Before Wolf realized what he was doing, he lunged for Detective Brown. The two detectives began tussling, with Wolf wrapping his hands around Brown’s neck, trying to choke the breath from his body.
“Enough!” Captain Marx tried to pull the men apart, but they were locked onto each other like pit bulls. It took the combined efforts of Marx and Alvarez to separate them.
“Smile, officers!” someone called out. When they turned around, a photographer who had slipped into the church began snapping pictures.
“Who let him in here? Get that son of a bitch out of here and confiscate that damn camera!” Captain Marx raged. Two uniformed officers grabbed the photographer and dragged him from the church. “Have the both of you lost your fucking minds?” He looked back and forth between the two scrapping detectives.
“Your boy has got a smart fucking mouth,” Wolf said, staring daggers at Detective Brown.
“Then why don’t you come and close it for me?” Brown challenged.
Wolf took a step in his direction, but Captain Marx blocked his path. “Don’t push your luck with me, Jimmy. I’m still your boss.”
“James,” Wolf grumbled.
Captain Marx ignored him and turned to Detective Brown. “Why don’t you take a walk and cool off.”
“You can’t be serious,” Detective Brown said.
“Captain, with all due respect, this is our crime scene,” Detective Alvarez declared.
“And it’ll still be your crime scene when you get back,” Captain Marx replied.
Detective Alvarez wanted to argue, but he knew it would be pointless: Marx outranked him. “Come on, you know we ain’t got no wins when it comes to the captain’s pet dog.” He patted Detective Brown on the chest, and led him to the door.
Detective Brown was so angry that you could almost see steam rising from his head. Before he left the chapel, he stopped short and stared at Wolf. “One of these days the captain isn’t going to be around to save your ass. If you’re not careful, you might find yourself the victim of friendly fire, just like Dutton.” He winked at Wolf and left the room.
“Are you intentionally trying to get yourself kicked off the force?” Captain Marx asked Wolf once the other two detectives were gone.
“Hey, if I have to lose my job because I won’t let assholes like Brown disrespect me, then so be it.”
“So what, you gonna sock everybody in the chin who says something hurtful to you? If that’s the case, you’re gonna have a whole lot of fighting to do.”
Wolf snorted. “I been fighting all my life, that ain’t nothing new. You of all people should know that.”
“Yeah, kid. You’re a fighter, and I’ve seen you put quite a few people on their asses, but there’s one you’ve never been able to beat.”
“Bullshit, I never lost a fight in the ring!” Wolf countered.
Captain Marx placed his hand on Wolf’s shoulder. “I’m not talking about the ring, kid, I’m talking about that ghost you keep swinging at and can’t seem to hit. When are you gonna let it go?”
Wolf wished it was that simple. He wished he could put what he was feeling in the bottom of a file cabinet with the official report, that he could wash away the evils of the job in booze like most cops did, but blood didn’t wash off him so easily. “I know you didn’t call me here to discuss my service record. What gives, captain?” he asked, ignoring the question.
“I was hoping you could help give me some insight into what we’re dealing with.” Captain Marx nodded toward the dead body. “At a glance, how would you call it?”
Wolf walked to the edge of the police tape and examined the body. “The blood splatter patterns are what I would look at first,” Wolf began. “You see the way the ones around the body are drying already and the ones pooling under the body are still wet? They’re older, and from the way they’re spraying away from the body,” he pointed to the faint splotches of blood just beyond the police tape, “I’d say he was hung on the chains while he was still alive. His throat was cut later. The killer wanted him to suffer, which means it was personal and not some random killing.”
Captain Marx nodded. “Very good. It’s nice to know that there’s still a cop hiding somewhere beneath that chip you’re carrying around on your shoulder.”
“Okay, so somebody whacked a priest, my heart is bleeding. I still don’t see what it has to do with me. Like your boys said, I’m narcotics and they’re homicide. Let those two idiots work the case.”
“They are going to work the case, but I need you to solve it. And the quicker the better,” Captain Marx said with a nervous edge to his voice.
Wolf picked up on his superior’s uneasiness. “Captain, what is it about this murder that you aren’t telling me?”
“I fear that the chickens may be coming home to roost,” Captain Marx answered in a defeated tone. Before explaining further, he led Wolf to a quiet corner away from the crime scene. He spared a glance over his shoulder before reaching into his pocket and producing a plastic baggie, which he discretely passed to Wolf.
Wolf examined the strange flower inside. It looked almost like a water lily, only it was as black as night. “What is it?”
“Temporarily misplaced evidence,” Captain Marx said with a sly grin. “It’s a Nelumbo lutea, also known as the American lotus.”
“I’ve seen lotuses before, but never a black one.” Wolf handed the flower back to Captain Marx.
“I have, and I’ve prayed that I’d never see one again. I’ve only seen one up close once in my life before this, and it was at the scene of a multiple homicide, even more fucked up than this one. We were looking for a little girl who had been kidnapped by a Mexican cartel. Thanks to an anonymous tip we were able to track them to a warehouse out near the airport. Now keep in mind that these were highly trained and ruthless killers, so when we go in we’re already expecting the worst, but none of us expected what we encountered when we got inside.”
“Did it get messy?”
Captain Marx laughed. “That’s just it. We were able to put it to bed without firing a single shot, thanks to that little black flower.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Neither did we. When we rushed the warehouse, instead of finding the dozen or so shooters we’d prepared for, we found a warehouse full of corpses. There were eight or nine of them all together, all gutted and hung from the ceiling by chains like cattle. Same as Father Fleming.”
“And the girl?” Wolf asked.
“Physically, she was fine except for the fact that she was covered in blood. Mentally, she was stir-fried. It was days before we could get her to do anything besides mumble incoherently in Spanish. When we were finally able to question her, she had quite a story to tell. She said that the Angel of Death had come and killed the men.”
“So you mean to say that one person came in and took out a room full of armed cartel gunmen?”
“Sounded like a tall tale to me too, until I asked her to describe the Angel of Death, and all she would say was, El Loto Negro.”
“The Black Lotus,” Wolf translated, drawing on his high school Spanish skills. Something about the name sounded familiar, but he wasn’t sure why.
“Right,” Captain Marx nodded. “I did some digging and found a few other cases that mentioned a black flower at the scene of the crime. Just about all the victims had been criminals of some sort, or had some black mark on their record. The causes of death were different, but there was a flower at every scene.”
“So,