They say a picture is worth a thousand words. In Tuesday tales, it’s worth 300. Welcome to this week’s edition of Tuesday Tales. I;m continuing with The White Dahlia. Here’s the image I chose. Enjoy!
Blocking off the alley was Officer Chou’s suggestion. People were coming around. We didn’t want gawkers. Whatever did that isn’t human.”
If any of the yellow journalist got wind of this, they would be down on them in no time, and the tabloids would have a field day. Werewolf in NYC wouldn’t be what the Commissioner wanted either—not with a full moon this weekend. God alone knew how many drunks might get shot, mistaken for one supernatural creature or another.
She and Riley moved aside for the coroner’s car. The van wouldn’t be far behind. The window came down. Apparently Mitch Smith, the new kid on the block so to speak, had drawn the short straw. Beth had worked with her briefly before leaving Boston.
“Evening or should I say morning, Sergeant. Where’s the body, not that I can’t smell it.”
Beth nodded her response to the greeting, then turned to Riley and canted her head to the left. Lane ways between tenement blocks in this part of the city usually stunk to high heaven—one reason why there weren’t any windows on the lower floors—and the hot spell wasn’t helping.
“Between the second and third dumpster down. You can’t miss it,” Riley said.
“See you there.” Mitch raised the window and drove down the alley.
“It’s as if some wild animal went after her,” Riley continued.
Beth frowned and shook her head. “Whatever you do, don’t repeat that. We have enough crazies in the area, and the damn press can sniff out weird stories. Whatever this is, we don’t want it to make the morning news. Right now, until we know any different, this is simply a body found by a dumpster. It may not even be a crime scene.
That’s it. Stay safe and don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales.