The
number 5 bus is the only bus that passes by Old Wood Lane, and then it's only
every half hour. The already dilapidated neighborhood was sparsely populated
thanks to the Woodland riots of 2013, and the local drug lord, an old ginger
cowboy who called himself Yosemite Sam, prevented anyone from moving in or out
without his express permission.
Bugs watched the bus drive through, make a quick stop, and
then take off again, engine groaning. The one passenger who had gotten off was
a little old granny, whom Bugs thought he recognized but couldn't make out any
details of her face or figure since the late night fog was rolling in off the
bay. He shrugged, sipped his carrot spice latte, and turned back to the
flashing red and blue lights of the crime scene.
He sidled up beside Tweety Bird, M.D., giving him an obligatory
but world weary nod.
"Bled out. There's a deep laceration on both thighs,
probably severed the femoral arteries. He would'a been unconscious in seconds,
painlessly bleeding out after a minute," Tweety said.
"Life's little mercies. Any I.D.?"
A nearby constable spoke up then, a short, girthy fellow
with pink ruddy cheeks. "Y-yes sir," he said,
"He-he-huh-he was
carrying a wuh-wuh-wallet." Bugs reached out and took it from the cop.
"Hi-hi-hi name wuh-wuh-was-"
"Sylvester James Pussycat, Sr." Bugs finished for
him, impatient.
Tweety looked up quickly from his work with the deceased.
"Say that again?"
"Sylvester James Pussycat. Senior. Why, ya' knew
'im?"
Tweety's face went white.
"C'mon, what's up Doc?"
"I thought there was something familiar about him, but
I never realized…"
"Realized what? C'mon, you're killing me here."
"This is my old schoolmate. I haven't seen him in
years, not since high school graduation. He would… bully me, chase me around,
threatened to eat me once even."
"Well, looks like someone got the best of 'im for ya."
Tweety was about to respond when another constable showed
up. "Detective Bunny sir, I think you'll want to see this. I think the
body was left here, but died somewhere else."
The constable led Bugs to a nearby garage, where the door
had been torn away and probably used for scrap metal some time ago. As he
entered, Bugs noticed the definite trail of blood starting in spurts, smudged
in areas, and then a full on streak as it got closer to the pool of coagulated
blood in the middle of the floor.
"Someone definitely moved the body," Bugs
commented.
"No kidding, but, sir, you're going to be more
interested in this." The constable indicated a spot near the north end of
the blood puddle.
Bugs' own blood ran cold as he read what was scrawled in the
dark red blood of Sylvester J. Pussycat.
"Who else has been in here? Has this
been here the whole time?"
"Only me and constable Porcine have been in here since
the call came out Detective Bunny."
"This isn't good." Bugs lost his appetite for his
latte as he read again the name of his ex-wife scrawled in blood,
"Lola."
