dog could become stressed like a U.S. war solider also. When that happens, the war dog is retired and adopted by a US family. Robby's Law was created in the year 2000. The law permits the handler and their family unit first dibs at adopting the war dog at the end of their useful military service. There is a long list of civilians who want to adopt a war dog. Currently, sixty percent of all war dogs that retire and are placed back here in the USA due to injury, tear tendons, hip problems, and aggressive spondylosis. However, the dark reality here, when a war dog dies, the entire military troop is depressed."

Pearlet frowned. "That sounds more like a sad story than a hero tale."

The computer sounded with a loud beep. Jerius turned and smiled at the computer screen, reaching down, typing on the keyboard with a soft hum, "Hmm! I do not have a war dog among my listing here inside the US military electronic database here."

Yaffle gasped in shock and then nodded with concern. "So, could the deceased war dog have been adopted from the war office in the northern city of Huntsville or the southern beach town of Mobile instead?"

He returned and frowned at Yaffle. "That is possible, but improbable. We are pretty sticky about adoption rules here in Birmingham and throughout the USA. If the war dog becomes harmed by its adoptive parent, then the US Federal Government takes immediate and severe action against the violent individual. Thus, I would have been immediately notified and noted if a war dog had been adopted within my governmental territory. Excuse the dog pun!" He smiled. "My territory includes the townships of Felton and Gardenville and Warrior all the up towards Cullman, Alabama. I cannot find a single war dog that is listed as a Giant Schnauzer dog breed, a solid black coat, weighing about one hundred pounds and twenty-eight inches in height. My listing is complete and updated."

Pearlet gasped in shock with the new information. Either the military soldier was hiding the information, or the dog was not a hero of the war. "But that doesn't make any sense here. What does this mean, sir?"

The older and short military officer leaned back into the ancient wooden chair, saying with a smile to each person. "I would say that the dog is not a war dog."

Tarsal reached up and touched his earlobe, saying with a sour frown. "But you received the dog here and the dog displayed a tag ear number. Then you must be a new military officer here at the military installation, sir."

The military officer shook his gray hair. "I have been here for over twenty years. Do you see the gray hair over my ears?" He laughed. "Excuse the dog pun again!"

Yaffle exhaled with worry. "I am thoroughly confused here. If the war office did not add the long numeric sequence and the single alphabetic letter that is located inside the dog's left ear and the war office computer did not find the war dog, then the dead dog does not exist as a war dog."

The military officer nodded with a smile. "That is my final conclusion, also, ma'am. I am sorry. Your deceased canine is not a war dog. As a matter of fact, I recall vividly the last group of war dogs that came here over the last three years. Each picture is mounted onto the back wall. I enjoy taking a picture of the war hero. It is my way to honor each furry warrior, who came back home and found a new friend," he spun around in the ancient wooden chair and pointed at the rear wall. "You can look and see with our own set of eyeballs. I do not see a Giant Schnauzer dog breed with a solid black coat, weighing about one hundred pounds and twenty-eight inches in height," his eyeballs swiftly examined each mounted picture.

In the row of chairs, Yaffle looked up with a confused brow and rapidly examined each framed picture of an individual dog on the solid rear wall with her trained veterinarian eyeballs also. "I agree. I do not see a Giant Schnauzer dog breed with a solid black coat, weighing about one hundred pounds and stands at the shoulder twenty-eight inches in height. Can you provide an educated guess about the dead dog with the ear tattoo?"

The military officer spun the ancient chair around to see the row of chairs, saying with a smile to each face. "Well, the owner might have wanted a special designation for his dog. There are too many dog robbers which are located here within the area that would take any dog and do who knows what to it. That visual ear tattoo would provide a quick identification to save the dog's life or inform the owner of a dead pet. Or a vile dog company purchased the mature dog and then viciously burned a black tattoo into the left ear on the dog. Then the dog company sold the dog as a war dog to an unsuspecting owner. The owner thought they were adopting a war hero. I can only think of those two terrible incidents, ma'am." He reached down with a smile and snatched up the paper, handing back the torn piece of paper to Yaffle.

Yaffle nodded with a stern face to the nice military officer. "You are correct. You have been a very big help, to me, sir." The rear door inside the office room opened and revealed a black tinted Giant Schnauzer dog breed. She swiftly stood upright from the office chair with a gasp of shock. "There! There's a black tinted Giant Schnauzer dog breed with a solid black coat..."

Jerius slowly stood upright from his office chair and thumbed back over his collar bone with a smile. "O! This is my married wife of twenty years. That is our family pet. She is not a war dog, Doctor Yaffle. She is a family pet, since a six-week-old puppy. I'm so sorry that the dog's entrance stunned your imagination, Doctor Yaffle. I will repeat again. That piece of paper does not contain a tag number for a war dog. I am sorry for wasting your time, Doctor Yaffle."

Tarsal scooted around the chair and lifted both of his palms near his jawline. "We are sorry here, sir. We didn't mean to waste your time. Thanks for the shared information, Commander," he spun around with a fake smile and exited the office. Pearlet quickly exited the office behind Tarsal next. Yaffle accepted the sliver of torn paper with a nod in silence and spun around, exiting the office last.

Yaffle, Tarsal, and Pearlet slowly moved across the vanilla tinted sidewalk and then entered back into the rusty van, slamming each door shut. They sat inside the van in silent defeat.

At 11:22 am, among the heated temperatures with bright sunshine, inside the van interior setting, driver Yaffle exhaled with a puzzled brow, cranking the engine, staring down at the steering column. "I was so certain."

Tarsal sat in the rear bench seat and exhaled with defeat also. "What do we do now?"

Pearlet stared through the semi-cracked and dirty windshield with puzzlement. "Why was there a black tinted tattoo burned inside that dog's left eardrum? The tattoo was disguised and presented like a war dog, to me. There is something else going on here."

Yaffle exhaled again. "There is nothing here, Pearlet. Wallis Wollen was a crazy man and has gotten away with fifteen counts of cold-blooded murder here. And I cannot prove either."

Tarsal frowned. "That murderous act is assuming that Wallis Wollen is the owner. Wallis is the owner. Our death theory is both valid and sound. We just need to connect the vicious dead dog to the more vicious, vile dog owner Wallis."

Pearlet gasped in alarm and snapped her fingers. "Drive like the wind, right now, Yaffle!"

Yaffle nodded with a smile and pressed the gasoline pedal, backing out from the parked space, driving slowly through the US Federal Government military installation. Then the old van violently jolted forward and released a plume of black smoke, speeding down the interstate.

Pearlet turned and winked to Tarsal. "Yes, we can connect Wallis to his murderous dog. We have the evidence."

Tarsal frowned. "What evidence?"

She smiled. "We collected the evidence yesterday morning consisting of all these loose pieces of papers and tiny and large paid paper receipts and paper legal documents coming out from the Wollen murder house. The physical evidence is there inside the police station storage room. We can still nail his hind for this murder inside his new personal jail cell."

He frowned. "Why would the paper evidence be in there, Pearlet?"

"If Wallis did purchase a dog and then trained the dog to kill a person or a group of people like his family members, then he also had to plant the dog to live inside the Wollen murder house. So, Wallis gave his brother both the dog and the papers also. You know how every family wants a registered dog to brag about and show out during a social party. So, there is a set of doggie registered papers for that Giant Schnauzer breed dog which will show us, where the dog was purchased and who the real owner was. These papers will show the name of Wallis Wollen..."

"That's a long shot." Tarsal shook his skull with a sour frown.

She nodded with a smile. "That's the right shot coming right out from the right cold barrel of a non-smoking gun. This cold-blooded murderer is not a hand gun. This cold-blooded murderer is a wild vicious animal that truly killed each family unit. And you and I are on the warpath now. We are going to figure it out and prove it and get Wallis Wollen arrested for the final time. They say that number three is a charmer."

Yaffle continued to speed down the road with a smile. "Go, girl!"

Pearlet exhaled with a sigh. "Look! I lost my job. I have lost my house. I am not going down without a vocal or written or electronic and maybe a physical fight to defend my honor and my glory and my person. Wallis Wollen trained that nice dog as a killer canine. He has all the doggie papers and all the money receipts from its dog training that turned a nice family pet into a vile murderous beast. The dog is dead. Wallis, he knew that the dog would lead to his arrest and then his sentencing of death in the Montgomery electric chair. So, he conveniently killed that dog right in front of a police officer for one reason, Tarsal, to stop us from pursuing that line of crime. Who is going to investigate a dead dog? No one, but us. We're going to prove all my vocal words. The set of cardboard boxes possesses all of that hard-physical evidence for that nice but deadly dog."

Yaffle dangerously sped off from the interstate ramp onto an empty roadway, quickly driving back to the police station building in silence. Each person was both tired and excited that the new information could pinpoint the murderer. Yaffle slammed down on the brake pads reducing the speed, pulling into the parking lot and then halted the van.

At 11:41 am, inside the van interior, Pearlet opened the car passenger door and slid down onto the pavement with a stern face, dashing ahead and stopped at the rear door, bouncing up and down while waiting for Tarsal. Yaffle slid down and stood on top of the pavement, swiftly moving ahead towards the rear building. Tarsal slammed open the van door and raced down over the pavement with a smile, bumping into Pearlet for fun, steadying her within his arms and punched in the secret number code.

The rear door cracked open.

He opened the door and entered first moving down the hallway and stopped, standing beside the secret side wall holding opened the door for each lady.

Pearlet led first into the morgue storage room and pointed ahead. "We go through the morgue storage room and move through the lounge room. The evidence boxes are all located inside the dry storage room without a window. Follow me!" Yaffle followed the back spine on Pearlet and then Tarsal. Pearlet swiftly moved ahead and passed each table slamming her hand into the closed steel coated door. The bright light inside the lounge room temporarily blinded her two eyes and as she blinked them open and then shut. She continued to move ahead while ignoring the side wall of food items, slapping her hand onto the red tinted metal door. Yaffle continued to follow the back spine on Pearlet and then Tarsal without stopping to view the new room. Pearlet moved into the police work space and veered to the side wall, moving down the sparkling wall of white shiny paint and then stopped, slapping her hand onto the yellow tinted metal door.

The door slid open.

She reached inside and flipped on the lights, seeing numerous white tinted storage boxes on top of the floor or the assigned shelves. She moved ahead and stopped, squatted down near the first white tinted cardboard box. "This group of cardboard boxes here inside the storage room comes from the Wollen murder house. Zimb told Tarsal and I to place all the murder boxes here yesterday. The hard evidence of a paper trail located in here, somewhere," exhaling. She reached up and flipped off the lid, leaning over, grabbing a stack of loose papers. She gently settled the loose pile of papers in front of her folded kneecaps, lifting, examining each one. Yaffle entered the small room, stopped, and squatted down on the opposite side of Pearlet. Tarsal moved ahead with a grin, stopped, and squatted down in front of the numerous white tinted cardboard boxes that held a hand-written word: Wollen murder.

Pearlet reached out and flipped off the lid, leaning inside using both hands as a shovel, pulling a thick pile of papers. "For a thorough-bred canine, the registration papers are a stack of thin papers. However, the single registration page is very easy to recognize. The single page will be yellow tinted or off-white hue or white colored border around the edge. The paper looks like a colorful birth certificate for a newborn baby. The paper is pretty-looking and cute. So, look for any type of paper with a colorful border, which will be much easier here," she dropped the stack of papers down at her cross-legged pose on the floor and lifted, quickly examining each piece of paper. Tarsal reached out and flipped off the lid, leaning inside and grabbed a stack of papers, placing in front of his crossed legs, examining each piece of paper.

Forty-four minutes later, at 12:30 pm, Pearlet lifted the pretty piece of paper of color near her smile, shaking her body and the paper, at the same time. "I found it. I found it. This is it. This is it. This is the registration paper for the Giant Schnauzer dog breed. And the paper is yellow tinted with a blue tinted border around the edge of the paper. The dog was named Bo-Bo. The dog was almost one year old. The dog arrived here six months ago and was given to the Wollen family with the father Wrest as the registered owner. However, I don't see the name of Wallis Wollen anywhere on this piece of papers.

Yaffle slowly stood upright from the floor and moved ahead, squatting beside Pearlet, extending his hand. "May I see that single registration paper, please!"

Pearlet handed Yaffle the single piece of paper and looked down, shuffling through the stack, collecting the rest of the registration papers. She carefully read silently through each line on the paper searching for the name of Wallis Wollen. Tarsal stopped searching and stared at both Yaffle and Pearlet while waiting on their decision and the next step.

Yaffle shook her skull and continued to examine the single piece of colored paper. "I don't understand. I thought that Wallis Wollen had purchased and then trained a killer dog. But I do not see his name here. This is where his name should be both typed and signed."

Pearlet frowned down at the stack of thin papers also. "And I have read each line on the other registration papers. Wallis Wollen, his name is not here either," she looked up with a puzzled brow and stared at Tarsal. "I don't understand. I thought I was so right. What is wrong with this situation?" Tarsal frowned in silence.

Yaffle frowned. "The breed dog was purchased from a dog adoption agency which is entitled, Love Them All," she looked up with puzzlement to see Tarsal. "I have never heard of that dog adoption agency. Can we research the company, Love Them All?"

"Of course," Tarsal swiftly stood upright from the floor and spun around with a grin, moving ahead towards one of the laptops. He stopped and leaned down, booting the computer, typing on the keyboard. This was one of the student's laptop that didn't carry a common username and password. He stopped typing on the keyboard and stared at the computer screen. "Love Them All, it is a very small and privately held business company. It is listed as a dog adoption agency and it is still in business here in the city of Gardenville. It is rated as a good business venture also. However, their web site mentions that the company is closed down for an extended vacation time for a couple of months."

Yaffle followed the back spine on Tarsal and stopped next to his nose profile, reading the computer screen with puzzlement. "Is that strange? We have found conflicting information from two of its canines."

He stood upright and turned to face Yaffle with a smile. "No, not really. This is a private mom and pop independent business. The owners could be on vacation. The business company could have purchased the dog somewhere else in America and then passed the dog without their knowledge onto the dead owner. The police can go and question the business and seek a search warrant, looking through their business records also, once the owners return from vacation. But that's not going to happen today. First, I need to convince new Felton police chief Zimb that I have found two killer dogs that killed their owners."

Yaffle frowned. "So, what is the next step here?"

He frowned. "Don't know."

Yaffle exhaled with frustration. "I am out of new ideas. I originally thought that Wallis Wollen murdered his brother and family members. But I was wrong too. Then I thought a wild animal had murdered the Wollen family. I was right. Then I thought the family dog was a killer trained war dog. But I was wrong. Then I thought that Wallis Wollen had purchased and trained a killer war dog, murdering his brother and family members. But, again, I am wrong."

He nodded. "Did his brother Wrest Wollen accidentally purchase a killer dog by mistake through the dog adoption company, Love Them All? The dog and the crowbar contained both his human and his family dog blood. You proved that to us."

She frowned. "That is still a great death murder theory. I don't know how to prove without contacting the dead brother Wrest or the vacationing owners at the dog adoption company, Love Them All."

Pearlet appeared with a smile, dashed into the police work space, and stopped, bouncing up and down with excitement. "I found it. I found it." She shook the single piece of paper. "I have found a paper invoice with the company name, Love Them All. Love Them All is the same dog adoption agency on this piece of paper also. The dog company gave them a mature dog, a German Shepherd, to the Jarvis family at 701 Walker Court. This is it. This is the hard-physical murder evidence. I personally inspected that bloody trailer house, where each dead body was ripped apart like each one had been killed by a killer dog. I didn't find any hard evidence of a dog that large in both body and bones. I would not have thought that a canine lived with the murdered family."

Tarsal turned and frowned at Pearlet. "How did you find that?"

She nodded. "I was first police detective on the scene. When you get to the murder scene, it is yours."

He frowned. "So, what does all of this mean? Two dogs came from the same dog adoption company. I can echo the words of Zimb into my butthole," Tarsal laughed alone.

Yaffle clapped with a smile. "This is the missing piece of an extra-large jigsaw mental puzzle. We are about to solve this murder mystery, ya'll. I agree with Pearlet. This is the physical evidence. And I agree with Tarsal. There are two dogs that came from two murdered family units, including the mother, the father, and the children. Now, we need to find and examine their family dog that came from the same dog adoption company which is called Love Them All. Where is that family dog located now? If it belonged to the dead family, someone must have adopted that dog."

Pearlet gasped. "I don't know. I don't know that the family had a German Shepherd. I didn't see a dog there at the trailer. Wait!" She gasped. "Wait! Wait! There was a lawyer the other day that had arrived here at the police station. He was a dog bite ligation lawyer. The lawyer represented a family. One of the family members had been bitten by a wandering pet dog. The family lived...lived further down on Stouts Court and they claimed the dog belonged to the Gubnat family that had lived also on the same street, Stouts Court. Did you find evidence of a dog inside that burnt house?"

Tarsal shook both his skull and his hands. "No. No. That dog bite and that man were not connected to any of these murders. That man was pretending to be a lawyer and then he actually tested each one of us for the police chief job."

She frowned. "But we didn't pass the oral police chief examination."

He slapped his chest with a smile. "I did."

She sneered. "No. We both did not pass the verbal examination. Else, one of us would have become the new police chief, where Zimb did."

He laughed. "Not true! I did pass. It was the false arrest on Wallis Wollen that got me canned and then fired and the loss of the new Felton police chief position," frowning.

Yaffle exhaled with annoyance. "Excuse me here! I need to find a missing German Shepherd from the dead Jarvis family unit. Where is that dog?"

Tarsal frowned. "I don't know."

Pearlet gasped. "O no! I do know. I mean. I didn't know. I mean. The dog was killed when the teen with the car hit the dog."

Yaffle gasped. "What are you talking about?"

Pearlet nodded. "When I went to investigate the murdered Jarvis family unit, I entered their trailer and found all the dead bodies and an ocean of twinkling blood. I finished my police investigation and then exited the trailer to contact the CSI team. One of these big muscle cars swiftly rolled down the access road and then hit a running dog. The dog was a German Shepherd breed. The dog was alive but injured. The teen in the car got out and then shot the dog with his personal and illegal hand gun. I arrested the teen..."

"What happened to the dog?" Yaffle sneered with annoyance at Pearlet.

Pearlet gasped. "I don't know. I guess the city street cleaning pickup truck came and picked up the dead doggie body."

Tarsal frowned. "No! That trailer park is the home of the illegal aliens..."

"Tarsal!" Pearlet yelled.

He tossed both of his arms in the air and wore a sour frown. "I am making a point here. The Felton street cleaning truck will not clean up that access point inside that trailer park compound on Walker Court, simply because it is de-pooped and de-spitted and disputed land property that neither the city of Felton or the city of Gardenville wants to claim for any reason. So, the dead dog body is still there. I am most assured," he dropped both of his arms and slapped his legs, nodding with a stern face.

Yaffle spun away from the two police officers with a smile then moved ahead through the police work space towards the closed red tinted metal door. "Let's go and find that dead dog!" She quickly strolled through the lounge room, then the morgue storage room, and finally exited the building into her van. Pearlet dashed behind Yaffle and wore a stern face, exiting the building, moving back into the old van in silence. Tarsal moved last out the room with a smile and closed all the doors, exiting the building, sliding back into her ugly van.

At 01:01 pm among the heated temperatures with bright sunshine, inside the van interior setting, driver Yaffle swiftly broke the speed limit down an empty county roadway and arrived at the trailer park in record time without a police escort. Yaffle had been lucky with her speeding habits today. Each police officer was located at the Gardenville auditorium enjoying the music, controlling the massive crowd of natives from both the tiny town of Felton and Gardenville. She halted the van and parked on the grassy edge on the city street.

Tarsal continued to sit in the rear bench seat, looking up to see the hilly side with a line of dull yellow and white tinted trailer homes. "Why did you park the van so far away from the rows of trailer homes, Doctor Yaffle?"

Pearlet opened the door with a sneer. "Because, I am not a police officer and neither are you, Tarsal."

"O!" Tarsal opened the door with a sour frown, sliding down onto the rough pavement, looking up the hilly roadway, "Yeah."

Yaffle opened the door and slid down onto the rough pavement, slamming the driver's door shut. "Yes, Pearlet is correct. We truck it up the trailer court and then ask around for the dead dog. Someone saw it or maybe buried it. Let us move ahead," she climbed the hill with a stern face in silence.

Tarsal continued to stand and stared at the hill of trailer homes, slamming the door. "Do you have un-burial tools inside your van?"

Yaffle continued to move ahead. "I have tools on my body."

Pearlet slid down the seat and slammed the door shut slowly climbing the hillside, scouting the new landscape. The trailer park featured a row of whitish-gray trailers on each side of the access roadway. Outside the trailer, a gang of children played with fun. Pearlet moved ahead and easily spotted the Jarvis trailer. The trailer house had not been removed by the owner. Wallis Wollen owned the property and promised to replace the nasty ruined trailer house, if you believed a billionaire. She continued ahead and then stopped, standing in the middle of the road.

Tarsal moved ahead and passed her, scanning the landscape for a lump of dead dog. "What are you doing stopping there, Pearlet?"

Pearlet pointed down at the bloody spot. "This is where the dog was killed by the mean teen. So, the dog must be around here somewhere."

Tarsal stopped and stood a few feet ahead of Pearlet in the middle of the gray tinted hilly roadway while scanning the landscape. "I would say that the dead dog is inside the garage dump. Do you have another set of work clothes, Yaffle?"

Yaffle slowly climbed the hilly roadway and scanned the new landscape for a dead, smelly dog, sniffing the air waves. "Yeah, I got some work clothing that we can use to dig through the garage mess."

The little girl skipped across the roadway on the jump rope, stopped, and stood beside Pearlet. "Are you the police? I saw you before."

Pearlet turned around with a smile and then squatted down with a smile. "Yes, I am a police officer. I remember seeing you also."

"Are you arresting someone that hurt my friend Javier?"

Pearlet nodded with a smile. "Yes, I am here to do that. But first, I am looking for a hurt dog. The dog rested here and was hurt. Do you remember that also?"

The little girl looked down and frowned at the dark spot on the roadway. "Yeah, that doggie got hurt there."

Pearlet smiled at the little girl. "Where did the hurt dog go?" The little girl looked up with a smile and then skipped around Pearlet, moving ahead over the roadway, heading closer to the Jarvis trailer house. Pearlet stood upright from the roadway and spun around, following the little girl in silence. Yaffle and Tarsal spun around and followed the back spine on Pearlet in silence and as each pair of eyeballs scouted the new landscape.

The little girl stopped the jumping and stood before the yellow police tape, pointing at the tree with a smile. "That doggie got hurt. That hurt doggie got over there near that tall tree."

Pearlet dashed ahead and stood behind the little girl, dropping down the arm on the child without suspicion. "Thank you! Thank you! We are going the help the hurt dog," she gently scooted the little girl away from the yellow police tape and twisted the little girl back to her home. "You can go back home. Okay? We will help the hurt dog."

"Okay!" The little girl started skipping with the jump rope and moved ahead back to her home with a smile.

Yaffle ducked down first underneath the yellow tinted police tape and moved ahead, staring at the tall tree. The healthy tree stood in a line with other tall trees guarding the twenty feet entrance down into the Black Creek forest park and walking trail. On top of the exposed brown tinted tree roots, a dark green garage bag stood alone. The smell of the dead dog raised the nostrils on Yaffle first without shouting out loud. She was an animal veterinarian and used to the smell.

Tarsal ducked down second underneath the police tape and slowly moved ahead, holding his nose, saying with a funny voice, "Geez!"

"Silence!" Yaffle sneered. "We have work to do. If you cannot take the heat, then you need to get out of the kitchen, Tarsal."

Tarsal slowly moved ahead and dropped his nose, without appearing suspicious to the other on-lookers that were staring through the glass window from inside each trailer house. He stopped and stood a few feet before the dark green garage bag, exhaling with annoyance.

Pearlet ducked down last underneath the police tape and stood upright from the grass, slowly twirling around, viewing the rest of the landscape. A few on-lookers were curious about the police officer but did not approach here.

She spun around with a smile and moved ahead without holding her nose holes but breathed through her parted lips. She stopped and stood beside Tarsal, watching Yaffle.

Yaffle squatted down in front of the yellow tinted plastic garbage bag and reached out, ripping off the plastic, examining the skull on the German Shepherd.

"Geez!" Tarsal held his breath and then breathed through a pair of parted lips. The dog was bloated and covered in maggots and blowflies. "Rigor mortis has set in."

Yaffle touched and examined the body. "Rigor mortis set in at four hours of death. This dog has been dead for five days or so. The eyeballs have sunk down into the skull. The large dog body is bloated and swollen grotesquely. This hot heat summertime weather doesn't help this dead dog body either. I need to yank off its skull and then take it with me..."

"No," Pearlet shouted out loud and then turned to see the growing crowd of on-lookers coming out from each trailer. She returned with a low sneer. "That act is both disgusting and unsanitary. Do your doctor work here, Yaffle?"

"I can't do my veterinarian work here. The bag is filled with maggots. The body on the door is filled with insects. I don't want this body inside my van. Tarsal, run down and grab my black veterinarian bag. It is underneath my driver's seat. You can't miss it." Yaffle frowned and reached down, shaking off all the insects from the skull head on the dead German Shepherd.

Tarsal spun around with a gasp and stared at the rows of on-lookers. He moved ahead with a smile and waved both of his arms in the air. "It is okay here, folks. We are helping the dog."

One of the dark-skinned women yelled in confusion. "The dog is dead."

"The dog body is police evidence, ma'am." Tarsal turned with a sneer and raced down the steep hill on the access road, slamming into the side of the ancient van with a loud grunt. He back stepped with a sneer and wiped the sweat from his forehead, turning to see the front of the van, racing towards the passenger seat. He opened the door and then climbed inside the floor on the front seat, leaning down, reaching underneath her driver's seat and scanned blind.

He found a small bag with numerous lumpy hard items inside the leather pouch that bulged outward, grabbing the bag, drawing it near his foot. He slowly back stepped and stood upright with a huff of frustration, spinning around, racing back up the sloped access road and entered into the police taped crime scene. Finally, Tarsal arrived back at the tall tree and squatted down, closing his eyelids at the ugly site.

Yaffle still squatted down and hovered over the dead dog, placing both large cupped hands over each side of the skull, twisting to one side. Each bone within the dog skull snapped with a loud crack and then broke off from the neckline on the dog but without fully releasing the bone skull.

"Ugh!" Tarsal curled his lip but didn't cover the smell with his hand.

Pearlet did cover her face with both hands and then slowly turned around, peeking through the cracks of her fingers, staring at the numerous rows of on-lookers, which consisted of young children and adult women. "Uh! We need to toss up a blanket or something covering her work with the dog's head. The innocent and curious citizens are watching us and Doctor Yaffle."

Yaffle continued to hold the partially decapitated head on the dead dog in the air, pulling on the red tinted neck muscle tendons without successfully breaking off the skull, saying with a sneer. "Let them watch! Or they might be the next family unit victims, if I don't figure this mystery out. Hand me my portal buzz saw! It's a tiny little cylinder devise of silver tint with a rotating circle of blades which are really sharp," she extended her bloody palm to Tarsal.

Tarsal leaned down and opened the veterinarian bag, rummaging through the small pieces of metal equipment, pulling out the portal buzz saw. He placed the object inside her palm.

She closed her palm and then activated the side switch. The tiny buzz saw vibrated with a sharp ear-piercing sound. She leaned down at the first red tinted tendon. "Now, pull out the dark green bag. I'll place the sawed-off head inside the bag and then we'll transport it back to the police station."

Tarsal leaned down and rummaged through the bag again, pulling out a folded green tinted bag, unfolding the bag, standing upright from the ground. He held the plastic bag open while hiding Yaffle and some of her veterinarian work. Yaffle placed the rotating blades down onto the first muscle tendon creating a loud buzzing sound. The innocent and curious citizens screamed out loud about the same time and then spun around, scurrying away from Pearlet, Tarsal, Yaffle, and the dead dog.

Yaffle was very fast and finished with the sawing technique, jerking off the bone skull from the poor dead dog body, "Gimme the bag, Tarsal!" Tarsal quickly opened the bag and squatted down even with Yaffle, holding his breath, opening the bag. She held up the skull in the air while dropping down numerous flying and crawling insects plus fragments of dried bone, dunking the head down into the bag.

Tarsal quickly closed the bag and exhaled his sour breath, turning to the side view, inhaling some fresh air molecules. Removing the dead dog head had stirred more stinky molecules in the air waves. He slowly stood upright from the ground and spun around, holding the bag away from his body, swiftly moving back to the van. Pearlet turned to face the back spine on Tarsal then swiftly followed behind him.

Yaffle placed the garbage bag over the dead dog with a quick prayer of mercy, standing upright from the grass, spinning around from the garbage bag and wiped the dog's wet blood on her working blue jean overalls, like normal. She jogged back down the sloped access roadway and then quickly entered the driver's seat.

Tarsal had opened the rear compartment doors and shoved the garbage bag with the dead dog skull over the floor, slamming the door shut. He dashed ahead and slid back into the rear bench seat, wiping his non-dirty but sweaty naked hand over his clean clothes while shivering with yucky emotions.

Pearlet slid back down into the front passenger seat, slamming the door shut, turning to stare at the nose profile on Yaffle. "What do you hope to find with the dead bone skull on the German Shepherd, Doctor Yaffle? You have been sorta mysterious with your findings to me."

Yaffle cranked the engine and jerked the gear into drive, spinning the back tires on the loose gravel, flinging pebbles and dirt in the air. She swiftly drove away from the access roadway at the trailer park and barely stopped at the first traffic light, which was bright red. There were no other vehicles on the roadway as each citizen was located inside the Gardenville auditorium, clapping for their child, listening to the amateur musicians from each local elementary, middle, and high school on the last day of the school session. Tomorrow, the day was the official time period of summer for each school student and their fun time with their family unit.

Yaffle rapidly steered down an empty main highway with great speed. None of the police squad cars were out patrolling any of the city streets or the family communities either as each police officer was needed to control both the vehicle and people traffic at the annual musical concert. She exhaled with worry and continued to drive in excess of the speed limit. "I dread this. I do believe that I know the end result. But I can't vocalize the reason or the cause or the purpose."

Tarsal leaned over in-between the seat space with a stern face, staring at the open roadway. The ancient van blew out plumes of black tinted smoke from the tailpipe and also shimmied side to side with great speed. He exhaled with worry. "Look! You need to update us, Doctor Yaffle. We have been running around the county and talking with people like we were a set of police officers. And we are not. We are unemployed police officers. We need to understand what is happening here."

Yaffle continued to steer very fast and then sharply turned off the main roadway onto Walker Chapel, where the police station building stood in silence.

Pearlet stared out through the semi-cracked and dirty windshield, holding onto the edge of the captain chair with a worried brow. "At first, we thought that Wallis Wollen had murdered his own biological family members. But he didn't. Then, we thought a wild animal had murdered the three family units. But you have proven that the wild animal could not possibly have done that. Then we thought Wallis Wollen had received and trained a war dog to attack and kill his biological family. But you have proven that is not the case either. So, what is left?"

Felton Police Station location

Rear parking lot setting

Hot temperatures with bright sunshine

01:37 pm

Yaffle slammed down on the brake pads and as the van shimmied side to side from the rough command. She sharply turned into the police station building and drove towards the rear parking lot, stopping her van, exhaling with worry. She continued to sit inside the driver's seat and stared through the semi-cracked and dirty windshield at the lovely thicket of green tinted woods. "I am afraid to say right now. Let us get the bone skull on the dead dog inside the police station. I am going to place the Vitamin K liquid over one of the bloody fangs on the dog and see what it details."

Tarsal frowned. "That dog has been dead for five days. Can you still possibly see any type of blood result from a dead animal that long ago?"

Yaffle opened the door and slid out without closing the door, standing on top of the pavement, moving ahead with a stern face. Tarsal opened the door and slid out without closing her side door, standing on top of the pavement, following the back spine on Yaffle. Pearlet opened her door and exited the van without closing the door also, rushing down the van and stopped, standing beside Yaffle. Yaffle reached out and opened the rear doors, leaning down, dragging out the black tinted plastic bag and slung the bag over her collar bone. She back stepped from the rear compartment and spun around, swiftly moving ahead towards the black tinted rear door on the new police station.

Tarsal spun around and dashed ahead, standing at the rear door first, typing on the secret police code. The rear door softly clicked open and as the cold air hit the sweaty face on Tarsal. He reached up and wiped off his sweaty face, quickly moving inside and turned to face the secret door that led into the morgue storage room, opening the door, flipping on the overhead lights inside the cold and dull morgue storage room setting

At 01:43 pm, the flat floor in steel held a steel-coated naked table which held a clear plastic bag which displayed a dead, black tinted Giant Schnauzer that was slowly decomposing from the warmer air. The room also still contained three separate tables which were located in different corners of the room and displayed a row of five dead bodies that had not been released to the next of kin and then properly buried. The overhead lights burned down onto the bodies that slightly stink from the admitting heated air molecules coming through the open door.

Tarsal moved inside first with a worried brow, stopped and squatted down beside a make-shift chemistry set on the floor. Yaffle followed behind the back spine on Tarsal, stopped, and then squatted down beside the steel naked table using her portal chemistry set from her deep pockets on her overalls. Pearlet entered into the room and wrapped both of her arms around her upright body with coldness and worry, stopping and stood upright a few feet from Yaffle while watching the action on the floor in silence.

Yaffle un-wrapped the yellow tinted plastic bag and exposed the skull on the dog, reaching over, grabbing the Vitamin K liquid in silence. Everyone was curious and wanted this day to end with the truth. She leaned down and slowly squeezed down a few drops from the eyedropper tube onto the exposed bloody fang, watching with anticipation. The dried blood on the fang danced to live and then swiftly separated into two tiny clumps. One clump represented the dog blood type. The second clump represented the accumulation of human blood that had been piled into a small heap of twinkling red.

Yaffle sat back on her kneecaps and stared at the clumps of blood, exhaling with worry. "There! I knew it. The interior left ear skin is also tattooed in black hue 18080691P with the same tag number also. The fang on the German Shepherd holds two separate clumps of dog blood and human blood."

He squatted down and gasped in worry. "What does this mean?"

Yaffle continued to kneel and nodded with a stern face. "The German Shepherd attacked and then killed each family member inside the trailer home for some reason, just like the Giant Schnauzer killed each family member at the Wollen murder house. The mouth of each dog holds both human and dog blood. That is the only explanation. I could dismiss it, if the one dog held a mouth of human blood, but two dead dogs both contain human blood from their family members."

He nodded with a stern face. "How old was the dead dog? When did the dog arrive at the Jarvis home?"

Pearlet reached down and pulled out the folded papers out from her exterior pocket on her dress. She had carefully removed and separated all the registration papers for each dog that had been adopted from the dog adoption company, Love Them All. She read out loud the information. "The German Shepherd had been adopted six months..."

"The Giant Schnauzer breed had been adopted here in Felton six months ago also." He gasped in alarm. "The two dogs came from the same adoption place, Love Them All. What does this mean, Doctor Yaffle?"

Pearlet handed the papers down to Tarsal. He accepted them and scanned the information in silence. Pearlet moved ahead, exiting the morgue storage room with a stern face.

Inside the room, Yaffle pointed down at the head of the dead German Shepherd and then the body of the covered Giant Schnauzer breed with worry. "I have proven beyond a shadow of doubt here. Each bloody fang on each dead dog holds two clumps of separate blood types, one for a human and another for a dog. The only conclusion, the two dogs had been tagged with the same identification marker, such like, a devoted and heroic war dog. However, these two dead dogs are not a pair of war dogs, only a pair of fakes or phonies of evil canines. But each dog had been given to a nice red-blooded American family for free and then accepted into the American family with both love and honor. However, it is obvious to me as a trained veterinarian each dog had been trained to kill on some type of command."

He gasped in shock. "How do you know that the dog had killed on command? What type of command? A vocal command? A hand command? A radio wave command?"

Yaffle nodded. "A dog is man's best friend. A dog will only attack and kill if hungry or mistreated. I proved that theory when I showed you a caged dog at the Birmingham Mammal Shelter. That wild and aggressive caged dog can never go to a nice family. Each dog had lived a hard life on the street and fought for its food and its life. Maybe, one or two of the aggressive dogs could be trained to accept a new family unit of humans. But there is always the chance of harm to the family unit. And I also showed you a family dog there at the Doggie Homey Academy. Each one of these dogs had been accepted into an American family with love. Each dog had been treated with love, respect, care, and tender welfare. Each dog had been fed and warm. So, each dog loved and protected their family unit to the death. That type of dog would die for its family unit. And then I also showed you a military dog there at the Birmingham Military Dog Base. Each dog there is trained to attack the enemy, not the friend. Each dog there would protect their handler and any person the handler orders to be protected. Each dog there is loved, respected, care, and happy. And a war dog is sent home with its handler, if the handler lived through the battle time. Or the war dog is adopted into the home of the handler or another family home. Each war dog will protect the family unit at all costs. And I also showed you a killer dog that rests here inside the morgue room at the police station. Someone at the dog company which is named Love Them All has trained this dog to kill a human family unit for some reason. I don't understand why."

He looked down and quickly scanned the stack of papers with a stern face. "So, we will find out the why, the who, the what, the where, the how. Once, I have been restated as a police detective. My nagging questions: where was this dog born as a puppy? And where did this dog come from? What is the origin of the dog is not mentioned?" He looked up with puzzlement. "Well, we learned from Captain Vapierre there at the Birmingham Military Installation. A war puppy is born and then trained in a foreign country, not here in the USA. So, did the two dead dogs come from a foreign country into the USA?"

Yaffle frowned down at the head of the dead German Shepherd. "No. That is not possible. An animal is quarantined for six months inside a warehouse on either the east or west coast of America. If the animal is not foaming at the mouth or itching with bugs, the animal is released back to its family member. And most of the quarantined animals come from people who are living here in the USA. The two dogs came from somewhere here in the USA. We need to contact someone who has to figure this out. This puzzle is beyond my neurons."

He nodded with a smile. "I do believe that we have enough physical evidence and proof regarding a new death theory for each one of the three murdered family units right here. We need to go and drag Police Chief Zimb out from the musical concert right now."

The side door opened into the morgue storage room and revealed the bright light coming from the lounge room. Pearlet appeared with a frown and moved ahead, shifting a new stack of papers, gasping in worry. "O yes! I found it. I found it. I found this new piece of information. The burnt house which is located on 2404 Stouts Road had received for free a pet bulldog that came from the same dog company, Love Them All. However, the house was so burnt and damaged, I didn't piece it together until right now. So, there are three dogs coming from three different dead family units. This is not a coincidence here. A dog from the same dog adoption company, Love Them All, lived inside the murder house that killed the entire family unit, including the mother, the father, and the children."

Yaffle stood upright from the floor with a smile, "Excellent detective work, Pearlet! Now, we place a call to the Felton Animal Pickup Agency for them to come out here and find that missing pooch from the 2404 Stouts Court household. I really need to locate that third missing canine and see if it contains an ear tattoo with the same sequence of 18080691P also and two types of blood on its fangs."

Pearlet tossed both of her arms with the papers, wearing a worried brow to Yaffle. "That bulldog might have killed his family unit, before the house fire really started," she dropped both of her hands down onto her dress with concern.

Yaffle scooted backwards from the dead dog skull and stopped, standing against the solid black tinted side wall, whipping out her mobile telephone, dialing the familiar number. "Once we find that dog, we can test its fang and mouth and tongue also. The blood proteins inside the teeth and soft cheeks and even down into the stomach lining will prove my working death theory that dog is a killer dog also that killed it family unit too."

Tarsal stood in place and pointed towards the closed door with a smile. "We need to leave here and go and get Zimb. He must see all of this new physical doggie evidence. Then, I'll be employed back as a police office by supper time at five o'clock. I'm having supper with my parents. I don't have the heart to tell them that I am recently unemployed from the Felton Police Department." Pearlet nodded with a smile to Tarsal in silence with the thought of becoming reemployed also.

On the solid wall, Yaffle dropped down her mobile telephone back down into the pocket on her overalls and moved ahead with a sneer. "We have a new issue. Both the Felton and Gardenville Animal Pickup units are not working today, because of that stupid musical concert which is clearly bombarding the air waves with the lousy music songs there at the Gardenville auditorium."

Pearlet frowned at Tarsal. "And we can't go and ask numerous nosy questions either at the dog company which is named Love Them All. We are not employed police officers, Tarsal. We can't even knock on the front door of the company unless we wanna adopt a dog."

He snapped his fingers and nodded with a smile. "You're a genius, Pearlet. We go and knock on the front door at the Love Them All dog company, because we wanna fill out an application and then adopt a dog. We can observe and pick up tons of police information while we pose as a married couple that wanna adopt a dog..."

"Tarsal, that's a very good idea," Pearlet nodded with a frown. "However, if we're reinstated back as a pair of employed police detectives, tomorrow morning, then we would have blown our police cover at the dog adoption company. Or worser, we could get into major trouble as a non-police officer again. I believe we need to bring all of our new criminal information back to Police Chief Zimb and explain what we found out. If the Love Them All business company is training or getting a pack of fighting dogs and they are giving to each family unit without their knowledge, then the owners of the dog adoption company can be arrested and then prosecuted by the legal law. Then the dead family units will be revenged and hopefully compensated with money, not hate."

"All right! You're correct, future police detective Pearlet. I just wanna solve this triple murder case, before it goes dead cold." Tarsal frowned.

Yaffle dropped her mobile telephone back down into the pocket of her blue jeans, moving ahead, stopping with a worried brow in front of Tarsal and Pearlet. "And the Felton and Gardenville Animal Pickup members are located at the musical concert today. The office is closed until four pm this afternoon. The office will reopen tomorrow morning at seven o'clock like normal. I possess a set of dog-catching gear inside my personal van. And I'm qualified to capture any type of dog, wild or dangerous or docile. However, I need a few more bodies to rush the running dog into my armor-covered body and two gloved hands. And I heard Pearlet. She is correct. You cannot go around and pretend to be a police officer, when you are not. You will never work in the police field again," she clapped with a smile. "So, you can come and assist me with the capture of that runaway bulldog that used to belong to the dead Gubnat family unit. We need to find and capture their vicious runaway bulldog immediately, before it harms someone else. If that dog did come from the Love Them All dog company, then that is a piece of excellent hard physical evidence for Police Chief Zimb. Then Zimb can arrest the owner of the Love Them All company and also call in the FBI agency and any other federal government agency to assist with this ring of illegal fighting dogs," Yaffle slapped her forehead with a nod, tossing both of her arms in the air. "That's it. I cannot believe that I missed this. The answer was staring me in the face. These three dogs have come from one of the illegal fighting rings that have invaded the depths in Birmingham. The owner of the pack of killer dogs probably went into jail or got killed, so the guardian of the three dogs sold the set of vicious beasts to the nice dog adoption agency, Love Them All. I can't believe that a legal business company had received a business license here in the tiny town of Felton to distribute out a fighting dog to a nice family unit. I feel so bad now for each dead person. If that fighting dog had been off its doggie medication or its doggie mental mind, then that vicious fighting dog had enjoyed ripping apart each body part like the human was its live and captured canine prey. Let's get going, ya'll!" She spun around with a stern face and moved ahead towards the side door.

Pearlet spun around with a worried brow from the rows of open boxes and the tables of dead people, following the back spine on Yaffle, exhaling with nervousness and worry. They had to locate that wild bulldog and then contain the mammal, before the canine killed another citizen. "I can help. Do I use my personal hand gun, here, Doctor Yaffle? I never leave home without it."

Yaffle moved ahead with a stern face. "Your personal hand gun is the last resource here. I have a tranquilizer gun for a fleeing African elephant inside my van. I'll shoot the firing needle into the wild bulldog first and then see if I can stop it that way. If not, you can use your handgun, Pearlet. But don't shoot at the head, kill it in the chest. We need to see if the left ear skin is also tattooed with the same set of digits that match the other two dead dogs," she exited the morgue storage room through the open side door.

"Yes ma'am!" Pearlet exited through the side door also inside the morgue storage room. The side door led into the new room which was also freezing cold temperatures with a side wall of hidden freezers that contained a set of dead wild animals and two dogs.

Inside the freezer storage room, the rear door was open, after Tarsal entered the secret police code. Inside the morgue storage room, "Yes ma'am!" Tarsal spun around with a stern face from the rows of open cardboard boxes and the tables of dead people, slowly moving ahead, following the back spine on Pearlet. He reached over and slapped the wall switch. The lights powered down reforming the electronic geographical map over each table of five dead bodies. Then a tiny lavender dot blinked at the top on the electronic map.

His eyeball caught the flash of color and as Tarsal stopped with a gasp near the open archway. He spun around with a gasp and studied a tiny lavender dot near the top of the electronic map. "What's that? I don't know," he swiftly dashed across the room avoiding each table with five dead people, swiftly climbing the staircase and raced across the metal floor. He stopped and stood in front of the computer console system, staring down at the control panel with a smile. The computer monitor displayed the words: Complete.

He smiled. "O yeah! I tapped the PISS computer into finding a common link between the three murdered families," he laughed. "I beat you to the punch line, computer. Are you pissed off at me now?" He laughed again and reached down, pressing the button. The computer sounded with a set of loud beeps while accessing the object.

Outside the police building, in the parking lot, the car horn sounded with a terrible loud bong of noise.

Inside the morgue storage unit on the upper level, in front of the computer console, Tarsal continued to stare with a sour frown down at the computer screen. The computer was trying to find the object. "Yaffle, I'm coming. Well, you're slow and I'm late, so PISS off, computer," he back stepped and turned to face the side avenue with a laugh, dashing back down the metal floor, creating a terrible noise. He leaped down part of the steel staircase and then landed on top of the steel floor, turning to see the blinking lavender dot, dashing towards the open side door. The computer was still accessing the common link between the three murdered families and then would substitute the lavender dot with the image. He exhaled with frustration, "I don't have time right here to wait and watch. I'll be back, computer," he exited the morgue storage unit and turned, running through the freezer room and then turned with a smile seeing the orange tinted rusty van.

Inside the morgue storage room, the computer accessed the common link object and then replaced each blinking lavender dot with a colorful digital picture. The electronic colorful picture displayed numerous rows of musicians at the musical concert, last year.

Ten-year-old student Javier had attended Gardenville Elementary School sitting on the trumpet row. Nine-year-old student Garvey had attended Felton Elementary School, sitting on the saxophone row. Eight-year-old student Willet had attended the private Felton Academy church school environment, sitting at the piano. Each student had sat and smiled at the school photographer for the concert band picture.

At 01:47 pm among the heated temperatures on a blistering day of summer in the month of June, each bird sung in pretty melody. Each dog howled out loud coming from a residential house. A batch of white clouds drifted low over the town of Felton. The grove of trees rustled out of tune with each bird song. The ancient orange tinted van continued to park near the open rear door at the police station, blowing out black tinted smoke from the exhaust pipes. Yaffle continued to blow the car horn signaling Tarsal to return to the van. Tarsal raced out the police building and slapped the door shut, racing ahead with a grunt.

Yaffle sat inside the driver's seat with the engine running, shouting out loud through the dropped window, "Get into the van, Tarsal! We are running out of time here." Tarsal jumped from the ground and leaped into the air, moving through the open door and landed on top of the dirty bench seat with a laugh. Yaffle pressed the gasoline pedal and rolled the van towards the street, entering the smooth pavement, speeding down an empty country road without a single car. Tarsal slid back into the rare bench seat and reached over, slamming the side door shut with a laugh.

Inside the van, Pearlet sat inside the front passenger seat without the safety belt, turning to scan the roadway and the landscape, "Geez! No one is here. I mean. The roadway is empty of trucks, cars, and sedans. The yards are empty of playing children too."

Yaffle drove over the speed limit steering down the curvy roadside with a smile. "Everyone is attending that musical concert, which is always presented on the last day of the school session. This is a wonderful moment for us. If everyone is there at the Gardenville auditorium, then that runaway dog will be hunting around for fresh food or grounded birds. We should be able to see the dog easily for a quick capture. I promise here. Ya'll be very happy in a few more minutes."

"Where is the dog located, Yaffle?" Tarsal wiggled side to side and reached down, pulling out his personal hand gun, where he did not leave his house or his body without the weapon. He double checked the magazine with the bullets, which was full and ready to fire. He placed the hand gun back down into the deep pocket on his cargo pants.

Yaffle continued to drive wildly with a smile. "That dog should be roaming around the death house on Stouts Court. The wild dog is probably hungry and afraid. A dog will stay in the local environment, if it finds either dead or fresh food source."

Pearlet frowned. "But the dog ran away from its home after it murdered it family members. I was there at that death house on 2404 Stouts Court. I didn't see any evidence of a dog and I didn't see a dog or a cat or a squirrel outside in the rear of the house. Why would the dog stick around there after killing its family unit? That trained fighting dog had completed its mission, sorta."

Yaffle turned off the main road and sped down the new street with a stern face, "Because, no one has dared to challenge its doggie territory, yet. That Bulldog breed has been killing the local birds and the squirrels for fun, because we would have heard about another murdered family unit with a mother, a father and their children."

Pearlet held the edge on the captain chair, wearing a worried brow. "So, do you believe that the fighting dog is only trained to kill one family unit?"

Yaffle slammed down onto the brake pads and then sharply turned into the neighbor, gunning the gasoline pedal with speed. "That's a tough question, Pearlet. A hungry dog will kill a smaller animal or dig into a smelly trashcan to find food. A stray and hungry dog will rarely attack a human as a piece of warm prey. However, a fighting or attack dog is only trained to attack the prey, not eat the prey. So, I would guess here based on all of the known information that the fighting dog is running around the familiar family neighborhood, seeking its food, ignoring the strangers, at the moment, until it gets a full tummy. Then the fighting dog will be brutal and ferocious."

In the rear bench seat, Tarsal nodded with a smile. "That's an excellent explanation, Yaffle."

2404 Stouts Court location

Vanilla colored driveway setting

01:51 pm

Hot temperatures with bright sunshine

The van stopped with a squeaky jolt and parked on top of the rough, vanilla colored hard concrete driveway at 2404 Stouts Court. Each door opened without closing. Yaffle moved ahead first towards the rear back doors on her work van, saying with a stern face. "I have a set of protection suits in the back. We need to don and dress for our body protection, before we start scouting out for that vicious and wild fighting dog. Don't worry! I'm a steady aim with the tranquilizer gun also."

Tarsal slid down and stood on top of the smooth driveway, scanning the new landscape, like a police officer, saying with a smile. "Yeah, I'm a steady aim, also," laughing.

Pearlet slid down from the seat and moved ahead, surveying the familiar landscape, singing in tune with the loud and familiar children's musical song. "Mary had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb..."

At the Gardenville Auditorium, the tall and red bricked three-story building displayed a mounted outside audio speaker on each wall corner for fun to hear the inside musical song and for annoyance to the surrounding neighbors. The last musical note on the familiar nursery song sounded with a terrible loud screech.

On top of the driveway beside the open door, Tarsal slapped both of his hands over both of his eardrums, saying with a sour frown. "What was that? Did the train wreck out there on the choo-choo tracks?" he dropped both hands and turned with a puzzled brow to face the eastern side of the lawn, where the train tracks rested.

Yaffle continued ahead with a sour frown down the side of van and then turned into the rear bumper, stopping and stood in front of the closed rear doors. She reached out and opened the double doors, hearing the metal pain of each rusty bolt. She leaned inside and dragged out an individual piece of equipment, dropping onto the ground.

Pearlet turned and frowned down at the roadway. "Once you leave Stouts Court, you drive onto Stouts Road here in Felton. But the same roadway turns into Main Street there within the city limits of Gardenville. The two small towns are right next to each other. We are about one mile south from the grand Gardenville auditorium. That's why we can hear the lovely music blasting throughout the air waves and all the way into heaven."

Tarsal moved ahead with a laugh and stopped, standing at the rear bumper, watching Yaffle. "What lovely music? Is the concert band comprised of four-year-old musicians playing that musical non-merry tune?"

Pearlet moved ahead with a sour frown and stopped on the opposite side of the rear bumper, staring at Tarsal. "That's not a funny statement, Tarsal. Don't you remember? On the last day of school session, each school concert band from Felton, Gardenville, and all the private schools come together and play numerous familiar and unfamiliar songs for fun and joy and family entertainment before the summertime session."

Tarsal laughed. "That version of Mary and her little lamb is a new unfamiliar tone going into my eardrums."

Pearlet flipped her hand and frowned at Tarsal. "You're not a music critic. The younger generation of kids and teens enjoy remixing the old song tunes with some really strange musical notes. That must be a new one that I'm not familiar with, either."

Tarsal smiled. "O! The PISS computer actually found out a common link between the three murdered family units. I told you that computer is really fun to piss around with," laughing.

Pearlet frowned. "Stop it, Tarsal! We beat the computer and found the common link, a dog adoption company that gives away a free fighting dog for fun. The human is still faster than the computer. I wanna find that fighting dog alive and present the dog to Zimb, so I can become a police officer again. Would or could your lawyer-buddy help me with my personal lawsuit coming from Wallis Wollen?"

Tarsal looked down at the mess of pale blue tinted protection suits with a smile. "Yeah, he'll help the both of us. We capture this dog. Then we'll go and visit him this afternoon."

Inside the rear compartment, Yaffle leaned over and grabbed, dragging the last protection suit out from the metal floor, dropping it onto the concrete driveway and stood upright with a smile. "Now, we get dressed and we find our little naughty friend."

The forest of trees rustled. Tarsal spun around from the rear bumper on the van with a gasp and stared into the grove of trees. "What was that?"

Pearlet spun around from the opposite side of van with a gasp and stared into a different grove of thick trees. "I clearly hear a loud tone of dog growls also."

Yaffle looked up from the protection gear and slowly eyeballed the thick grove of trees. "That's the fighting dog that killed the Gubnat family unit here at its old murder house. The bulldog is still hiding somewhere within the grove of trees," she leaned over into the rear compartment and grabbed the tranquilizer gun, slowly lifting the weapon in the air, moving the butt of the gun towards her chest. "Everyone, stand still, right now! I got my tranquilizer gun." The thick rows of low-lying green tinted plant and fruit bushes rustled and as a loud tone of dog growls echoed in the air.

A black and brown Bulldog Terrier breed dog slowly moved out from the low bushes then stopped and finally stood upright on top of the manicured yard, staring at the two humans. Red liquid slowly dripped down from its open mouth while growling at the two new strangers in front of the orange tinted van, on top of the familiar concrete driveway.

Tarsal frowned at the dog. "What's that dripping out from its open mouth, Yaffle?"

Yaffle slowly turned to face the bulldog and lifted the gun in the air, slowly leaning her skull down, staring through the single eyepiece. "The dog just killed and ate a dead squirrel. I told you. The nasty little critter has been roaming around its own neighborhood, killing off the small and innocent wildlife animals. Well, I'll take care of it now and here. Don't worry! I got it in my sights now."

The same low-lying row of green tinted bushes in front of the same grove of trees rustled. A long row of numerous dogs appearing in various breeds including heights, weights, colors, and fur textures slowly emerged out from the forest then stopped, standing in a semi-crooked row in-between the Gubnat Bulldog Terrier breed sharing the manicured back yard of the Gubnat house. Each dog lowered its furry bone skull with a loud growling sound, dripping red liquid droplets from its open mouth and exposed its set of red tinted fangs at Yaffle, Tarsal, and Pearlet.

Next to the rear bumper, Tarsal gasped in shock. "What is this? I see a line of growling and hungry dogs. Are these dogs all a set of stray animals that roam around here in Felton? Geez! We gotta go down to the auditorium and break up the lovely musical concert and find the animal control people right now. They need to come out here and round up all of these stray dogs, before someone gets hurt like me," he slapped his chest with loud laughter.

On the opposite side of the rear bumper, a few feet away from both Yaffle and Tarsal Pearlet continued to stare across the roadway into a patch of thick forest with puzzlement, in silence.

The rows of low-lying dark green tinted plant and fruit bushes, in front of a grove of tall shade trees rustled with soft noise. Then a long semi-crook row of dogs in various breeds including heights, weights, colors, and fur textures slowly emerged out from the forest and then stopped, standing on top of the manicured front and side yard of the Gubnat house. Each dog lowered its bone skull with a loud growling sound, dripping red liquid droplets down from its open mouth and exposed its set of red tinted fangs only at Pearlet.

Pearlet gasped in horror at the uncomfortable sight of dogs without their owners, sharing the information with Yaffle and Tarsal, without moving her hand. "There is line of stray dogs over here near me across the roadway that has emerged out from the thick forest standing on top of the Gubnat front and side yard. If this line of stray dogs has been running around here, then they would come from the interior streets and other homes within the city of Felton. Does that mean that each stray dog has lived here in Felton, without an owner, all alone and lonely? However, the line of dogs does not appear to be a stray animal to me. All of the dogs are wearing a collar..."

At the Gardenville auditorium building, each one of twenty-four outside mounted communication speakers loudly blasted out the same children's nursery song through the quiet air waves with the same musical tune: Mary took the lamb to school one day. Its fleece was white as snow.

Then the last musical note from the familiar song sounded with a harsh terrible screech. The two line of numerous dogs swiftly raced ahead from the forest land displaying an open mouth of red tinted fangs while growling warning noise from the impending attack on the standing humans consisting of Yaffle, Tarsal, and Pearlet.

In front of the parked van, Tarsal swiftly back stepped with a gasp then hit the solid side wall panel of rusty metal on the vehicle in fear, quickly reaching down, pulling out his personal hand gun and shot in panic mode. He missed each advancing dog but continued to fire each bullet at the advancing line of attacking dogs.

On the opposite side of the van, Pearlet swiftly back stepped with a gasp without hitting the metal panel on the vehicle from a running line of growling dogs then reached down, locating her personal hand gun inside her handbag, pulling out the weapon with a sneer. She fired into the line of attacking dogs but missed with her shaky hand and as her mental mind experienced surprise, fear, and fright.

Yaffle slowly moved ahead from the van then stopped in the manicured yard, aiming the tranquilizer gun at the Gubnat bulldog, who was the leader for the pack of stray dogs. If you remove the lead canine, then the pack of wild dogs will be leaderless, turning tail, running away from the aggressive prey.

At the Gardenville auditorium building, each outside communication speaker clearly and loudly blasted out the same musical nursery song coming from all the school musicians from each concert band, floating through the quiet air waves: Mary had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb...

Then the last musical note from the familiar song sounded with a harsh terrible screech. The two independent lines of dogs continued to advance ahead then swiftly turned away the three stationary humans consisting of Tarsal, Yaffle, and Pearlet, racing across Gubnat manicured yard, heading in a northern direction and galloped towards the city of Gardendale.

In front of the van metal panel, Pearlet stopped shooting her hand gun and then spun around with a gasp, staring at each upright tail on every escaping dog, shouting out to her two friends with a puzzled brow. "What happened? What's going on here? Why did these two independent rows of stray dogs turn away from us?" Yaffle stood in place then dropped the tranquilizer gun barrel down towards the ground, gasping in shock, turning to face each upright doggie tail on every escaping dog, in stunned silence.

At the Gardenville auditorium building, each outside communication speaker continued to loudly blast out the same musical song through the quiet air waves in perfect harmony and then produced the last musical note with a terrible screeching off-key sound.

Inside the manicured Gubnat yard, Yaffle continued to stand in place and gasped in alarm after hearing the weird musical note, pointing with her free hand at the roadway on Stouts Court. "That is some that strange musical song. That weird last musical note on that familiar nursery song was played really wrong and way off-key from the natural sweet nursery song. Then, the two independent rows of dogs appeared within our eyesight. Then, that same weird musical note was played wrong for a second time. Then two independent rows of dogs raced away and out from eyesight."

Tarsal continued to stand in place and calmed his racing heart, turning to stare at the roadway and row of houses, watching each dog tail which disappeared into the forest shadows, in shocking silence.

On the opposite side of the van, Pearlet dashed ahead into the manicured yard then stopped, squatting down, picking up her handbag that contained all the extra bullets from her empty hand gun, sharing her thoughts with her two friends. "I don't understand, all of this." She slowly picked out each loose bullet from the bottom within her handbag. "The two independent rows of dogs are running towards the city of Gardenville, towards the auditorium building to the weird music. Is that your working theory, Yaffle? The weird playing musical note is coming directly from the Gardenville auditorium building, where the finally musical song included all of the elementary, middle school, and high school musician playing the tune to their proud parents and guardians. So, the row of dogs is heading towards that auditorium with that strange music for...for some reason..."

At the Gardenville auditorium building, each outside communication speaker blasted out the same nursery song through the quiet air waves: Mary had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb...

Then the last musical note from the familiar song sounded with a harsh terrible screech.

The musical song continued with a lovely harmony of musical notes: Mary took the lamb to school. Its fleece was white as snow.

Then the last musical note from the familiar song sounded with a harsh terrible screech.

On top of the Gubnat's manicured yard, in front of her parked ugly rusty van, Yaffle heard the same familiar soft sound again then turned seeing the same line of green tinted forest with a new canine dog, quickly swinging up her tranquilizer gun at the growling canine. She slowly moved ahead towards the dog for a better kill shot then stopped, aiming the cold barrel of the gun at her target. Standing in front of the row of tall trees and short bushes, the black and brown tinted Rottweiler dog breed wore a pink tinted dog collar then dashed ahead with its open mouth displaying its fangs with a mysterious red liquid, growling in fury, leaping up from the ground and sailed through the air towards Yaffle. The needle dart from her tranquilizer gun missed the air-borne dog then landed down into the grass in an upright pose.

The flying thick body on the dog continued to twist sideways through the air current then slammed its front leg onto the exposed side cheekbone on Yaffle. The brutal impact from the dog's body broke Yaffle's neck muscles, tilting her human skull sideways off the collar bones. The tranquilizer gun dropped from both of her cupped hands landing down at her two booted foot. Then her upright body tumbled sideways, settling down on top of the manicured grass lawn. Yaffle was dead and as her spirit ascended into heaven.

In front of the van, Tarsal turned with a gasp and stared down at the grounded dead body of Yaffle and the airborne Rottweiler, yelling out loud, firing his hand gun at the flying dog. "No! No! No!" The dog landed down on the ground without injury then swiftly raced ahead towards Tarsal, growling with an open mouth of red tinted blood proteins covering each fang and tooth, nicely jerking its agile doggie body sideways from each fired bullet. Tarsal kicked out his leg at the advancing dog then turned to aim his hot barrel at the furry bone skull on the vicious mammal.

The dog's mouth reached out sideways then grabbed onto the outstretched leg on Tarsal, jerking the upright body of Tarsal rapidly downwards from the air current, landing hard on top of concrete driveway, Tarsal landed down on his back spine, hitting his rear bone skull on the concrete surface, passing out from the violent head injury while blooding out all of his blood proteins over the smooth vanilla colored surface. The dog did not release the human leg and continued to drag an unconscious Tarsal over Gubnat's rough driveway, pulling out the human leg joint, spitting out the dead human limb. Tarsal slowly bleed to death in a matter of seconds while screaming in pain on top of the driveway.

The same dog stood on top of the bloody driveway suffer a few inches from a dying Tarsal and shook off all of the human tissues and blood proteins from its dirty mouth, then quickly raced away from a screaming Tarsal, dashing around the rear bumper of the ancient van, heading directly towards Pearlet.

On top of the grassy lawn, Pearlet heard the terrible girly screams coming from a dying Tarsal and the nasty loud growls from the vicious canine, ducking sideways from the attacking dog, sliding backwards on her spine over the raw grass blades and lifted her shooting hand, aiming at the running dog and then fired. The single bullet missed the dog.

The Rottweiler opened its jawline wide then reached out, clamping down onto her raised human arm, switching its body motion and then violently jerked backwards. The shooting arm on Pearlet disconnected from her shoulder joint and as she screamed in agonizing pain. The dog halted on top of the bloody grass blades then mouth spat out the dead human limb, lowering its head, growling a final warning to a screaming Pearlet and then raced ahead. The dog clamped its fangs down into her screaming face and then ripped off one of her eyebrows and eyeballs then halted, turning to spit out the human eyeball. Pearlet dropped backwards on her back spine sounding with shallow breaths of fresh air molecules without speaking but slowly dying from the vicious canine attack on her defenseless body.

At 02:33 pm, among the heated temperatures of a beautiful summer day, in the city of Felton, the same dog returned back with another growl then reached down, clamping its fangs down into her exposed chest cavity. The dog broke through her protective human rib cage bones then ripped out her pumping heart organ, chewing the warm item in two doggie bites then swallowed the organ whole burping out loud from the foreign food treat. Then the Rottweiler dog breed spun around to face the city of Gardenville while continuing to hear the children's nursey musical song then swiftly raced ahead down an empty city street, trying to catch the two rows vicious growling killer canines.
Seven hours ahead of the United States of America

07:01 p.m. (early evening)

Country of Syrian

(7220 miles west from city of Felton, Alabama, USA)

Hot temperatures with ten percent overcast

14 hours: 14 minutes of sunlight

Sunrise 07:30 a.m.

Sunset 07:53 p.m.

Five miles west from the city of Damascus, the topography elevation is 1,071 feet in elevation from sea level. On top of that land elevation, inside a grassy pod within a nicely manicured yard of green tinted grass, surrounding the rough harsh desert sands, one elite residence stood alone owned by one prominent citizen. A tall, slender, bearded, dark-skinned, mature adult male wore a set of long golden tinted robes and a red colored headscarf, slowly strolling down an interior but empty hallway that contained numerous glass windows which displayed the rear yard of colorful garden flowers.

Another tall, slender, dark skinned male wore a long white slightly dirty robe and a white colored headscarf and halted, sliding down on each kneecap over the polished floor in front of his leader, bowing his clean-shaven chin down into his chest, softly saying. "My lord, the warriors are ready for your personal inspection. I do believe that you will be very pleased."

The leader stopped and frowned down at the headscarf on his servant. "I decide if I am very pleased. Go! Get away from me!" He didn't bother to lift a hand for the dismissal. The folded body on the servant scooted sideways away from the footpath of his leader then bumped into the side wall, allowing the leader down the empty hallway.

The lonely male continued ahead and exited through an open archway, slowing climbing up a set of polished white colored limestone steps, landing on top of a raised platform that was surrounded by a short wall. The short wall of white stone overlooked his grand estate that contained a flat manicured yard of green tinted grass. He exhaled with frustration and surveyed the pale blue sky, rolling clouds and then finally the manicured yard. "Waleed, I realize that I have offered my home for your fun experiment."

Waleed stood in front of the small wall with a smile and stared down at the manicured green tinted lawn. "My fun experiment is proceeding very well. Watch my group of latest warriors!"

The male frowned. "My fertile and clean yard contains rows and rows of nasty stray dogs. Where did each one of these dogs come from, Waleed?"

Waleed smirked. "I sent a warrior team into the country of China. These short ugly and dead natives like to beat a dog to death, before they eat the shredded meat on the poor tormented then dead mammal. I personally have saved over three million dogs and I am counting forward."

"And why have you saved the smelly animal, for what purpose?"

Waleed smiled. "You have stayed too long at your private vacation home, my lord." Waleed laughed out loud and pointed down at the yard. "I have divided your lush green tinted lawn into four sections. Each section will serve a purpose, but the purpose will be more effective with a visual and vocal demonstration, sire. In the first section of your manicured lawn, there are six rows of dogs. Each row contains fifty dogs that various in breed, color, and texture, my lord."

He exhaled with annoyance. "Did you really save these dogs from the greedy Chinese men and women?"

Waleed nodded with a grin down at the rows of dogs. "Yes, I did. I find that the gang of dog rings within the country of Chinese provides a wealth of canine supplies, which nicely fits our needs and wants and desires, my lord. And I want to show you, what I am about to do with each rescued dog coming from the country of China. Each dog has been bathed and is free of illness and trained by my group of personal canine handlers. Each dog sits and stares at the line of new victims."

The male frowned at the line of victims. "Yes. I see three jagged rows of human adult females. Who are all of these human females? Why does each female show off a pair of naked arms and legs, within my eyesight, Waleed?"

Waleed laughed. "Some of the females are traitors. Some of the females are guests. Some of the females are enemies. Some of the females are friends. Some of the females represent 'a fake someone' that I do not like but will take deal with, in a few more minutes. Each female is dressed as a western mature female, which is part of my visual demonstration, my lord. Each lower body on the female human is securely tied around a yellow colored short counter, which is located behind her back spine. Each female tongue has been cut out. And each pair of female legs has been sewed together. I do despair at set of the loud screams of torment within my delicate eardrums," he exhaled with annoyance. "Each row of dogs is staggered but sits parallel to one of tied up females. Currently, each dog sits patiently on top of the manicured grass while admiring its selected female. Watch this, my lord!" He lifted his finger in the air producing the silent signal to his working staff members.

On the opposite side of the manicured lawn, a single elevated platform had been erected a few feet above the lawn wall, sticking out like a tree limb in distress. On top of the flat vanilla colored concrete slab, a grand musical organ in shiny black hue stood sideways gleaning with numerous short and tall stacks of silver tinted stacks that emitted a musical sound. On top of a black tinted bench seat, a folded employed male wore a long white tinted robe and a matching white headscarf, posing both of his cupped hands over the musical keyboard. The man stared at Waleed for the silent signal. When Waleed lifted his finger, the organist looked down and started playing a familiar musical song.

The musical notes corresponded to the child's nursery words: Mary had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb...

The owner of the residence frowned at the musical song. "What is this? The organist is playing a nursery rhyme. Every child knows that nursery rhyme..."

"Every child in the USA does," Waleed smiled. "I would venture a guess here, not every child in each country knows the words to the lovely child's nursery rhyme. Yes, it is a simple nursery rhythm. Watch very closely, my lord!"

The musical notes sweetly produced a nice harmony and corresponded to the rest of the nursery words: Mary had a little lamb. Its fleece was white as snow.

Then the last musical note rang out with an off-key violent high-pitched musical tone echoing throughout the air waves.

The owner of the residence reached up and then covered both of his two eardrums, wearing a sour frown at the wrong musical note on the lovely nursey rhyme song.

Each dog swiftly stood upright from the grass blades then rushed ahead, lowering its furry bone skull, growling in the attack mode and leaped up in the air, sailing at its target. Each dog hit the upper chest on every live female as each pair of untied naked female arms flung up in the air producing numerous blood proteins through the air waves. Each upright female could not scream out loud in pain or move their tied female body but endured both the pain and horror from the vicious animal attack. Then the back spine on each female fell backwards and as each human hairy rear skull slammed against the hard, counter surface, knocking the female unconscious, without landing down on top of the hard, concrete surface. Each dog fell down through the air and landed on top of the grass blades, reaching down, biting into the female waistline at the side on the upright body, chewing through her bone and flesh.

Each dog continued to chew through the tender flesh and tender bone at the female waistline, until the meat had separated from the bone. Then the female upper body bounced sideways and separated from the lower female body, landing down on top of the manicured yard alone and as a pair of naked legs stood upright on top of the grass, both alone and scary.

Each dog stopped the chewing then dropped down on top of the grass, standing upright in a thick pond of human red tinted blood proteins, wearing a set of dog fangs and teeth in nasty red hue staring down at the upper fallen body.

On top of the platform, Waleed smiled at the completed vocal and visual demonstration. "What do you think, my lord?"

The owner nodded with a grin. "I am very impressed with your group of dogs. Is that the only trick that your dogs have learned on my lawn and with my money?"

"No, my lord!" Waleed smiled and lifted his second finger next to the first finger.

On top of a second slab in exposed yellow tinted hard concrete, a second black tinted grand organ gleamed among the bright sunshine that contained a second musician on top of a bench seat, a male employee in a long white robe and a matching headscarf. The second slab of concrete had been built in front of a second portion of manicured green tined lawn. On top of the second slab, an upright male worker lifted up and played a whistle that didn't produce any musical sound. Each bloody covered dog looked up from the flat counter surface and turned to face the second section that contained more manicured green tinted grass. Each dog leaped off the counter surface and raced across the grass, jumping over the short wall, galloping over the nicely manicured lawn. Each dog had been trained to stop and sit in a specific position over the lawn.

On top of the platform at the elite residence, Waleed dropped the hand then extended an arm to the next section on the yard. "My lord, please move with me to the next section of your lawn," laughing. The owner frowned and turned, moving ahead with his employee in silence. Waleed stopped with a grin and stood in front of the second portion of the manicured green tinted lawn along with the owner. Each dog sat patiently with a bloody mouth. Some of the dogs were licking off the blood.

Waleed pointed down at the new scene with a smile. "This is the second guarded portion of your neatly manicured lawn. At the end of the yard, near the slab, three staggered rows of high chairs contain a wiggling live infant."

The owner gasped in shock. "I see a high chair and a baby inside the high chair. Are my eyes playing tricks on me within the heated sunlight? Is that correct?"

"Yes, each blue or pink tinted high chair contains a live baby. Each crying baby came from an enemy or an un-invited guest or someplace else, but here. Each crying and wiggling baby exhibits varied skin and hair coloring. This is the second phase of my experiment with each rescued dog. Watch closely, my lord!"

The owner smiled. "My eyes are watching, and my mouth is drooling. I do believe that I understand the next step for the rescued dog. But, please, proceed!"

When Waleed lifted his finger, the organist started playing at the same musical song.

The musical notes corresponded to the nursery words: Mary had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb...

The owner of the residence smiled at the new activity, without covering his two eardrums again from the upcoming terrible off-key musical note.

The organist continued to nicely play the scale of musical notes which corresponded to the rest of the nursery words: Its fleece was white as snow.

Then the last musical note rang out with an off-key violent high-pitched musical tone throughout the quiet air waves. Each dog swiftly stood upright on its hind legs on top of the manicured grass then rushed ahead, lowering its furry bone skull, growling in the attack mode and then leaped in the air. Each open dog mouth exposed a set of bloody fangs hit the tender neckline on each baby, neatly slicing through the baby's delicate flesh and tiny human bones tied down inside the high chair. The baby skull easily decapitated from the wiggling infant's body then soared through the air, landing behind the baby's high chair. Each dog continued to coast through the air waves, dropping down, landing on top of the grass blades, panting with the excursion. Each dog sat on top of the grass or smelled the flowers.

On top of the platform, Waleed lifted up his second finger next to the first one with a smile. "What do you think, my lord?"

On top of a third slab of exposed yellow tinted concrete, a third black tinted grand organ gleamed among the bright sunshine that contained an upright male worker on top of a bench seat, a long white robe and a matching headscarf. The second slab of concrete had been built in front of a second portion of manicured green tined lawn. On top of the same slab, the male lifted up and played a whistle that didn't produce a musical sound. Each bloody covered dog looked up from the grass turned to face a short wall that hid an additional manicured green tinted grass. Each dog raced across the grass, jumping over the short wall, galloping over the nicely manicured lawn. Each dog had been trained to stop and sit in a specific position over the lawn.

On top of the patio surface, the owner continued to stand and clapped with a smile at the demonstration. "I am very, very impressed. This is an excellent demonstration."

Waleed nodded with a grin. "Thank you, my lord! However, I am not finished here. I have another activity for show. Let us move over to the third section on your manicured lawn," he turned with a laugh and strolled ahead on top of the patio surface, stopping and stood in front of the short wall, staring down into staggered rows of dogs.

On the opposite end of the manicured green tinted yard, three staggered rows of adult humans had been tied onto an upright pole wearing a pair of walking shorts, a pair of flip-flops, and a short-sleeved shirt.

Waleed pointed down at the line of humans. "If you have guessed, then I will tattle tale here. The staggered lines of tied male humans are rows of enemies and are dressed like a western person, exposing each pair of naked legs and naked arms to the sunlight. This is my last demonstration. I hope you are most pleased, my lord."

The owner smiled down at the line of tied humans. "I have very pleased and also eager to see the next activity."

When Waleed lifted his finger, the organist started playing a musical tone.

The musical notes corresponded to the nursery words: Mary had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb...

The owner of the residence smiled at the new activity without covering his eardrums again from the upcoming terrible off-key musical note.

The organist continued to play the scale of musical notes which corresponded to the rest of the nursery words: Its fleece was white as snow.

The last musical note rang out with an off-key violent high-pitched musical tone throughout the air waves. Each dog swiftly stood then rushed ahead while lowering its furry bone skull, growling in the attack mode and then leaped in the air with an open mouth wide and exposed the blood-stained fangs and teeth, hitting the human face on each unnamed male, chewing off each pair of eyeballs, the line of bushy eyebrows, the nose bridge, and open mouth lips, exposing a human skeleton frame.

Each dog dropped back down through the air waves then landed on top of the bloody grass, mouth spitting out each human organ, standing upright from the grass and posed down on its two hind legs. Each dog jumped in the air or leaned over slicing a set of sharp bloody fangs into the unprotected chest cavity on each tied human male, ripping through the human flesh and bone, attacking each pumping heart organ. Each dog sliced into the organ then grabbed, eating the organ in two bites, dropping back down on top of the bloody grass blades, licking the bloody off its body. Some of the smaller dog breeds were still consuming the human's heart organ more slowly with a set of smaller teeth and fangs but enjoying the delicious food treat.

On top of the residential platform, the owner clapped with a smile at the vile demonstration, "Excellent, display! Excellent, Waleed! I am very, very pleased. How were you able to do this?"

Waleed lifted his second finger next to his first finger. "Thank you, my lord! This is a new doggie training technique that is exhibited all over the world and inside the United States of America. It is called a Musical Doggie Dance. A segment of musical notes teaches the dog to stop its bad doggie behavior, such like, chewing on shoes or ripping up the furniture, which really does work. However, I have taught each one of my dogs a new nasty evil doggie behavior, using the familiar nursery musical tune from the musical song, entitled Mary Had a Little Lamb instead."

On top of a third concrete slab, a third unnamed male worker stood played his whistle instrument, where the non-musical sound was only heard by the pack of dogs. Each dog looked up then turned to face a new short concrete wall, racing ahead and then leaped over the wall ledge, running over the rough desert into the bright sunlight.

On top of the residential platform, the owner stared at the rows of dogs that turned the building corner on his personal residential house. He frowned. "Where are the rows of dogs heading, my valuable servant Waleed?"

Waleed smiled and followed the upright tail on each trained canine. "Each dog has graduated from my killer canine school. Each dog has been conditioned to kill any human around them, once their sensitive doggie eardrums hear that terrible off-key musical note, coming from the lovely little sweet musical nursery rhyme, entitled: Mary Had a Little Lamb. Now, a pack of fifty dogs will be shipped once per week directly to the USA and then land on the wet shoreline along the east or west coastline. There, each dog will be quarantined inside an individual wire cage for six months..."

He gasped. "Six months, your killer canine will set docile for six long solar calendar months. Will the dog forget its deadly mission? What is the purpose of containment for six months in America?"

Waleed frowned. "I must obey the American quarantine laws. During the long six months, my trained and disguised group of fake family members, who have each secured a valid green card for working a paying job there in America, will come once-per-week to see their caged family dog, shedding tears and fake sobs with the imprisonment of the poor canine. Then, after the long six months has completed, each one of my fifty dogs will be released to the care and love of each fake family member. Each fake family member will take the caged canine from the warehouse and then deposit the killer dog into my private business company, which is called, Love Them All. The company will receive each killer canine and then house providing warmth, fresh food, and nice shelter. Then the business company will quickly select and provide each sweet dog for free with a year of dog food to a loving American family."

He gasped. "Then what happens next? I don't understand. You feed and train each dog for months and then send each dog into America as a free commodity using my billions of dollars, for some type of purpose. What happens next?"

Waleed frowned. "That is hard to anticipate, my lord. Each dog will be swiftly distributed into a loving American home, settling down into its new doggie life, with its American family unit. The dog is carefully placed inside a loving American home, with a set of amateur musicians, such like, a young child or a teenager or a mature adult at can play a musical instrument. Otherwise, the creepy musical note would become useless, for the purpose of the killer canine and my killer plans."

He gasped. "What happens if one of your killer canines is not placed within an amateur musical family?"

"No fear!" Waleed smiled. "Well, the Americans should fear us. I always anonymously send out a musical disc with the recorded version of the nursery rhyme, Mary Had a Little Lamb. Then when the American family member gets around to playing the music on the family musical player, the sound of the single high-pitched off-key musical note would shift my dog's mental mind directly into a deadly attack mode, killing each member within the American family unit. Surprise! One strike for us!" He laughed with a nod of satisfaction

He nodded with a smile. "You are very talented, Waleed. What happens if the American family never plays your masterful but weird musical recording or no one can play a musical instrument?"

Waleed frowned. "Alas! I have failed, my lord. My dog happily stays with the American family living in both love and harmony for the rest of its long life. I cannot control the dog's mind but have tried with all of my limited Allah's given powers."

He nodded. "You are forgiven, my valuable servant, Waleed. I completely understand. However, I am worried about your new American company, which is called, Love Them All. Which if, a smarter American citizen becomes curious about the foreign business company and then connects the killer canine with your company? The American company's business records could be easily traced back here to our homeland here in the country of Syrian."

"No fear again!" Waleed laughed. "I have created a multi-layer tier of both legal and illegal companies between me and my Love Them All business American company. If a smart law enforcement officer tries to trace down the origins of the Love Them All business American company, the person will run into numerous dead ends. Once all the dogs have been adopted into a loving American family, the local Love Them All business company branch silently folds and then moves out from the local area, without notice, after paying of the American expenses, of course. My trusted employees move far, far away and then set up a new operating within a small town."

He nodded with a stern face. "Have you been successful? How long have you been sending a pack of fifty killer dogs over to our greatest enemy, the United States of America?"

Waleed smiled. "I have been working on this deadly project. Excuse the pun! Six packs of fifty dogs were released last week and then scattered by each assigned Love Them All business companies throughout the tiny towns within the USA."

He frowned. "Well, have you been succeeded or not with your vicious killer canine pack there in America?"

Waleed laughed. "Have you heard of town of Walcott within the U.S. State of Washington or the town of Pitchfork within the U.S. State of Tennessee or the town of Blackspring within U.S. State of Missouri?"

The owner whipped out his personal mobile telephone and looked down, typing on the tiny keyboard, staring at the screen and hunted for the name of each USA town, "No."

Waleed nodded with a smile. "These particular tiny American towns and their American natives have been wiped off the face of the planet, there inside the USA, foreverly, compliments of my canine killer pack of dogs."

He looked up and smiled at his valuable servant. "What happened to the assigned killer pack of dogs within each one of these non-existing American towns?"

Waleed exhaled with worry. "I don't really know. Each dog did is a programmed kill job. Either the dog was killed, or the dog ran away from the person with the hand gun."

"Where would the dog run away too?"

Waleed frowned. "The dog could run away to anywhere while looking to survive. I can't send my employees out and around each local American community collecting up a killer beast, without causing great suspicion. Most likely, my trained killer dog did not survive the shoot-out with the American gunslinger. Once a domesticated animal tastes real blood, the dog craves more. Then, the runaway dog finds a new wholesome American family to attack," he laughed. "Or my killer canine is killed during its next dangerous and deadly attack process. Either way, now, we are winning over the American stupid infidels. Their stupid US Federal Government leadership thinks that we are sending in a lone wolf to kill herds of stupid Americans..."

"But we are."

Waleed laughed with a smile. "That's beside the point, my lord! Now, we are sending in our most loyal allies, man's best friend. You are very familiar with our nation's history. Evidence of settlement on the landscape has been recorded as far backwards as 9,000 B.C. Within the earlier Egyptian records, in the year 1350 B.C., Dimasqu or Damascus was ruled by King Biryawza. In the year 1260 B.C., a civil war occurred between the Hittites from the north and the Egyptian army from the south on our land property, ending the conflict, without our freedom. Our soldiers paired with our allies, the domesticated canine dog. We used a psychological technique by placing a line of sitting and tongue panting dogs in front of the line of Damascus soldiers taking advantage of the Egyptian reverence for all animals while scaring all the Egyptian soldiers back home to their queen mother."

He shook the headscarf with frown. "That's not correct. In the year 1260 B.C., Pharaoh Ramses II won that battle fight against us."

Waleed frowned, "No, not really! The historical records state that the Egyptian army arrived and then prevented a Hittite victory, which was a Damascus victory instead. To continue through the ancient history books, in the year 64 B.C., Roman General Pompey came and then conquered the new lands with his pack of wild dogs, which were called a Molossus breed dog, coming from the Molossia region in the Epirus. Each dog had been decorated with body armor and a spike collar and sent into battle to kill the enemy. And that canine strategy worked brilliantly. That is only war dog warrior within our history. There are numerous examples of ancient canine warriors.

"In Seventh Century B.C., a death grave has been discovered a Magnesian horseman who was named Hippaemon and it also contained his dead dog, that was named Letharogs, and his dead horse too. In the year 490 B.C., at the Battle of Marathon, on a wall mural, a war dog followed his master into battle against the Persians. In the year 480 B.C., Xerxes, the first from the Persia Empire brought a pack of hounds with him and then invaded the country of Greece. In the year 281 B.C., at the Battle of Corupedium, warrior Lysimachus dies and then is discovered, who is guarded by his devoted and faithful canine dog. In the year 120 B.C., the king of Arvernii of Bituito attacked a group of Roman soldiers with only a pack of his trained canines. In the year 1501 A.D., the Spanish conquistadors landed in the New World and used packs of trained large breed dogs against the Native American Indians tribes clearing the land, killing the true natives of America. During World War One, the American forces used a Boston Terrier breed dog to..."

"Yes," he nodded with a smile. "Now, I am beginning to understand, my valuable servant, Waleed. Your historical war dog literature and lecture is fruitful. So, you have composed and then implemented a new canine strategy with your pack of rescued dogs."

"Yes, my lord." Waleed smiled. "The domesticated role for the canine evolved because a human offered the wild animal food, shelter, and love. Thus, it was a beneficial arrangement for both man and mammal. At first, the canine would roam free, without a dog leash, greeting other friendly and non-friendly dogs, chasing after squirrels and rabbits and deer, and maybe the annoying family feline cat on the family plot of land. The dog cruised happily through the woods, the crop fields, the flat meadows, and the shallow water streams exercising their furry body and their doggie senses. Within the rural farm life, a dog or two worked with the land owner all day plowing, hunting, herding, carting or guarding the crops, the livestock, and the family unit. This dog and its mate would return back home tired, eating a nice meal, crashing down onto the floor with a full belly and a happy life, sleeping for the next day's adventure. This is a perfect life for a canine that is the fourth cousin to the gray wolf.

"Push forward into the modern times, the rural life style of a simple landowner has been replaced with a fast automobile machine that can crash the bones on a runaway dog into its pain and suffering, maybe, eventually its terrible death. A two-story brick house with a chain-linked fenced yard has replaced the open meadow fields of flowers and the winding fresh water streams. And the gigantic plasma television has replaced any outside activity for both man and mammal. Thus, the life of canine becomes stressed and complex and complicated with tension, lonely hours, without friend or foe, and dark nights of quietness. Then, the canine, that is truly related to the wild gray wolf, becomes bored, digging, chewing, barking, growling, and destroying precious items for its doggie attention from its human master or mistress. So, I have naturally utilized the dog's natural canine barbaric instinct to reverse that dull American home life into a little more dangerous exciting activity," laughing.

The owner frowned. "However, I see a flaw here. Why hasn't more American family units been murdered by your pack of killer dogs which have been already been sent into the United States of America?"

Waleed frowned. "First, not every American family owns a dog. Second, not every child or adult plays a musical instrument. Third, not every child or adult practices their musical instrument. Fourth, no every American family unit enjoys musical sounds which is included on my enclosed musical disc. So, based on all of these factors, I would expect to see a very low family unit rate with my true killer dog, where canine dog went crazy and then attacked the child and the rest of the family unit."

He frowned. "That is not good."

Waleed smiled. "That is great. We will not become a suspect within each American family unit's cold bloody doggie murder. And we will have more time to murder more American family units through my future pack of killer dogs. I will continue to train each dog and then send a shipment of dogs onto the soil on America. We will slowly murder each American, without their common knowledge, as they continue to chase the tail on the dog," laughing."

He frowned. "I am a little concerned here. Wonder if, the American law authorities figure out the connection between your pack of killer canines and the unique weird musical note."

Waleed lifted up and presented a small manual, laughing out loud. "I have addressed that question for each slow-thinking American law authority, my lord. I, with the help of some smarter animal veterinarians, of course, had provided a book, which is entitled: Identifying Separation Anxiety Mood Swings within Your New Family Pet."

He laughed with a nod. "That is excellent."

Waleed dropped down the book and flipped open the page, reading out loud. "Actually, the printed doggie propaganda is silly. Listen to this advice for an American family here. Separation anxiety can occur within your new puppy. You must provide activities for your puppy to do during your absence at work or play. Give your puppy a new chew toy. Hire a puppy walker. Make each house exit low key. If you must say goodbye to your dog, plan the exit thirty minutes, before the actual departure time." The owner started laughed, without speaking. Waleed smiled. "O! There is more for your personal amusement, my lord. A dramatic goodbye from your dog will cause your family pet to feel separated and then lead into its doggie stress. So, you should wait to leave the house, when your dog exhibits a calmer behavior pattern. If the separation anxiety behavior continues, you must consult with a doggie behavioral professional for guidance, and, also a veterinarian behaviorist into the doggie rehabilitation team. Or maybe, your dog possesses a hormonal or neuro-chemical imbalance, which can be treated by medication."

"What a piece of camel spit!"

Waleed laughed. "I do believe the American term is: what a piece of cow shit!"

He nodded with a smile. "I congratulate your valuable work and your devoted pack of killer canines. The Americans, they will never see this one coming. They are so focused on an electronic threat coming through the global computer internet or an unmonitored computer cable into the major power grid or a major banking institution into bankruptcy that they will never fully recover from our large vessel of smaller warm mammal vicious cold bloody murders. How fast can you send into the USA more packs of canine killers?"

Waleed smiled. "This shipment is heading out from Syrian this afternoon. I will have thirty more packs of fifty adopted and orphaned dogs next week that will be shipped to west coast of America. I will continue to rob the Chinese of their dogs and then train and ship my pack of canine killers, until we have depleted most of the small towns with people and property within the United States of America. Nothing happens in a small town. Then we can start our major assault on the Americans and their American soil."

The owner spun around from the manicured yard with a smile and then slowly moved ahead back towards the open archway on his elite residential manor without seeing his servant. "Excellent suggestion, Waleed! Please proceed with my blessings!"

Waleed spun around from the manicured yard then bowed his upper body low at his waistline, without seeing the back spine on his master, softly saying. "Thank you, my lord!" He stood upright with a grin then spun around in a different direction, moving back towards the canine kennel facility for more of his important divine work that will eventually slowly destroy the evil country of infidels, the United States of America.

The owner continued to shuffle ahead in the bright sunlight, whispering for his eardrums only with a nod and a smile, staring at the cool interior walls of his personal manor. "Nothing happens in a small town. I must remember that clever line for future use." He entered back into his palace house with loud laughter and his personal defeat of the Americans on their own property.
Present day and time

03:13 pm (early afternoon)

City of Felton, Alabama, USA

Main Street roadway setting

Hot temperatures with bright sunshine

A line of Birmingham police cars in black and white colors had diagonally crisscrossed the main roadway while blocking all the traffic consisting of both moving vehicles and walking upright bodies from shuffling down the city street.

A local reporter from the Birmingham television station was positioned near the main highway and away from the line of police cars, standing in front of a live streaming television camera lens, wearing a stern face. She wiped off her melting makeup with her free hand from the heated weather, wearing a head of shoulder length black tinted hair, a pair of blue eyeballs, tone of suntanned skin, and a peach colored business suit, staring at the camera woman. "Are we rolling yet? Am I on live television yet? Hello! My name is Peelnite Mublabree. I am standing here on a nameless county roadway, in-between two lush groves of shade trees and low plants, without a single automobile or citizen, within the tiny town of Felton. The town of Felton is so tiny that the population stands or sits around 5,000 people. I have learned that there has been a fire storm at the local auditorium building, which had occurred forty-five minutes ago. The auditorium building, that holds two townships of Felton and Gardenville citizens, is currently engulfed in numerous plumes of black drifting smoke, which you can see over my right shoulder. And the building appears as a blazing fireball, without reason or purpose. I am standing here in the heated sunlight staring at lines of police officers from the Birmingham police station and numerous television reporters while watching for any new information coming from the Birmingham police chief about this terrible matter. I do not know where local Felton Police Chief Zimb Netdotoe is located at the moment. I have learned that there is a new Felton Police Chief, but he is not here along with the Felton and Gardenville police force and is missing from the rows of Birmingham police officers," she frowned. "What? I can't hear you from behind the television lenses, Rita." She gasped in shock. "O! Look behind my butthole!" She spun around in a half-circle with a gasp, pointing at an object. "Yes. Yes. Yes. There! There! I am moving ahead and have spotted a solo white tinted golf kart, that is driving on top of main highway, alone and lonely. There's a solo driver in the golf kart. I'm racing towards the driver of the golf kart for some new information here. Stay with me, live audience! I'm streaming all my new information live here on television station WANAL." She reached the rolling golf kart then stopped, viewing the solo driver. "This is horrible. This is terrible. Sir, sir, I am slowly jogging beside your rolling golf kart. The driver is an old man with white hair on his head, but his entire body is covered in red blood. His face and his arms are covered in red blood also. His blue and white shirt is partially missing from his exposed naked chest also. His naked chest and two collar bones display a set of nasty bloody wounds also. Who are you, sir? What happened to your face, sir? Why are you bleeding, sir? What has attacked you, sir? Sir, sir, stop the golf kart!" The golf kart stopped in the road. she slid down into the front passenger seat, slapping her microphone into his bloody mouth.

He sobbed with rolling tears that stung his bloody face. "I...I lost everyone. My wife is dead. My son is dead. My two daughters are dead. My two grandsons are dead. Everyone, I love is dead."

She jerked back her microphone, saying into the machine in shock. "What happened, sir? Where did you come from, sir? Why are you bleeding, sir? Who did this terrible thing?" She slapped her microphone back into his bloody mouth.

He wiped the bloody from his face and both of cut and bruised hands, reaching up, holding the bloody slashed wound on his collar bone. "I...I barely escaped from the auditorium. The auditorium is..."

"...on fire..." the reporter jerked the microphone back into her smirk. "We know that the Gardenville Auditorium building interior space and exterior building is a blazing pretty fire bomb. What happened to start the fire?" She slapped the microphone back into his bloody mouth.

The injured elderly male gasped in shock and shouted out loud, waving both of his arms in the air in panic and worry. "No! No! No! There is not a fire. There is a firestorm of dogs..."

"Move away from the victim, Miss Reporter!" A pair of two police officers appeared. One shoved the nosy television reporter from the bloody victim, sliding her body down into the golf kart, pointing at the line of squad cars. "Move the golf kart away from here, sir!" The elderly man pressed the gasoline pedal and then performed a putt-putt maneuver towards the crisscrossed line of police cars.

The black-haired television reporter swiftly dashed down the hillside in her pair of fashion designer high heels, sounding with a huff, stopped, and then stood in the middle of the country road again with a backdrop of thick green tinted woods and an empty street, without a roaring vehicle or a single walking citizen. She held the microphone near her smile. "Did you see that, live television audience? I was interviewing the victim from the blazing firebomb at the local Gardenville auditorium building, when that rude and mean police officer shoved me away from the true and real news story here. I am in the dark like you, live audience people. The police officers constantly interfere and block my First Amendment right of free speech, coming from our U.S. Constitution which was granted by our forefathers over 200 years ago. Well, the best I can gather here, there is not a firebomb at the Gardenville auditorium, which is strange. The police officer told me that too. My new live source, the old man with the numerous bloody slashes over his face, his arms, and his collar bone just said that there is a not a fire bomb at the Gardenville auditorium also. This new bit of information is strange and bizarre. But I promise to find out the truth here. I will wait right here, until the police chief provides a new set of information. This is Peelnite..." She frowned at her camera woman again. "What, Rita! I can't hear your meek female voice behind the television camera lenses." She heard the soft words then frowned with confusion. "Look behind my butthole!" She swung around with a loud scream. Numerous rows of running blood-coated canine dogs appeared in various sizes, fur color, and textures quickly dashed ahead towards the television reporter and the numerous lines of police officers, without mercy.

A blood-stained, white tinted tiny lap Poodle dog leaped up from the city street, launching in the air with an exposed mouth of its bloody fangs, then sliced down into her human face. The television reporter swiftly tumbled backwards with another loud scream. Her rear skull landed first then the rest of her flying female body hit down on top of the hard road pavement, knocking her unconscious. The white, black and brown colored Beagle Hound dog breed stopped then leaned down ripping into her unprotected chest cavity, pulling out her pumping heart organ and then ate the human organ. The dog slowly dashed ahead while eating the human heart organ towards the next human, the television camera woman.

While the tiny lap Poodle breed dog flew in the air then landed down on top of the hard pavement, continuing to race towards the numerous lines of police officers while growling with its fangs and teeth in human red blood proteins. Each police officer stood in place and drew out their hand gun, shooting at each advancing vicious, growling canine while killing one or two. The rest of the growling canines from numerous rows quickly attacked each police officer, without mercy.

The war will never end....
