Serialized fiction surged in popularity during Britain’s Victorian era, due to a combination of the rise of literacy, technological advances in printing, and improved economics of distribution. A significant majority of “original” novels from the Victorian era actually first appeared in either monthly or weekly installments in magazines or newspapers.
The Bob Mysteries – How I got Here Purely by Accident
Jim Petersen
©2016
ISBN: pending
The events depicted herein are purely the invention of the author except where they are public record and in no way should be construed to describe real events or persons.
The Bob Mysteries – Prequel
Chapter One
My name is Robert Thor Jonsen. I’m a Police Major Crime Scene Investigator. I only get called when the worst things that ever happen to people… happen.
Please however, call me Bob. Jonsen is prounounced “Yon’ sen” but I’ve learned the hard way not to expect that to happen in this life. I do draw the line with legal documents like subpoenas however. When they’re addressed to “Jonson, Johnson, Jansen, Jensen, Johanson,” etc. I refuse to sign the return of service. This really drives the Prosecutor’s Office nuts. Tough. They should care enough to try to get my name right.
It had begun ten days ago. It was a fairly quiet Sunday morning. I was doing what I usually do; trying to catch up on all the crime scene reports that my Lieutenant was very politely suggesting should have been submitted a week ago.
I was sitting at my desk. Actually, I was sitting a bit away from my desk with my feet up and my thoughts focused on going to Ala Moana for a 2K swim. The phone jarred me out of my happy place and I picked up the receiver.
“Bob, This is Kainoa Akana from D-4. I know you don’t usually come out for these kine cases but I have a bad feeling about this,”
I know Kainoa, he’s a solid officer. I listened.
He said “Yesterday, a local Waimanalo girl, Malia was reported missing by her mother. She’s a good girl, a community college student and always dependable,”
“Go on” I said
“Well, she’s always home from school for dinner but last night she didn’t show. She always calls if she can’t make it but last night she didn’t.”
“So, she went out with her boyfriend and ‘nevah like tell her mom,’” I said.
“Nah, nah, it’s not like that. She called her mom and said she was gonna drive back from town. Her mom said ‘be careful Malia girl, it gonna storm,”
“So what do you have?” I asked.
“I got her car on Pali Highway and a very bad feeling,”
I thought about it for a moment. We’re not supposed to go out for simple abandoned auto cases and we’re not supposed to go out unless we’re dispatched by CID. It’s not that we are so special, it’s just that there are not enough of us to send running around the island for junk that can be screwed up just as well by beat officers and it won’t matter.
Then I thought about Kainoa. If he says something’s wrong, it probably is.
“Let me get my stuff together and I’ll be over in about twenty minutes. Where are you?”
“Jus’ makai of old Kailua Drive-in,”
”Got it,” I said.
“You got here pretty fast,” said Kainoa. “It’s only been twenty minutes since I wen call you,”
“It was either that or sit in the office and type reports. Is that the car?” I said
“Yeah, the silver Toyota pulled off the side of the road”
“Did you find it Kainoa?”
“Nah, it was Milton on first watch. He called me to take over and wait for the tow wagon when he went off duty,”
“What gave you a bad feeling about the car?”
“Malia’s my cousin’s friend. Her family called me when she didn’t come home last night. They’re really worried. They said it’s just not like her. To tell the truth, I’m worried too. Malia’s a sweet girl”
“Anybody touch the car?” I asked
“I didn’t. I called you as soon as I saw it was Malia’s.”
“Ok, I’m going to treat this like a serious case. I’ll photo the scene and the exterior of the vehicle and then we’ll open it up and take a look inside,”
“Thanks Bob, I knew you wouldn’t blow me off,”
“Hey Kainoa, did Milton have chicken katsu for dinner last night?”
“I don’t know, why?”
“Because there’s a big fat greasy police officer thumb print on the door handle. Tell the first watch commander to drag Milton’s ass back down to the substation and get elimination prints and a statement from him. Maybe if we disturb his beauty sleep, he’ll stop being such a bonehead at crime scenes,”
“Bob, did you see the skid marks in the dirt behind the car?”
“Yeah, there are actually two sets of tracks, one set from Malia’s. The other set is from a bigger car, probably Detroit iron. I photographed the tracks but there’s not enough detail for comparison,”
“Kainoa, did you notice that the doors are unlocked and there’s no key in the ignition? I’m going inside,”
“I have never seen such a clean six year old Toyota. There’s nothing in here,” I said.
“Kainoa, come here and look at this,”
Contrary to popular opinion, you can almost never recover any prints from a steering wheel or a dashboard. That is unless you’re Che from Hawaii Five-0 but there are usually sweet thumbprints on the rear view mirror. Especially when a different driver uses the car like say, an auto thief.
“What do you see on the mirror Kainoa? Use my flashlight”
“Nothing, no wait, there’s some kind of pattern, kinda like cross-hatching,”
“Bingo, you got it. By the way, that’s the pattern that a cotton cloth makes when somebody wipes down the entire interior of a car. You know what buddy? Now I’m worried too. On your report, be sure and write all of the stuff that you and I did and how the scene was preserved. I don’t like what I see here,”
“Get a tow wagon and have them take Malia’s car to the Police Impound. Tell the guys at the yard to treat it like it was evidence in a homicide,” I said.
“Oh shit,” said Kainoa.
CHAPTER two
Tantalus Drive Ten days later
“Thunk” a hit. The outraged mongoose snarled back at me. What the hell am I doing here, half way down a Tantulus hillside, bouncing a rock off a mongoose who is trying to make a meal of the body of a young local girl? Thwack! Miss, dammit. Above me the beat officers were waiting for the meat wagon. I crooked my elbow more securely around the haole koa bush.
Back up on top, the scene had been established, traffic had been stopped. The sun was beginning to go down and the mosquito squadrons were forming up with a vengeance. Just behind the police line, the cameramen were white-balancing and the reporters were adjusting their hair. Marisa from KTIV was slapping at the offending blood-suckers. An officer came over and offered her some Off®. The entire crime scene came to a crashing halt as everyone watched the attractive young reporter in the short tight red skirt rub the insect repellent on her hands and sensuously apply it to her bare thighs, again and again.
Thwack! “Hit. Get away! You had your chance”
As long as the wind was blowing west, it was manageable. When the trades slackened and the warm air rose, creating, the sea breeze, the puamana, the odor of death and decay was a reminder that something terrible had occurred to someone and my job was to find out why, how, and who. I mouth-breathed to stop the involuntary response.
The old time sergeants would light a cigar to overpower the smell of death. The first problem is that it doesn’t work. The second is that the scene is now contaminated by ashes, odors, and molecules that then become confusing variables.
When one encounters a green, black, or purple body, the best thing to do is to mouth breathe for a while until one’s olfactory receptors become overwhelmed and you can breathe and speak normally.
Ben and Jerry, the CID Homicide Detectives, safely and comfortably up on the road called suggestions and encouragement.
“Why don’t you just shoot the little bastards?” yelled Ben.
“Ben, I like mongooses, they’re doing what they are built to do, they are getting the message now, and most important, I’m not going to fuck up this crime scene with mongoose bodily fluids,”
“Bob, standby down there, the FD guys are on their way down with the basket,” Shouted Jerry. Geez, it’s about time I thought. It was now 1600. My watch ended at 1500 and I am due in court at 0800. I did the math and it depressed me.
When the Fire department guys with their big black boots had finally and thoroughly trampled my scene to get the body out I was able to look around. Nothing but larvae.