Karla was was a devoted cop from a long line of family members in the force. She had plenty of experience on the beat, having held several municipal appointments in cities across the mid west. Karla still worked in uniform, but she might as well have held the rank of detective. Every case she was assigned, she managed to solve. And when she came across a new crime scene, she knew just what to do, who to talk to, what to look out for.
But there was something strange about this case. It didn't quite add up and Karla was about to experience the mystery first hand.
Karla had been cruising with her partner Officer Jones when the call came in. The man drove, even though Karla was the senior of the partnership. Young, dumb and full of cum - that's how Karla characterised her offsider. He was dark skinned and good looking with an attractive body, but he had plenty of ego and he was too impulsive.
Mind you, Karla could hold her own. She had retained an athletic form through life, and it complemented her intense hazel eyes and straight brunette hair. She could dress to the nines, but at work she dressed purely for business with hair in a tight ponytail beneath a police-issued cap and no hint of makeup.
The police car pulled up to the front gate, and the two officers looked ahead to the facility. A large sign spanned the entryway, and Jones read it aloud, turning to Karla for a response. "Happy Ending Retirement Village. Do they really know what that means?"
"It's a strange one, Admiral," replied Karla. "Maybe its an Asian thing." It was true that there had been an influx of Chinese capital into projects like this throughout the town. Whether they were perpetratorss or victims, the Asians always seemed to have a funny way of using the English language. "You know - how they sometimes say things."
Jones nodded in reply, but whispered, "Can you just call me Ad?"
"Sure thing, Admiral!" Karla ribbed using his full name, and then wiped the smirk from her face, apologising. "Sorry Jones."
Jones shook his head and proceeded to park the cruiser in the circular driveway. A tall middle aged gentleman in a suit met them at the doorway to reception and began to explain the situation in a flustered way.
"Hi, I'm Trevor Brownlow, the manager here. We don't know what's happened. He was found this morning. But everyone else is accounted for. The schedule - the workers - we haven't looked everywhere but we think -," he fumbled his words.
"Thanks Mr Brownlow," explained Karla. "I'm Officer McDaw and this is Officer Jones. Please lead us to the scene and we'll take over the investigation from there."
"Yes, yes, of course," replied Brownlow, leading the officers through reception, along hallways and into a large open recreation room. Lying on the floor near the middle of the room was the contorted form of a naked man.
Karla looked down to inspect the body. He was a handsome young man. Twenty, maybe twenty five. Well he
used
to be handsome, but now his form was disfigured and his body bent in unnatural directions.
Brownlow stammered, "He was the attendant. We don't know what time, but it must have been, well it could have been -."
Karla faced Browlow and interrupted, "Thanks Mr Brownlow. Could you just wait in reception? We will follow up with you, and the other suspects shortly."
"Am I a suspect?"
"Everyone is a suspect at the moment Mr Brownlow. We are just commencing the investigation. And please don't let anyone into this room. It's officially a crime scene now."
Brownlow backed out of the room, muttering nervously. Karla noticed the faces of some white-haired residents peering around the doorway, but Brownlow shooed them away as he left.
Karla turned back to the corpse which Jones had been studying diligently. "He's fucked to death," he announced.
"What do you mean fucked to death?" said Karla. "He's fucked. And he's dead. You don't say he's fucked to death. Like you don't say someone's been murdered to death, do you?"
"No, I mean, literally fucked to death," informed Jones seriously. "Look here, on his face. What do you see?"
"A big smile?" responded Karla.
"Yes. And look here - tell me what you see."
"A cock? So what?"
"Look," prompted Jones. "It's red. Red raw. That cock has seen a lot of action. And look how it's still erect. But it's got kinks like it's been bent and broken recently. The balls. Do you see them?"
"No."
"Look here at the pubis. At these lumps. Those are the balls. This cock has been pumped so many times that the balls have been emptied. And after that it looks like the pumping has continued and tried to suck the balls right out of the end his cock."
"How do you know this?" quizzed Karla.
"I'm a guy. We know these things."
"I'm impressed, Jones."
"There's more. See this thick sticky goo over his body?" Karla nodded and swiped some with her index finger, rubbing it between her finger and thumb.
"Smell it," Jones prompted. Karla sniffed her finger.
"It smells like - like - I can't quite -," Karla's voice trailed off.
Jones completed the sentence triumphantly. "That's pussy juice."
"Ewww," complained Karla, wiping her finger clean on her trouser leg with disdain on her face.
"Right - let's get this investigation rolling," Karla announced and took charge of the situation. The officers met Brownlow in reception. Karla knew exactly the next steps to follow. It was clearly a homicide, or possibly an industrial accident, but there was no need to call for backup - they had the skills and resources to work through this case.
The receptionist, Rhonda, arrived while the officers were in discussions with Brownlow. Rhonda was an attractive young woman with blonde hair, high heels and a little too much makeup. She had not been informed of the incident and appeared shocked when Brownlow explained the situation.
"What!" she exclaimed. "Kyle! But he's only been here a month. He was so nice."
Between Rhonda and Brownlow, the officers learned the lay of the land, so to speak. Happy Endings housed around forty residents, although Rhonda did inadvertently call them inmates from time to time.
The residents were classified as moderate care, which meant that there was a nurse on duty at all times. The facility also employed cleaners, a groundsman and two kitchen staff. Of course, there was also the deceased Kyle who was an attendant charged with responding to the miscellaneous day to day needs of the elderly residents. Along with the manager and receptionist, that was the extent of persons who were regularly on the site.
There were visitors, and contractors from time to time, of course. But Rhonda consulted the reception books and discovered that no-one else had been at the site in the last 48 hours.
"We need to see everyone," Karla informed the manager.
"Everyone?"
"Yes, that's right," she confirmed. "We don't know what's happened here, so we'll have to interview everyone who has been at the complex over the last day. Is there a problem?"
"No, no," stammered Browning.
"It's just -," started Rhonda, pausing. "It's just that our residents can be a bit scatty. If you know what I mean. And they like to sleep."
"Well you better go wake them up!" ordered Jones completely lacking diplomacy.
Karla followed up. "We need a place to meet. And it can't be the recreation room. What's the best place?"
"The dining room," blurted Browning and Rhonda nodded. Karla noticed that Rhonda and Brownlow faced each other with a worried look that was immediately wiped clean with a nervous smile. She filed that information away.
"It will take a little time to rouse the residents," Brownlow informed. "Rhonda will show you to the kitchen and dining room. If you'd care to wait there, we will return with the residents soon."
Rhonda led the way along wide hallways and the officers followed. Rhonda provided a running commentary on the daily schedule of the residents while the officers peered down every door and alley running off the main hallway. Small clusters of residents could be seen here and there, dressed in long gowns, shuffling along with walking frames and drawn faces like the living dead.
Along one of the hallways, when Karla judged they had reached the middle of the building, Rhonda indicated an open door adorned with a red cross. "This is medical."
A youngish Asian woman dressed in nurse's whites came quickly to the doorway. "This is our nurse, Rose," introduced Rhonda. "But shes very busy - aren't you Rose?"
Rose took no notice of Rhonda and addressed the police directly. "Hello officers. Nice to meet you. Say I had an uncle in the force. Do you know him? Let me find you his picture. Rose scrolled on her phone, seemingly forever, and then held the screen up to Karla's face. It would be another anonymous Asian face, thought Karla, but when she focused there was a message written in an unsent text message.
