Finnegan’s Wake

by Max St. Pierre

The smell of mahogany and fine teas and cigars instantly penetrated his nose as he walked toward the deceased. 

“The victims name is Rachel Lowdronski, she is 36, single”

* * * *

“You see, right here, that’s the point of entry”

Lord Finnegan was the best detective this side of the Mississippi, he had been sent on location to little Berkeley CA.  A recent string of murders had sent the city in shambles and no one was able to get even a suspect or a theory as to these murders.

The murders that were to plague the fair city of Berkeley were all very malicious and with an upfront kind of brutality that brought knots to the of stomachs of the detectives not as experienced as Finnegan.

“The bullet entered her chest and exited her back, just squeaking through the rib cage and would fall to the ground just over here…” he paused a minuet as he pretended to search for the bullet.  He knew where it was, he knew more than anybody else.

The other detectives in the room were astonished, never before had they seen someone tear apart a crime scene in the manor that he did, he knew everything to be know..

“It was a 9mm.”

He knew things even before examining the evidence.  Why one might ask? Well the answer is simpler than you would think, for he s a wizard, yes, a wizard.  This was the prime reason he was the best detective, he knew everything there was to know, as soon as he entered a room, he knew the killer, he knew how it happened and he knew the victim.  At a young age he swore to his mother, who was not one of magical ability, that he would use his gift for only good, to him that meant being the best detective this world would ever know.

Alright the hard part is over, now how do I convince these bloody wankers who the criminal is, all the clues point south, how in bloody hell do I steer them north!

“Sir, we found this!”

 Pointing to lock of hair that rest on the ground.

“Oh that’s bloody perfect, take that to the lab NOW and get a DNA sample, we can’t wait for the night vulture to strike again”

Finnegan had donned a name for the killer, the night vulture, as all the murders were committed at night and the police chief demanded a code name for the killer.

* * * *

I’m 2003 years old, how do I still do this? I am getting old!  These cases still seem to elude me; how the hell do I get these guys to follow me?

Lord Finnegan has been alive since the times of Jesus, as you may already know wizards live to be very old, while not immortal, they have unusually long life spans.

As a young lad growing up in the British countryside, Finnegan was exposed to only his surroundings, a farm, a small town, and of course his house.  Here is where Finnegan would notice his ability. 

* * * *

FIVE DAYS AFTER THE MURDER

“Is this all the suspects we round up, three bloody dead-beats, THIS MAN IS HOMELESS? We have no leads!”

Finnegan yelled to his coworkers.

You see, he knew just from seeing them that all the suspects pulled in where innocent, he knew that for him to find the killer, he had to see him, he had to confront him with his spirit. 

The hardest part of Finnegan’s life was simply convincing his fellow detectives that these men were innocent, he could not just say ‘I know because I know!’ that is neither detective work nor concrete evidence.  His life struggle was to prove himself right without revealing his ability to his colleagues.  If he were to reveal his true powers as a detective the damage would be catastrophic.  Not only would he lose his license but would be deemed a crazy, everybody he ever locked up would be under review and worst case, he is burned at the stake!

“We need a lead! Was there no evidence left at the crime scene?” The lord belted to his disciples.

“Only these glasses, and a shoe print.” 

            “Well that’s not quite enough is that, what size shoe was that? It matches any of the suspects? And those glasses, male or female?”

“Well the foot print is a size match but not the prescription, that is to your ‘bum’ so I don’t know if that is worth perusing…but the glasses were male, no match in prescription to our line up.”

“Blast! Hey see if Robert Scrowning uses glasses, he works in the cannery across the street from where she was killed.”

“Ten four.”

FOUR DAYS LATER

Ok, we finally got a solid lead on these guys, he actually in the station, now I just need to prove motive and I can get back on my way…

The Lord was able to get Robert into an interview room.  Here he would tear him apart with scene recreation and some of the best interrogation techniques this side of Guantanamo.

“So what were you doing at the time of the murder”?

“I was leaving work, as I always do at six on Fridays, leaving work and heading to my car, just the same usual thing.”

“Yes you were leaving work, but then, just as you got to your car, a woman pulls up, she’s attractive, drives a nice car, your intrigued.  Naturally as men will do you proceed the chase, making talk and what not, but she’s not having it is she…”

“Finnegan? Is that what the hell they call you, your insane, this is must be illegal in some way, yes a women pulled up and yes I talked to her but then as you said she ‘wasn’t having it’ so I took my ass into my car and went home.”

“Alright I see, well that’s not what actually happened and you know damn straight I am right, you beat her, you fucking killed her, went home! You stupid man”

“This is inappropriate and completely unethical”

Interjected the lawyer hired by Robert

“Come on Finnegan, we know your ethics and we all know how you operate but leave my client alone, if you find so real evidence then please bring us back but until then…leave us out of this, lets go.”

And like that Finnegan lost his man, like that he knew that this case would be among his hardest, Robert had left little evidence at the crime scene, all they had was a pair of glasses and a shoe print, that would never be enough for a conviction, Finnegan needed to keep trying.

This is damn near unsolvable!!! This is nearly as bad as The Ripper known as Jack, for that one I could not solve…Again the Zodiac case, all cluus point wrong all clues are are wrong.

At this point the Lord knew the case would be hard, yet possible to solve.  He knew that there was little chance of any last minute evidence turning up.  He knew that in order to be victorious in his mission it would take a confession.  Being a wise man with moral bounds the Lord could not ‘force’ a confession out of his subjects, if he did not get it, he would force himself to leave the situation and throw the case, until hopefully evidence would turn up.

Only one option remains: create evidence, that I did only once…but even with all that they still found OJ innocent, honestly the glove, the knife, I spelled it out.  I cannot do that again…this bastard might walk out.s