July 18 – Responded to an emergency call with several other units tonight, and it was a weird one. Even for Gargoyle Park, if that gives you an idea. I just can’t shake this one off, and not quite sure why. . .
We pull up on this old house in the Deadroot neighborhood, and I was expecting we were going to be dealing with another OD or something. It’s Deadroot, after all. But this is a nice house. Too nice for Deadroot for sure. Surprised I haven’t noticed it before. Don’t know much about architecture, but it looks like the kind of house that good old Mordecai Gargoyle would have designed. Not as fancy, but still, really nice.
The front door’s wide open. Ellard and I go in first, guns out, just in case. Larmore, Jelkis and Francis come up behind. House is as nice inside as out. Spotless. Kinda house you would expect to be full of antique furniture, but this place was pretty sparsely decorated. Right through the front door is a big. . .grand entryway maybe you call it?
Anyway, there in the middle of the floor is this lady on her knees, covered in blood, screaming and wailing over what looks like a bunch of raw meat shoved into a housecoat.
The raw meat turns out to be the guy who owns the house, Chellick Starling. Larmore has the decency to make it outside before he pukes. I remember my rookie days.
We don’t get much out of the lady. Not much you would call coherent, anyway. Like I said, she’s covered in blood. I’d guess she’s in her mid-50’s. She’s black, and by her accent I’d peg her as Jamaican. She’s a sturdy gal, looks like she’s used to hard work. She’s Starling’s caregiver. Was his caregiver. She keeps saying she knew this was going to happen, why did he have to be so stubborn, if he would have just listened to her. I’d say she seems genuinely broken up about the guy, but I guess they always do.
Speaking of broken up, this Starling guy. He kind of looks like he got picked up by a giant pair of hands who crushed him and then kind of rolled him around between their palms for a little bit. Closest I’ve seen to something like this was that homeless guy that fell asleep in a car at Demos’ Demolition and ended up in the car crusher.
But even though the lady. . .she’s got a name, Amancia Bailey. . .Even though Amancia’s covered in blood, there’s not much blood on or around Starling. If you would have told me that Amancia had scrubbed him and the floor, I’d have almost believed you.
Jelkis and I check out the rest of the house, while the other guys wait for the usual crew to bat clean-up. Nice house. Creepy. Quiet. Sparse. But as far as Jelkis and I can tell, there’s no one else there. Just Amancia and a hundred-some pounds of meat that used to be Chellick Starling.
Word is they’re charging Bailey with murder. Good luck with that. She’s a strong gal, but I have no idea what she did to Starling to leave him looking like that and as far as I know, they haven’t found a murder weapon. Really damn weird, and I can’t stop thinking about it.