"The Chief is ready to see you, detective," the receptionist replied with a worried look on her face.
"Thank you," the detective answered as he straightened himself out ready to face the music.
He slowly walked down the hall as if he was a child being called to the principal's office. He crept towards the door and slowly turned the handle. The detective opened the door and went inside. The police chief was standing there waiting for him. The detective stood up straight and saluted his chief. The chief saluted back.
"Detective Robert Dachshund sir!" the detective shouted.
"At ease," the chief replied.
Dachshund took a sigh of relief. The chief motions his hand towards a chair.
"Please, sit down," the chief replied.
Dachshund sat down as the Chief approached him.
"Sir, you wanted to see me?" Dachshund asked.
"I did," the chief replied. "The matter is of grave importance."
"If it's about the McCoy case, let me just say it was not my fault! The guy had a gun and…!"
"It's not about the McCoy case!" the chief stated.
"Oh! Then what is it?" Dachshund asked.
"I'm reassigning you to a different case," the chief replied.
"I knew it! It was about the McCoy case! Look! I did the best I could with the circumstances I was given! I had no choice but to use deadly force!" Dachshund shouted.
"Take it easy detective! This has nothing to do with the McCoy case, I need your talents for a different matter," the chief replied.
"My talents?" Dachshund asked.
"You know, your sixth sense," the chief replied.
"Oh!" Dachshund moaned as he rolled his eyes. "You mean my 'none sense' why on earth do you want that?"
"It's because of this," the chief replied as he threw a file down on his desk.
"What is it?" Dachshund asked.
"It's the case file on Police Chief Martin Strong. He was the police chief that came before me. He was murdered under strange circumstance," the chief replied.
"Strange circumstances?" Dachshund asked. "What do you mean?"
The police chief walked over towards the window. Outside there were many tall buildings overlooking downtown Denver. The chief placed his hand on the glass and let out a sigh.
"Police Chief Martin Strong was one of the best cops that I ever knew. Always working hard, always trying to get justice for those who were wronged. Even after he retired he was still working to get justice for everyone. Fifteen years ago, then retired police chief Martin Strong was investigating several cold cases in our storage room. He said we messed several of them up and that he wanted to have another go at them. He was down there for five years going through old files and evidence. Trying to figure what we missed. Well, he spent too much time down there. He kind of went mad. He started talking nonsense, his hair went white, and he started foaming at the mouth. One day, he just lost it. He went down into the storage room and locked the door. He wrote out a detailed suicide note saying…well, that he was going to kill himself. When we were finally able to break down the door, we found him in there dead." The chief replied.
"Wait! You said he was murdered but he wrote out a suicide note? That doesn't make sense!" Dachshund stated.
"I know right, when the police entered the room they found Martin's body. It was chopped up with an axe. Blood and guts were everywhere, it was horrible," the chief replied.
"He chopped himself up with an axe?" Dachshund asked.
"The official report states that the way the body was diced, there would be no possible way he could do that. Someone else was in the room with him when he locked himself in," the chief replied.
"Who?" Dachshund asked.
"We don't know!" the chief shouted. "It's been ten years and we still don't have answers!"
"Why are you looking at the case now and what does this have to do with me?" Dachshund asked.
"I have come to the conclusion that one of the cases Strong was investigating was the reason he was killed. I believe someone tried to silence him. They waited until he was vulnerable and then they struck," the chief replied.
"But you said Martin Strong wanted to kill himself. Why didn't the killer wait until Strong was dead? Why did he chop him up with an axe? If I was the killer, I would just have waited. Why did he commit this violent act?" Dachshund asked.
"That's why I want you to investigate this case," the chief replied as he sat down in his chair. "I want you to use your sixth sense and dive into detail on this case and the cases Chief Strong was investigating. Maybe your gift can shed some light on this bizarre case."
"My gift! Ha! Is that all you want me to do? You want me to use my gift to investigate this cold case?" Dachshund asked.
"Yes, and the cases that Strong was investigating. There is a killer still out on the loose and we need to catch him," the chief replied.
"Where do I even begin?" Dachshund asked.
"Go down to the storage room. There is a man there named Benjamin Buxton. He will tell you where you need to begin," the chief replied as he handed Dachshund the file.
"Okay then, is that all?" Dachshund asked.
"It is, you may go now," the chief replied.
The detective gave his chief a salute before he exited them room. Robert Dachshund walked down the halls. He clutched the file in his hand as if it was the neck of an adversary. His heart was full of anger and contempt. Robert Dachshund was one of the greatest in the Denver Police Department. He took down thieves, arsonists, drug dealers, and even murderers. He investigated some of the darkest cases in the police department. He considered himself to be a great detective. Now what was he? Just a boring old detective investigating a stupid cold case.
This is ridiculous! He thought to himself. I am one of the greatest detectives of all time! I could have solved the OJ Simson murders if I was given the chance! I shouldn't be here! I should be out in the field solving real cases. There are real murders going on right now and I am stuck here trying to solve one that happened ten years ago! This is ridiculous!
Robert Dachshund kept dwelling on these thought. The more he thought the more anger crept inside of him. Finally, Robert made it to the lower levels of the police department. He walked down the creepy dark halls of the building. All the anger that was inside of him quickly vanished. The lights were flickering like in a horror movie and everywhere he turned he felt like he was being watched.
"Hello?!" he shouted. "Is anyone down here?"
He received no answer. He walked further down the halls. As he entered one of the corridors a hand came out and touched him. Dachshund jumped up in the air and drew his gun. He pointed it at the individual who surprised him. The individual placed his hands in the air.
"Don't shoot!" he shouted as he ripped the earbuds out of his ears.
"Who are you?" Dachshund asked as he kept the gun on him.
"I'm Benjamin Buxton! I'm the custodian!" he shouted.
"You're a janitor?" Dachshund asked.
"Yeah, why?" Benjamin asked.
Dachshund let out a moan. He then handed the janitor the file on Martin Strong.
"My name is Detective Robert Dachshund and I am here to investigate the murder of Police Chief Martin Strong."
"Martin Strong? Wow! No one has talk about him in ten years, you here to investigate his death?" Benjamin asked.
"Yes, that is what I said. I need all the evidence you have on this guy. Every case he investigated, every person he knew," Dachshund replied.
"Follow me," Benjamin replied.
"Where are we going?" Dachshund asked.
Benjamin did not answer. He simply led the detective down the hall into a small room. There were no windows, and there were no doors. The rusty ceiling fan was slowly turning bare circulating enough oxygen in the room. The room was dimly lit. There were boxes everywhere. They were stacked up high right up onto the ceiling. In the center of the room was a table and a chair. There was a desk lamp positioned on the table. When Dachshund tried to turn it on it sparked and the bulb burned out. Leaning against the wall there was an old white board. Benjamin walked over and wheeled the white board over to the front of the desk.
"What is this place?" Dachshund asked.
"This is the storage room," Benjamin replied. "They stuff al the cold cases down here. This is where Police Chief Martin strong worked during the last five years of his life."
"He worked down here?" Dachshund asked.
"Yep! Right in this office! Nothing much has change except the floor used to be littered with Chinese take-out boxes and there used to be a door right there," Benjamin replied as he pointed to the open archway that led to the hallway. "Strong locked himself in the room, the police had to blow down the door, you know…to get him out."
"Yeah, I know," Dachshund replied as he threw the file onto the desk.
"So…Why are you investigating the case?" Benjamin asked.
"I don't know, maybe some love one complained the police department was not doing their job," Dachshund replied.
"…And your investigating because?"
"The McCoy case," Dachshund replied.
"That was you?" Benjamin shouted. "You're the one who killed that man!"
"Please don't give me the Black Lives Lecture now," Dachshund groaned.
"Hey, that man was like family to me," Benjamin replied.
"Did you know him?" Dachshund asked.
"I knew him in spirit! We're all brothers! Fighting for the same cause!" Benjamin stated.
"Great," Dachshund replied as he sat down in the chair.
"Look man, I don't want to push your buttons or anything, I'll just leave you alone," Benjamin replied.
"Can you do that for me please?" Dachshund asked. "I'm going to be very busy."
"Right, I will leave you. If you need anything I will be right down the hall," Benjamin replied.
Dachshund nodded as Benjamin left his sight. Dachshund just sat there for a moment. He started pondering his life. He wondered if he had made the right decision becoming a police officer. Everything he did, every action he took everyone hated him for it. He looked at the file that was sitting on the table. He sighed as he picked it up and began to read it. The file said this:
Retired Denver Police Chief Martin Strong was found dead today inside the Police Headquarters. Police are not revealing anything to the public. What is known is that the Chief did not die of natural causes. Investigation is ongoing.
Dachshund looked more into the file. He found crime scene photos which showed the disemboweled body of the police chief. He saw the weapon clutched in his right hand. The axe was stained red from all the blood. Dachshund then took out the autopsy report which stated that Martin Strong died from loss of blood and head trauma. Looking deeper into the file Dachshund discovered something important. The autopsy report gave a description on Martin Strong from his height to his weight. The report also stated that Strong was left handed. This took Dachshund by surprise. He took a picture out of the file. It was a picture of Martin Strong in his police outfit. Dachshund took the picture and taped it to the center of the white board. He stood back and stared at it for a long time.
You were a good officer. Dachshund thought. Even though this case happened back in the stone age it doesn't disserve to go unsolved. You are a fellow brother in blue.
Dachshund then let out a sigh. I will solve this case for you.
Two hours passed and Dachshund was almost done setting up his new office. The white board was now in the center of the room. The desk and chair were pushed back a bit. The boxes were spread all over the place as Dachshund examined each one. A tripod was set up on the left side of the room. On top of the tripod there stood an old camcorder. Dachshund pushed a button and the device started recording.
"Hello, my name is Detective Robert Dachshund. It is Tuesday, September 5. I am here today in our storage room at the Denver Police department investigating a cold case," Dachshund replied as he picked up the camera.
He pointed it towards the white board.
"The cold case is on the strange murder of Retired Police Chief Martin Strong. The department has reason to believe that one of the cold cases Chief Strong was investigating has something to do with his murder," Dachshund replied as he placed the camera back onto the tripod.
"According to the file, Chief Strong planned to kill himself. However, when he was found, he was chopped up with an axe. The axe was found in Strong's right hand, but this does not add up. Strong was left handed. If the chief really did cut himself up, I doubt he would use his right hand. I believe the chief was murdered and I am going to figure out who did it."
Dachshund walked over and started going through several boxes. He placed them down on the desk and started going through them.
"Now I know what you're thinking. Gosh! There has to be more than one hundred cases in this room! How is he going to go through them all? Well, let me clarify something. I don't need to go through them all. All I have to do is find the cases Martin Strong was investigating at the time of his death. I will look over that case and see if anyone had any reason to kill him. According to his notes, Martin Strong was investigating a case that occurred in 1950. In fact, in the last five years of his life he referenced this case like every day." Dachshund replied as he sorted through all the boxes.
Dachshund took everything off the desk expect the one that had the numbers 1950. He picked that box up and placed it on the desk. The side of the box read: The Murder-Suicide of 1950.
Dachshund opened the box and began taking the evidence out. The first thing he took out was an evidence bag. Inside the bag, there was a kitchen knife. Dachshund placed it on the desk and pulled out the next piece of evidence. It was an old handgun. Dachshund checked to make sure that it was empty. It was but there were a few bullets rolling around in the box. In addition, Dachshund found a pair of eyeglasses, some thimbles, and a sewing needle. He also found a long rope. He placed these on the table. Finally, he found a picture. It was black and white. It showed a happy couple standing in front of their house. The wife was kissing the husband on his right cheek. The husband has a goofy smile plastered on his face. The wife's eyes were closed. Dachshund pealed back the photo and discovered there was a letter attached to the picture. He read it and was shocked. It read:
"Whoever may read this letter,
As you may already know, my name is Nancy Elsner. I have nothing left but my deepest regrets. I was certain my love was still alive. I heard the colors of his voice in the radio, I swear. It wasn't until I came to realize that every voice happened to be black and white. Males, females, young and old, none of these voices came from my love, yet they all played in monochrome, just like his. Flickering... back and forth, back and forth, between blacks, whites, and an array of different colors – I soon realized that I had only fooled myself. Even today, after I've remembered every detail of that night, I find it impossible to believe that I could've been capable of such monstrosities. Death is the only punishment suitable for me, I believe. I owe him so much. My greatest apologies – even giving my own life – will never be enough to grant me forgiveness, but it's the least I can do."
It was a suicide note. Dachshund placed it with the other pieces of evidence.
What does this all mean? He thought to himself. He placed his hands on the letter. Suddenly, his eyes shut and he could feel his body shift away. He felt it course through all his veins. His 'none sense' was taking over. It was taking him to a different time. A time back before anyone on this earth today was born. He was being transferred all the way back to 1950 when this case came out. It was the case of the Murder-Suicide of 1950 or better pronounced as Housewife Radio.