BLOOD ON ORCHARD STREET

Saturday morning, the light from the sky was radiant. A lawn full of rocks and footprints where children had played follow the leader. It was a quiet day. A day that some cops, and other law enforcement would call a day of murder. It seem likes when you are in the eyes of darkness, that is all you see. Twenty-two years on the force, and I still couldn’t get use to the job. I remember back when I first started, and I had my first couple of cases. The horror of going home not to sleep, but with the idea that when I slumbered I would dream of a lonely girl, a flying bullet, and a smile from a beautiful painting that would never be painting again. Ah, how do you deal with pain? I guess I would just have to deal, but I would hope not. As I arose from the bed cold making my way to the kitchen to eat what meal would be possible before the next call, or the next dive out of a building to secure a hostage. The phone rang, and I was drawn to Brandon’s picture flashing across the screen. "Brandon, I wonder what he could need this early?" I thought taking a sip of orange juice I poured fresh out the ice box. "Hello Brandon" I said, “Good Morning Mike, What going on in Mikey land". Brandon said sounding as if he was giggling, like there were tickets for admission to a real park. Brandon was always a joker, and I guess I had gotten used to the humor. Knowing that our routine always leads us to a morning stroll in the park to clear ours head from the nights before. I replied “Park run old friend". Of course he said the response I expected. After a quick shower, shoving a biscuit in my face and, drinking the cold orange juice I had poured giving me a sense of jet fuel energy. I grabbed the key to a new, black, vintage Mustang I received at a promotion party for twenty-one year in the Homicide unit, and quickly made haste down a set of old, brown, wooden steps. My phone rang yet again getting a call from Brandon. "Hello" I answered, waiting for Brandon to replied" Hey Mikey, Meet me at the water fountain’s bench", he said. I quickly reply and hung up the phone as I opened the door to my vehicle. Fifteen to twenty minute later I pull up to the park, and swung the wheel around as I tried to spot where Brandon had park his classic muscle car. I looked off to the side of the water fountain just beyond the water, and spotted him standing there eyes drifting off as if he was distracted. I parked and walked up to Brandon. "Hey Brandon, how you doing" I said slowly wondering if he was ok? “What going on old friend" Brandon replied to me as he glared off in to the sun. The water fountain was a very popular spot for locals and soon the park was crawling with peoples. There were stores running along the park's outskirt. Ms. Anderson pet shop along with Mr. Wilson flower seed shop and many other stores. We began walking down the sidewalk. We were soon approach by Miss Peterson and her ten year old son, Billy. "Yooo Hooo Mikey, how do you do!” she said. Walking fast in her flower, cuffed dress with a white, scarf wrapped around her neck. Bright, red lipstick and a coat of soft, powder foundation giving her face a fine, doubly, upscale look. "Well hello Miss Peterson, what a pleasure" I spoke with a sound of interest. "Hello Miss Peterson." said Brandon. "Hello there Brandon”, said Miss Peterson. Taping little Billy on the shoulder and shoving him forward. "Say hello Billy”, she stated. Billy fixing his lips to open as his hands sweated, and his left eye began to twitch. "Hello Mr. Mike and Mr. Brandon" he said softly. Billy was a soft, spoken and quiet, boy. As sweet as he was I believed he needed to get out more. He wasn’t a big social butterfly, and I felt it would be healthy to meet more kids. Miss Peterson was a recently divorced widow from a vice president of an oil company, and a sweet, southern woman who made pies for the church’s fruit festival.