I smiled. Who else gets shit on by humans and helped out by the dead? Just me. I started the car and left town thinking about the stupid story the general told me about the bugs and the garden. I guess it was a good analogy of what I do. I don’t mind being a bug in the garden, I thought.

As long as I’m the bug doing the killing.

Doll Face

Note: This story takes place before the bizarre events depicted in the graphic novel Criminal Macabre: A Cal McDonald Mystery.

When I came to I was on the floor of a jail cell. That in itself was bad enough, but I also had some company.

Some big fat fuck with thick glasses was trying to remove my belt. I didn’t know if he was trying to steal or attempting some butt-pirating, and I didn’t care. Using the flat of my palm I jammed his nose to one side, and then cracked it loose with the other.

I rolled to my feet and fat boy fell backward against the bars of the cell. I looked around quickly and saw three other cellmates staring, bored, like they’d seen it all before. I decided to give them something they’d never seen.

I finished removing the belt from my pants and pinned fat boy to the bars. I used the belt and tied him by his throat then proceeded to whale on his chubby face until the guards showed up. I hadn’t intended on it, but I must’ve tied the asshole to the door because when the guards pulled open the cell, fat boy got dragged along for the ride. My cellmates cracked up. So did the guards. Everybody was laughing except the asshole. He was unconscious.

When the laughing stopped and fat boy was peeled off the bars and taken away, one of the guards, a giant black guy with light eyes, looked at me and nodded. I nodded back. He was a ghoul. A lot of L.A. cops are ghouls.

“Cal McDonald?”

“Yeah.”

“Lieutenant Brueger wants to see you.”

I waved goodbye to my cellmates and stepped around the half-circle smear of blood on the floor. I followed the big ghoul. I couldn’t help but stare at him. He took up half the hall and almost reached the ceiling and those fucking eyes looked like they could shoot a laser beam.

“What’s your name, officer?” I asked. I think my staring was making him uncomfortable.

“Norris.”

“Good to meet you, Norris,” I said. “Any clue how I wound up here?”

“Disturbing the peace.”

“Can you be a little more specific?”

“You threw a gentleman through the window of a sushi bar on Ventura Boulevard.”

“Huh. No shit. I wonder why I did that.”

The ghoul cop grinned.

“While I’m asking stupid questions, who bailed me out?”

“I believe it was a young lady. A Miss Sabrina Lynch.”