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"What you’ll find in that report," I said, nodding at the paper. "Is that Mister Lieberman was a heroin addict and had been trading needles with a local necrophile who was found later that following morning engaged in the act. What I did is considered a public service and beneficial to the safety and well being of the community at large."

Reggie looked devastated as he read the second page as well as the coroner’s report. It was as if he were reliving his senior prom all over again, the one I'm sure where he was stood up and humiliated at in those awkward teenage years. "Reg, if you wanna' play with the big boys, that's fine. But make sure you read the whole case before you waste my time on it. Now, do you have business or did you just want to bask in my radiance for a while?"

Wordless and red faced the lanky man stood and made his way for the door. Gladys smiled and asked him to have a nice day. Ignoring her he flung wide the front door and with it the latch on his briefcase, sending his precious papers fluttering off into the morning's breeze. I held my laughter, knowing from his example how karma likes to bite people in the ass when they least expect it. I knew something worse was on the way; I had that feeling deep in my bones. I didn't know what I had done yet to deserve it, but it was coming; a knock on my office door.

- 2 -

"Sergeant Stone," a voice, ancient and familiar rang out as I entered he office. "It’s been a long time."

I smiled looked at the man dressed in the slim black uniform of a Federal Undertaker's Commission special agent. His face was older somehow than I remembered it and his eyes a shade paler but his hair was still as red as a fire engine and the red cross he’d had tattooed onto his throat as part of a drunken bet was still as prominent and bright as ever.

"Corporal Frank Morris," I said as I threw my hand forward in greeting. "How long has it been, Doc?"

"Too long, Sarge!" he said, bypassing my hand and embracing me in front of God and everyone in the office. "And its Captain now." He quickly added.

"No shit?" I asked, ushering him back into my office and into a seat across the desk from my own. "What brings you back to Tennessee? Last I heard you were in Nevada fighting the good fight for every FUCker who stayed on after his hitch was over."

He shook his head and I thought for a moment that his slightly freckled face grew a shade paler. Like a rabbit had run across his grave.

"I wish I were here to reminisce, Sarge." he answered, throwing a packing envelope into the center of the desk. "But this isn’t a social call I’m making."

My smile quickly faded as I reached into the desk and with drew a small silver flask that on most days had just enough vodka to save a man’s soul. By the weight I’d have said there was less than a shot so I dropped it back into the drawer and looked at Frank.

"What’s that?" I asked him about the package on my desk.

"That," he began. "Is going to be the death of me. We’ve been investigating a voodoo cult in central Arkansas since last November and a raid last month produced a warehouse of about three hundred different titles. They’re snuff flicks. A little guy on ghoul action. Some really sick crap and unfortunately we have reason to believe its being manufactured right here in town."

I picked up the envelope and felt the weight of it in my hands. Heavy, rectangular too. I opened the manila package and withdrew the unmarked video tape inside. It had been rewound; how thoughtful. I turned to the tape deck and TV down towards my left but stopped short of starting the video as I saw Doc squirm in his seat.

"You okay," I asked, turning to look at him. "You don't look too swooft."

He shook his head. "I've already suffered through that one twice," and the words escaped him for a moment. "An abomination to God and nature you're puttin' in. I’d like to say it doesn’t get to me anymore but I really hate to lie."

"Is it that bad?" I asked, dying (for lack of a better phrase) to know. I'd seen a lot of new aged snuff flicks, most of them cheap "B" grade porno-slasher films done with a super 8 or a camcorder. A lot of collegiate film students and actresses in training trying to beef up their portfolio and make a quick buck at the same time. It was rare to see the real deal and a good showman could easily fool someone if they knew what to do.

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