exsiccate
to dry or remove the moisture from, as a substance.
to dry up, as moisture.
to dry up.
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Detective Harris kept a close eye on the building as he was guided to the crime scene. In 30 years on the force, he had learned that crime scenes could easily go passed the yellow tape. He passively listened to the briefing the cop escorting him was giving. So far none of it was particularly relevant.
“Now the body.” The officer said. “That’s where things get weird. A lot of the boys think it looks like a vampire got to it. Me? I think it’s more like a mummy.”
Harris grumbled. “Don’t bring in fake things into a crime scene. It doesn’t make for a very good look.”
“Mummies exist.” The officer said. “But you’ll see what I mean when we get there. It’s weird.”
“So you said, but you haven’t said how yet.”
They rounded a corner. There was a room blocked off by police tape. A few beat cops stood by the wall. Neither of them looked very happy with their current station. Harris and the officer approached.
“You can see for yourself.” The officer said.
The two of them ducked under the tape, drawing little more than idle glances from the guards. Harris would have to make sure those two knew how important keeping watch over a crime scene was. But that was for later. He took a look around the apartment. It was oddly clean. Not a speck of blood anywhere, nor was there anything broken.
The only thing that said a crime had taken place was the body, which was slumped against a wall. And Harris immediately knew what the officer meant by mummy. The body was a desiccated husk. It was like every drop of fluid had been sucked out of it. Harris approached, keeping a cautious distance. One of the CSI people approached.
“Any wounds?” Harris asked in lieu of greeting.
“Just one, detective.” The CSI said. “A small hole in the exact center of the torso. And I mean that’s the only wound. At least, that’s all we can find without a more careful examination. No bruising, no lacerations. Just that one puncture wound.”
“Hm. Anything else of note?”
“Not a thing. And I mean that literally. There’s nothing off about the apartment. At all. Not signs of a struggle, nothing missing.” The CSI paused. “Well, actually, there is one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“There’s no fingerprints anywhere. There is some signs that they’ve been wiped clean, but nothing concrete. And it’s everywhere in the apartment. Not a single print in the entire place. We only know who the victim is because he had some ID on him. In a wallet that was not stolen.”
Harris stood and looked around the room. A smile slowly crossed his face.
“Do you know how long I’ve been on the force?”
“No?”
“Thirty years. Been a detective for twenty of them. In that time, I’ve seen things that make horror movies look tame. But I’ve never seen anything like this.”
“Detective?”
“I want to see everything you have so far. This could be the first really interesting case I’ve had in years, and I’m damn well going to do it right.”
**********************************
Nothing quite like a new way to kill people to get the attention of a jaded, older detective, is there?
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