I sense something against my face, pushing my ear, now my neck.
What time is it?
I filed my report at three; is it daylight already?  Another gray morning?

“Go away!  Let me sleep.”

Her thong panties were around her legs; she was lying on the floor.  He half turned, looking at me.  My gun is still in my holster, snapped, I didn’t expect this.   Always expect the unexpected they say.  What is happening?  Witnesses are not very good witnesses and I am not a good witness.   The lieutenant ’ll ream me again–this is happening too often.  What happened?

Two cars collided and there are half dozen witnesses and a dozen scenarios.  I guess it depends on your point of view at the time and time changes.  The fourth-dimension queers it all up.  Two of them said they saw the whole thing and their stories don’t match up.  V1 was doing this or that and V2 was doing that or this and so it goes.

They were black–the panties, she was white, he was white, his glasses askew and his hair, well it must have been a bad hair day.  It was dark brown.  What happened next?  I saw it all, it was shadowy or maybe there was some light.  Gray now like yesterday morning was, foggy too!  Did I feed the cat?

‘Urldine’s Plumbing’ it said on the truck, one of those big things like a UPS truck.  It was brown too, kind of a rusty brown.  He couldn’t be Urldine.  No, he’s the perp.  Victim 1-that’s her, and then vic. 2 and vic. 3 were the man and the boy.  Blood!  Damn!   That’s the second time this week that I’ve ruined a pair of pants.  I heard that saliva will take blood out.  The saliva must be from the person who’s bleeding.  Fat chance that I will get a cup of saliva and from whom?  Who is bleeding?

Urldine is on the floor – that can’t be the perp’s name but no time to verify that.  He’s cooperating, face down, hands behind his back.  At least I can get my cuffs out.  Next time I will come in with my gun in my hand.  Who knew?  I heard it was just a family feud.

She’s at it again, nudging me in the face.  I scrunch open an eye and quickly close it, dawn, gray.

“Go back to sleep!”

The report, did I remember to include Jaime’s name?  The truck with Urldine’s Plumbing was reported stolen.  On yea.  Urldine called in and said the truck was missing.  We passed it going south on the 57 and by the time we turned around on the Chapman ramps we lost it.  Saw it heading west from the Ball overpass.  We swung west on Katella, lights flashing.

“Damn it! Let me sleep.  Go away; no love making now, let me sleep.”

The blood, who’s blood is it?  Got to get some saliva, clean my pants.  It’s all over.  Urldine, or what ever his name is, has some on his hands.  Vic 1 is catatonic, just staring, she’s not moving.  Scared, shock maybe, no blood?  A cat, a tortoise shell, all scrunched up in the corner.  Looking at me – ferocious eyes.  Rumbling, hear rumbling like a motor.

“Go away, I want to sleep!”

Jaime found vic 2 and vic 3 locked in the next room.  They locked themselves in?  What is happening?  Lots of blood!  Who is it coming from?

Dispatch said the truck was reported stolen and then it was not stolen.  Something about Urldine upset because he didn’t love her any more.  Didn’t catch his name.  We were in hot pursuit at the time and swinging back and forth, trying to catch a glimpse of it.  He lost us.  It was thirty minutes before we spotted it parked in front of a split-level with the garage door open.  Two cars in it.

He was fixing the washing machine and had to get a part.  It wasn’t in his truck- Urldine’s truck.  The truck was full of army stuff.  Camouflaged fatigues, helmets, gas masks, and belts with all those pockets.  No plumbing parts, not the right one anyway.  He was upset.  He was trying to fix the watch-a-ma-call-it.  How do you spell that?  My report will be shot down for bad spelling.   He’s moving. He’s not going anywhere.

Jaime’s getting statements from vic 2.  Why isn’t he helping her?  Is she ok?  Feels hot and sticky, more blood?  Now it’s on my face.  At least it will wash off.  The washing machine, what was wrong with it?  Cat still eyeing me.  The motor, maybe it was the motor, it is getting louder now.  Couldn’t have been the motor that was broken.  It is going full speed.  Like it’s right in my ear.

Vic 2 is laughing.  If she is his wife then why is he laughing?  Why isn’t Jaime calling for the paramedics?  I may need them—it’s all over my face now.  Feels like sandpaper.  I haven’t shaved since yesterday morning.  It was a gray morning.  Followed by some sun by mid-afternoon.  No rain in sight.  We need rain.  Won’t snow, never snows here, well once when I was a kid over at Coliseum Street School.  Wonder if that school still is there.  Only two more years and I can hang up the badge.  They changed Santa Barbara Blvd. to Martin Luther King Blvd.  Strange, where is the blood coming from?  Hot, sticky, on my nose—like sandpaper.  Ugh!

The lieutenant will have my tail for not finding where the blood is coming from.  Lots of things get changed and yet so much is the same.  I still can’t get an “A” on my reports like Bill does.  He went to UCLA.  I didn’t make it.  Sproul hall was coed, girls on every other floor.  I was in love so it didn’t matter.  We ran around it once then showered and he walked me around the med center.  Humongous!  No, not him!

Blood!  It has to be the cat—I don’t want its saliva.  What is wrong with the cat?  Did he kill it and she went berserk?  Why kill the cat?  Is it vic. 4?  It is still staring at me.  It blinked!  And that motor and the sticky stuff on my face- the sandpaper is pink!

My eyes open—“Arghhhh.” 

I’m going to kill that damned cat.  Shit–this story isn’t finished!