Kill Floor

High-velocity blood splatter decorated a nearby wall an like abstract painting. Three bodies lay sprawled on hard-wood flooring, trails of crimson creeped slowly along grooves in the boards. Local CSIs (Crime Scene Investigators) were busy gathering every detail ~ print, fiber, hair, dirt samples -- anything that could lead investigators to who - or whom - may have committed such an intimate murder.1

While cause of death was quite obvious to all present, procedure called for Johnson County's coroner, Mike Deacon, to "officially" determine time and initial analysis for cause of death. Mike loved his job, a PhD with "patients that never complained" (a joke he would often tell), but on nights like these -- he swears even the dead can talk when death come so brutally. Passing under tape reading "Police Scene - Do Not Cross," one look told him he was in for a long conversation...2

"Hi Doc, glad you could make it!" Lead CSI, Pete Williams -- a warm, happy guy, destined to be a Wal*Mart greeter when he grew up.... "We've got three just inside, they've had a bit too much and need a designated driver -- got any room?"3

Shaking his head, like so many times before, Mike responded, "Pete.... Why me? I'm always the designated driver, I never get any fun...." He kneeled before "Body No. 1," closely examining what's left of an adult male's face, he pondered momentarily. "I think I'm glad I missed this party ~ poor guy's definitely had one too many."4

"Cause of death?" Pete inquired, although pretty sure of Mike's response.5

"Blunt force trauma."6

"Blunt...." Pete paused for a moment. "Could such a crime be done gently?"7

~♠~8

Monty Huggins was a quiet man, kept to himself, went to bed early every night, never even played his radio loud. A kill-floor worker at a local beef distributor, Monty had one philosophy: one blow/one kill. Work was routine, with weekly (weakly?) pay. Desensitized to blood and brain matter, he enjoyed a good steak, "Rare, without steak-sauce, please" -- sometimes wondering if he'd possibly killed the cow, himself.9

Boredom had found its way into Monty's life, gripping his neck gently - almost seductively - it begged for a break from his redundant disposition.... Fantasies of murder took flight, like gore-fest midnight movies playing over and over in his mind. He laughed while dreaming up ways death could be inflicted with his hammer -- all of them quite messy, most assuredly. Monty had never really thought about actually harming anyone, but his imagination was rather vivid.10

Idle hands sought ways to pass time, routine had become...routine. Television no longer filled voids in Monty's dull existence, lack of friends or companionship only created more holes. He began taking his beloved hammer, his only friend, home after work. For hours he'd sit at the kitchen table, legs propped up, hammer on his lap, imagining his grizzly ideas for death coming to life. So alive were his thoughts that joy sparked within ~ Monty actually smiled!11

He stood, waved the hammer about, striking imaginary targets.... His eyes beamed with excitement, watching faceless "people" fall before him. Caught up in his ethereal world, slaying man, woman and child, Monty failed to realize he was making a bit of noise. A knock at his front door jarred him back into mundane reality. Irritated, Monty proceeded towards the door.12

"I'm coming," Monty grumbled, "keep your pants on!" Hammer in hand, he opened the door. "What?!"13

Startled by such a greeting, his neighbor had come by to ask about the commotion, if everything was alright.... Sensing this wasn't the case, the neighbor turned cautiously, looking towards his wife and son. "I-I'm sorry if I'm interrupting.... W-we heard noise and thought you might need a hand with something...."14

Monty looked at his hammer, clutching it tightly. "No, no...." he mumbled through clenched teeth, "I'm fine."15

"Well, okay, if you --"16

Without warning, Monty's hammer flew and hit the door with tremendous force, slamming it shut. With that, he went to his living room and flipped on the TV. His neighbor's intrusion zapped his joy, dark thoughts then ran rampant through his brain. Chugging an ice-cold beer from the fridge did nothing to calm his nerves.17

~♠~18

"Three victims," Mike said, pausing to look the scene over, "all struck in the left temple with what appears to be a large, blunt object ~ death was instantaneous."19

"Any signs of multiple fractures, attackers?"20

"Well, Pete, I can't be certain until we get our guests back to my place...but from initial examination I'd say all were killed with one direct blow, and more likely from one assailant."21

Tracing invisible footsteps, Pete began walking out the attack. "The adult male, presumably the father and husband, answered the door...." Pete paused to mime the door being opened. "One could imagine a brief argument, followed swiftly by the initial assault." A fellow CSI took notes, sketched a diagram of the room. "Our attacker either knew of others in the apartment," Pete continued, "or...heard them? The adult female and young male are together, my guess is they tried hiding after witnessing the male's death..."22

~♠~23

Adrenaline rushed through Monty's body as he watched his neighbor fall at his feet. Blood, brain matter splattered on the door.... A scream from inside the apartment snapped his euphoria. Bloody hammer clenched at his side, he proceeded towards the sound. Before him cowered a woman in her thirties and a boy not more than eleven. Eyes ablaze with fury and blood, he lifted his hammer....24

~♠~25

"Victims 2 and 3 appear to have died in crouching positions," Mike continued, "but I'm guessing the assailant probably had better leverage with lower targets. These two seem to have deeper, more brutal points of impact."26

Pete walked over, kneeled next to the bodied for closer inspection. "I'll have to agree with you on that. If only for a split second, these two suffered more than the first."27

"Mike! Doc!" -- the voice called from an apartment down the corridor. The two were greeted by a junior CSI. "Inside, look -- I'm pretty sure this is related to next door...."28

~♠~29

Reality revealed itself momentarily, opening Monty's eyes to what he had done. Panicking, he hid in his apartment, trying to decide what to do. Realizing he was facing death if caught, he stood in front of the full-length mirror on his coat closet, staring himself in the eyes, hammer clutched in both hands....30

~♠~ 31

Before Mike and Pete, slumped against the wall, was Monty, facing the mirror. A rather large...blunt...hammer was lodged in his forehead, bloody hands in his lap. Both men gasped in shock and awe of Monty's final act.32

"Blunt force trauma, Mike?" Pete asked, almost facetiously.33

"Quite blunt." Mike routinely checked Monty's pulse, nothing. "I guess I better alert the Missus, looks like we've got four guests tonight."34

Pete stood quiet for a brief moment, studying Monty. "The human mind never ceases to amaze me. What could have possibly set him off, to lash out so violently on his neighbors and then on himself?"35

"My friend," Mike responded, "that's why you're paid the big bucks -- I'm not paid to understand why, just how...." The two exchange glances. "I think dinner's getting cold," Mike continued, "let's get these fine folks in the car -- if I'm late, my wife will kill me."36