Inexplicably Irate

“Joe was the last person on Earth I expected to do that…”

She was bawling, tears flowing down her pretty face like a waterfall. Detective Graham McCaffrey remained impassive. He had witnessed a lot of crying over his three decades in the force. Nothing fazed him any more. Holding out his handkerchief for the grieving widow, he wondered if this desensitization was a positive or a negative.

“Well, ma’am, maybe you didn’t know him that well.”

At this she glared, clearly insulted.

“I knew Joseph O’Shaughnessy better than anyone alive! We lived together for four years. We knew everything about eachother…”

McCaffrey cut the babbling lady short.

“Nevertheless, there are people coming forward even at this early stage whose interactions with the…man in question-” He had almost said ‘deceased’ “-go back further, and they paint a picture of an individual who could quite easily…lose the rag.”

Her shoulders slumped, her features sagged. The detective knew she felt defeated, and he softened his tone.

“I’m sure he was a good man to you, Ms. Treacy. A kind man. A loving and affectionate partner…but we have to face facts. There is no disputing what transpired here. Confronting reality is the first step to…healing.”

Caroline Treacy nodded weakly, and sobbed into the handkerchief provided. McCaffrey’s partner approached, so Graham gently ushered the disconsolate woman away before liaising with his colleague.

“What have we got, Karl?”

Karl V.T. Whigham winked. He loved the grisly ones. Maybe he was disturbed, but something about the gore and viscera of a scene like this…made him feel more alive.

“Aha! It seems poor unfortunate Mrs Gwendoline Samuels-” He gestured at the nearest body bag, thirty feet away “-began berating Mr. O’Shaughnessy about…well…we’re not quite sure at this juncture…but he responded in kind and the disturbance became quite heated, whereupon at approximately 5:15pm the gentleman grabbed a fire axe from the lobby wall and stove her head in with the blunt end.”

Whigham chuckled ostentatiously, evidently deriving humour from the sequence of events.

“He then hacked at her skull for a few minutes – or merely a few seconds, witnesses differ – before several bystanders attempted to disarm him.” The detective tutted. “This…was a mistake. He took down 4 people – 3 men, 1 more woman – before the Emergency Response Unit took him down.”

McCaffrey sighed. It mattered little now, but he couldn’t help but wonder; what could possibly have triggered this unspeakably violent rampage?

Solidarity, brothers & sisters…

About Seba Roux

Gooner, Socialist, Historian, Slacker. That's pretty much all you need to know.
This entry was posted in Short Stories and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s