Welcome to this week’s Tuesday Tales. I’m continuing with The White Dahlia. Did you know that dahlias symbolize, among other things inner strength, change, and dignity, all qualities Beth will need to get out of this plot alive.
Here’s the photo I chose.
“Reynolds, Homicide.” She choked back a squeal as coffee dribbled across the back of her hand and set the cup down, using tissue to mop up the mess on her desk.
“Sergeant, this is Kara on switchboard again. It’s been a busy night, hasn’t it? This kind of heat just makes people bat-shit crazy. Apparently 9 1 1 has been lit up like a Christmas tree with everything from alarm failures to UFO sightings.”
The dispatcher’s voice conveyed her tiredness.
“I can just imagine. So what have you got for me this time? Another domestic gone bad?”
Beth sipped the hot coffee, hoping the caffeine would rouse her. There were still four hours to go before the day shift arrived. Maybe whatever this was could be checked by a patrol car. Not every dead body found in the district belonged to Homicide. It could be a case for Special Victims, Gangs, or Major Crimes. Hell, it might just be an overdose and Narcotics could look after it.
“Wish I knew.” Kara sighed heavily, her voice filled with concern.
Beth frowned. Since when did dispatch not know why they were calling? Since she’d been here, Kara had always been level headed and on the ball.
“I got a call twenty minutes ago from a 9 1 1 operator about a body near a dumpster off Blake Street between Osborne and Rockaway.” She paused and exhaled heavily. “The man claimed wolves had attacked someone.”
Righting the vase she’d knocked over, Beth choked on the hot brew. Bat-shit crazy might well be the right term for this caller.
“Seriously?” She rolled her eyes. And it was only September, even if they were caught in a heat wave. “Wolves in Brooklyn? I suppose the man claimed they were werewolves, too? The moon won’t be full until Sunday. He’s ahead of himself.”
That’s it. Stay safe and don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales.