Fired

Collinsport. David Silva, who believes that the recent animal attacks, which has left two young women dead, are in fact not animal attacks but rather attacks by a vampire has forgone his investigation of Mimecorp in order to looking into these deaths. In hopes of enlisting the aid of the new medical examiner, he has gone to the morgue and discussed his beliefs with Isabella Collins. Uncertain as to what effect it may bring, but certain that it may bring unwanted attention to her family, nevertheless, Izzy Collins has agreed to accompany him to discuss this possibility with Lieutenant Mills. .

David Silva’s excitement regarding the meeting with Lieutenant Mills quickly dissipated and was replaced with a look of shock, his face turning a bit pale. Their chances of being taken seriously may now be quite damaged by Miss Collins’ choice of apparel as it would appear that she had just stepped off the set of “Gone With the Wind.” She had arrived wearing a flowing red dress under which the swept strongly suggested a petticoat. She carried an umbrella as well. As much as felt he should cancel, there was very little chance of that now. He has already gone to Mills and told her that he and Isabella Collins, the new Medical Examiner, needed to have a talk with her. Too late now he thinks as he clears his throat and says quickly in an aside to Isabella Collins, as he steps over toward her, “I’ll do most of the talking okay?” secretly hoping she will say as little as possible.

She looks at him with a frown.

Isabella Collins had strolled into the main floor of the Collinsport Police station, her hands clasping the sun-blocking umbrella she used during the day. Normally, she left her house very early in the morning and then left very late in the evening, her work being of upmost concern . . . but now, however, this man, this David Silva, he had been so insistent on her joining him as he was determined to talk with the lieutenant, determined to discuss his conjectures with her findings in regards to the two dead women that she could not resist disrupting her routine in order to watch this spectacle.

A train wreck about to happen.

And yet, now — she was more than irritated. Now that she has agreed and changed her schedule, he wants her to remain silent?

She looks away from him.

The truth be known she had arrived solely based upon her own curiosity to see the consequences of his actions as everything told her, from what she knew of Lieutenant Mills, this would not go well. But, then again, there was of course always the opportunity for surprise.

Still, based on his remark, she was more than prepared now to just head down to the morgue . . . let him do all the talking?

Well, if he wanted to do all the talking, then he could fend for himself and she could just walk away when he began to flounder – which of course she knew he would.

He was too obsessed.

He relied too much on emotion and not enough on objective fact.

As she thought, a train wreck about to happen.

Lieutenant Mills sits in her cubical busy re-reading the Providence Medical Examiner’s report as she listens to Mozart.

“Ah, Mozart. What a lovely piece, good choice”, David Silva says as he steps into Mills’ cubicle. He looks around and adjusts his glasses, “Though really, I think you should have a bigger office; it’s bit cramped in here.”

The Lieutenant turns to look at him—he’s nervous.

He sits down in the chair beside her, fidgeting for a moment, as he waits for Mills to ask what this meeting is about.

“We’d have to build a bigger station house to give every officer an office, even St. Clair does not have an office, she uses that big open space,” Lieutenant Mills turns to watch him with interest. “So, how are things on the corporate investigation?”

“No progress yet on the corporate investigation. I’m afraid I got side-tracked by another—ahem . . . another matter entirely, one that I feel it is my duty to bring to your attention.” he says nervously.

“Oh?” She asks.

“It’s. . . um. . . these so called animal attack deaths lately. . .” He ventures nervously, building up his resolve.

“You mean the murders?”

He nods; surprised that she would use that term. “That’s right. The murders.”

“What about them?”

Isabella Collins looks around the cubical totally unconcerned about the looks from the officers passing through the station. She was more concerned with her mental exercise of observing the minute details evident within the cubical and around the Lieutenant’s desk – gleaning now more insight into the Lieutenant. It was all too evident to her trained eye Mills was well educated; came from a middle-class, working family; attended an Ivy League school, on scholarship, either Brown or Harvard, possibility transferred from one to the other, some confusion on that—based on the details available—something happened to make her decide on becoming a police officer; criminology was not her first choice of career; she had been up a bit too late the night before, re-reading the case files; she was hiding a headache . . . she was ambitious . . . but concerned she may not yet be ready for the role that had suddenly been forced upon her – the Acting Chief – were among just the first few observations.

Her violet eyes glanced back for a moment over to David Silva, having observed the slight tug at the corner of the Lieutenant’s mouth, Isabella was well aware that the Lieutenant was only giving him more rope.

“Suppose I tell you exactly what you found.” He says using the same tactic he had used earlier with Isabella Collins, believing that if it has worked once it should work again. “Corpses all so very neatly exsanguinated. Two neat puncture wounds in the juggler. Sometimes more bites. A precision type of kill.”

“Of course there is something more than bites.” Lieutenant Mills replies, crossing her legs and looking at him with a bit of irritation, as if she doesn’t have her own suspicions, it is her case after all. “Animals bite things to eat them, but not to drain them of blood.”

“The puncture wounds are all spaced about the same distance apart as a person’s canine teeth.”

Izzy Collins taks a step closer.

“Hello Miss . . . Collins?” She says well aware of Isabella Collins hovering outside the cubical, turning to raise an eyebrow, “Are you going to the Bangor Opera house?”

David Silva looks at Mills in surprise, “Exactly. There is no animal that so efficiently drains its prey of blood and then leaves all that meat to rot.”

“In fact there is only one animal that does that Detective.” The lieutenant tells him.

Isabella Collins cocked her head at the officer, “Excuse me?” She looks at the Lieutenant with her own raise brow – not at all concealing her irritation at the comment.

“A Human.” Mills continues.

“I beg to differ, Chief. It looks like a human. . ..” He says.

Isabella Collins, standing just outside the cuibcal, watched the conversation between Silva and the Lieutenant with growing disinterest — she had surmised all too correctly, this was nothing more than an exercise in futility. The lieutenant’s mind has closed on the matter—and evidence to the contrary would not dissuade her. Sliva was only hanging himself on a rope growing ever more taunt with each passing moment. And there were far too many other things she could be doing. She would have been better served by just turning and leaving – going down to her office and leave these people to their own opinions of the case. Not that they were incompetent, well, save perhaps for Officer O’Malley, but they were certainly unable to see beyond their predisposed opinions – and to look at the facts.

Lieutenant Mills smiles slightly although not at all amused and rests her elbow on the arm of the chair and her head on her hand, “Go on . . .”

“Could you describe how much blood was extracted from the victims, Miss Collins?” he asks her.

“Yes . . .well to be entirely accurate we’re talking about all the blood, actually.” Isabella Collins replies.

“And isn’t it true that the time of death was always at night. No exceptions?” Silva tries to lead her to the right conclusion.

“Yes—that is true,” Izzy said outwardly calm, but now with a bit of growing interest as she had an opportunity to relate known facts, “However most murders appear at night regardless – only 10% of all known serial killers have ever killed during the day.”

“True.” He says, not wanting this distraction. “But how many humans so precisely bite their victims and are somehow able to suck out all of their blood without vomiting in the process?”

“And even among those few who purposely committed their crime during the day light hours the percentage is effected by the fact they killed some merely out of opportunity.” Izzy Collins continued to inform him.

“And—so your point Detective Silva?” the Lieutenant said redirecting the conversation back to Silva – more than well aware that Miss Collins was accurate with her statistics.

“Also, there are five murderers on record in the United States who took on vampire like persona’s to enact their killings.” Izzy concluded, having done her research.

“Many more than 5, Miss Collins.” Silva says with exasperation “It’s just that 99.9% of vampire reports are disregarded as fantasy or insanity.” Suppressing his anger as he did not want to be distracted now with facts about serial killers. Well, at least human serial killers.

Lieutenant Mills sighs, “Present your case Detective.”

“There are only five on record as serial killers, I believe.” Izzy points out adamantly.

“Oh, well there may be many more for one time kills and even more owing to the subculture of vampirism and role play.” He says as an aside, wanting to move on to his theory of the case.

Lieutenant Mills looks at them, why did they not have this conversation in the basement – the break room?

David Silva nods. “So then, logically – notice I say logically – we should have two hypotheses. The killer is either a person who wants to emulate a vampire. Or it is a vampire. While the razor logic would say we must choose the former, again, how likely is it that a human could have pulled off these attacks so well, drank ALL of the blood, and yet remain unknown, no trail, no witnesses?”

“Well that’s a very interesting theory Detective Silva, but there is just one teeny bit of a flaw in your logic.” And she stands up abruptly and yells into Silva’s face loud enough to get the attention of everyone in the building. “VAMPIRES! DON’T EXIST!”

He sits in silence.

The Lieutenant stands with her hands on her hips, “Now, isn’t the most logical explanation that the blood was collected and taken away? Rather than having a mythological beast out of the Balkans coming to life from fairytales!”

Isabella Collins sighs keenly, “There is on more thing I discovered about the body . . . “

Silva recoils from her in shock, not falling out of his chair only because there is not enough room to do so. “P—Please, Mills. . .”

“I will not have my intelligence, nor the intelligence of this police department insulted by such idiotic behavior!” She tells him very irritated, “Not only have you disregarded your own assignment, the one that YOU requested . . .

Isabella stands quietly as she waits for the two to finish.

“BUT! You felt it necessary to work on MY assignment, and break the first major rule that you agreed to when I agreed to hire you!”

“Please, back me up, Miss Collins.” he wipes his brow and looks to her.

“Well—I reexamined the original body after our last meeting in my office . . . “ Izzy says more stating the facts than coming to Silva’s defense.

“Actually, St. Clair hired me, Officer Mills. Can you fire me?” Silva asks interrupting Miss Collins.

Lieutenant Mills now turns her fiery stare on Collins, “Yes—and you found what Miss Collins?”

“Detective Frid had mentioned that trace amounts of saliva around the wounds of those in Providence. So I took a closer look and found something interesting. I too found traces. The saliva was fresh. The chemical balance readings done by the police lab indicates that it was applied at the time of the murder however, the salvia contained no living human DNA cells. In short it appears it might have been dead spit. Which is odd enough, considering that dead people can not produce saliva so the DNA found in the “spit” was dead which was why I couldn’t run it through Co Dex to find a match.

“I don’t care if it was radioactive and glowing green Collins! A vampire is not the logical jump to make!”

David reaches now into his jacket pocket and withdraws a small leather album. It contains photographs. Very unusual photographs: fang wounds. But then microphotographs of blood under a high-powered microscope. “Please, examine these, ” he says as he hands the album to Isabella Collins. He hopes she will look over his findings, that the microphotographs are of blood that is highly abnormal, with an unaccountable number of platelets, doubled red blood cells, and an extra cell that should not exist in human blood. “As I”, he gets up the nerve to say it, “took those blood samples from a vampire. I have empirical data—I know they exist.”

But before Miss Collins can take the album, Lieutenant Mills suddenly grabs it out of his hand, and turns now to look at Silva, her finger pointing at him, her eyes no longer irritated but aflame with anger, “And YOU! Acting Detective David Silva . . . You are not a cop. You are a fraud! A carnival charlatan! A police officer’s life is based on facts, not fantasy. Did you even graduate from a Police academy? or did you use that time to look up pictures of UFO’s on your mom’s computer in the basement!? I have no need for crazies on my team and I don’t care WHAT St. Clair says— you sir, you are fired!”

He looks at her – then at his album.

Lieutenant Mills holds out her hand, “Give me your badge.”

Isabella Collins, more than well aware this was going to be the obvious outcome of his foolhardy enterprise – she should have never let this Silva talk her coming up her to talk to Mills. Officer Anderson had told her things were different when St. Clair was running the department. Looser, less formal. Although she had been appointed by the Chief Medical Examiner of the State of Maine, it had been at the request of Chief St. Clair, along with members of the town council, and yet, she had never met the woman. From all reports given she felt certain she would very much like to . . . not to take anything away from Mills – it wasn’t like she was unskilled – no far from it. She was very intelligent – more so than several of the officers she had met on CPD.

It was just that she was wound a bit too tight.

“I expected as much. I was fired in Seattle after I couldn’t stand the lies anymore. After I refused to write animal attack and wrote the truth: vampire assault. David Silva tells her, “I am not a fake, and neither is that evidence. I collected samples from a vampire in Seattle. He was brought in as ‘dead with a bullet in his brain. Then later he got up off the table . . .”

“I don’t care Silva. You have read far too many novels, seen far too many movies. You are not a cop. Now give me your badge, and get out.”

“I made a deal with him. If I would supply him with blood, he would allow me to study him. I still have actual frozen samples.”

Lieutenant Mills, “I am not going to stand here listening to this insanity Silva, I told you, I don’t want to here any more about these delusions. Now please leave, NOW!!!”

Everything has come to a halt in the Station as they all watch the confrontation.

“Fine!” He hands her the badge. “I don’t need a badge to investigate that Mimecorp. You’re just making it a lot harder on me, but I will anyway. And you are making a HUGE mistake. Even if I am crazy, which I am not, this killer will strike again. And YOU will find that neither your guns not your arrogance can stop him!”

Lieutenant Mills takes the badge and Silva’s evidence and locks them in one of her filing cabinets; “Now get your sorry sack-o-s**t face out of here.”

Isabella Collins steps out of the way to let him walk past her.

“How many people need die before you will put the public’s safety above your own ignorant over bloated ego?” He snaps turning back to have one more chance to get her to understand, “You will see what a mistake you have made – after it’s too late.” He points a finger at her. “You will be the sorry one, and the deaths will be on your head!”

He looks at Izzy Collins and then storms out.

She looks at him going through the door—he did not listen to her when she had told him the foolhardiness of his actions.

Lieutenant Mills shakes her head and with a fist clenched, turns to look at the Medical Examiner, “Collins! If I see that man anywhere near the morgue, you will be held accountable. Because you found a little saliva minus the cells, which is water, on the wounds means Jack f**king squat.”

“Well, when all things point to the impossible, than the impossible becomes possible.”

“As to the impossible, Miss Collins, as a Medical Examiner I would think you would agree that we will not be pointing to the impossible just because there are those who foolishly believe the impossible is possible! What we are dealing with here is someone trying to make us think that a vampire did it.” She says now, certain to be overheard as she wants to stop all this ‘history’ talk, it is bad enough in the town, but if it is here inside the department, “Someone is trying to make us think that the impossible is possible because there are idiots that abound which will believe in any cock-and-bull story, like him!” She points to the door Silva has just departed.

Izzy Collins took a step forward, “With all due respect Miss . . . Lieutenant, it was idiots like him who made electricity and allowed men to fly. I find it hard to believe that if once upon a time people could believe in Gods that played with men like toys, why its so hard to believe in vampires and ghosts.”

“Because we do not live in a world in which there are Norse goddess or thunderbolt hurling Zeuses.” The Lieutenant tells her, “We know them to be stories, myths, fabrications, Collins. We live in a world were those men discovered electricity, and created powered flight. A world of science and logic, and reason, not superstition and myth. This is not the Dark Ages. Now if you mention it again, and if you even say the word vampire in my presence again, I WILL call Hospital Street, and speak to the Chief Medical Examiner in Augusta, and ask them to find someone to replace you. Is that understood?

Isabella looks at her.

“Is that understood?”

She stands silent.

“Collins?

She turns her umbrella clasped between her long fingers and nods ever so slightly.

“I don’t blame you,” Lieutenant Mills says with a sigh, “I know he got you all worked up about that s**t. But let it be a lesson. We need to deal with science and fact – not Tarot cards and Ouija boards and ghost and vampires.”

She looks out her cubical, “Ok, back to work. All of you.”

This crazy town is going to drive her insane, she thinks as she sits back down in her chair, and turns the radio up several decibels to listen to Mozart’s Requiem.

Cue Music End Of Episode