Detective to Detective

He’d stumbled into the police station, the doors opening as his body dropped on the fanciful marble floors in the lobby. Soaked and barely conscious, he hit the deck as a loud crack of lighting struck, breaking up the sound of the heavy rains outside. One of the officers in the lobby called for help, as another yelled.

“Jesus, it’s Moretti!”

Two detectives, sitting in their office with little to do, heard the calls for help from teh front of the station. They recognized Tony Moretti. For more than twenty years, Tony Moretti was one of them. So, when they managed to get him a little more coherent, they were stunned by what he had to say.

“I’m here to report a murder,” he told his two former colleagues.

As the precinct captain stood on the opposite side of the glass, the detectives started their casual conversation with Moretti. Jeb Walker and Bill Bogard were decent detectives, but they never rose to the intuitive abilities that Tony Moretti was known for. They were taking things slower than Moretti would have, knowing the captain was watching and wanting to impress their former lead detective.

“So, when you came in, you were in…”

“Rough shape,” sighed Moretti. “I know, I haven’t been feeling the best.”

Bill Bogard dropped his head as he stood against the glass. He’d heard rumors. That was the thing about cops. They gossipped like a bunch of bored housewives with nothing better to do. So, there wasn’t much that went unknown around the police department, even with their prodigal sons.

“So, it’s true?” Bill asked, half-rhetorically.

Tony looked over at Bill. They’d had beers together. They’d met for lunch a few times. And, despite them being somewhat friendly, Tony had elected to keep the younger detective in the dark. But, now the cat was out of the bag.

“Yeah, it’s true. Stage IV. Nothing they can do,” sighed Tony.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Looking toward the glass, knowing their captain was watching, they tried to turn their attentjion back to the matter at hand. As Jeb sat across from Tony, he started the questioning.

“Before you passed out and we had the paramedics come check you over, you said you were here to report a murder,” Jeb reminded him. “Who’s dead?”

“Yeah, about that. It’s a long story,” admitted Tony.

Bill bent over the table, looking his friend in the eye, and demanded to know what the hell was going on. He knew Tony was taking private work, contracting and doing some investigations for corporate types. He’d heard he’d branched into the intel sector, reconnecting with some of his former military buddies.

“What are you into?” demanded Bill. “If you need our help, you’re going to have to be honest.”

“Am I?” laughed Tony. “Well, maybe, I just wanted…”

Before Tony could finish his sentence, the glass behind the bars exploded, and Tony slumped to onto the table, his body lurching violently as his head opened up. Jeb ducked to the ground, now covered in Tony’s blood, pieces of his skull sticking to his shirt. Bill drew his gun, peaked around the edge of the window ledge. He couldn’t see a thing.

Bill turned to his partner, asking if he was alright. Officers from the precinct began to poor into the area. The call went out, officer down, even though Tony wasn't one of them anymore. Bill took control, and began giving orders to the responding officers. Jeb was stoic, even in shock, after seeing one of his former partners head exploding all over him.

"What the hell?" Bill asked aloud, not really aiming it at anybody.