It was nine thirty when Detective Frank Cohanik trudged up the hill toward the picnic table and the charred husk that lay on top of it. The corpse was only vaguely definable as humanoid in form. Frank cast his eyes about; they were heavy and bloodshot from lack of sleep. His shift ended at five and he should, by all rights, be nose down in a pillow somewhere snoring contentedly, like his partner Sunny would be at this time. He lifted the barrier of yellow tape that had been stretched around the perimeter of the crime scene to keep the small crowd that had gathered at bay. He saw a young patrol man speaking to one of the unfortunate joggers that had found the body still smoldering earlier that morning.
"Be careful, with that corpse, the fire damage has made it fragile, Davis you just cost us a rib, Andrews see if you are any steadier than Davis, I want as much of this corpse to make it back to the ME as possible! Hey Frank!" The man with the megaphone voice was Sergeant Brighton, he also had a great barrel chest and massive broad shoulders, "thought you were on night shift, where's Sunny?"
"I was just catching up on some paperwork when the call came in; some of the guys were talking about spontaneous human combustion. You know how Sunny likes the weird ones so I thought that I would stop by on my way home and check this one out for him."
"He couldn't come himself?"
"You know Sunny."
Sunny had been Frank's partner for two years now, his real name was Paul Lawson, his nickname was given to him for the same reason people called a six foot seven, three hundred fifty pound titan Tiny. Aside from his aversion to daylight hours he had the least sunny disposition of any person Frank had ever met. His speech was more often than not riddled with profanity, obscenity, and expletive. Frank liked him; he was efficient, hard working, intuitive, and the best person in the world to have at your back when things got hairy.
"Hey are you still seeing that artist? What's her name?"
"Alexandra," Frank said pulling a small velvet box out of his pocket and opening it to show Brighton the contents. Brighton whistled appreciatively.
"I am seeing her tonight actually," Frank grinned, he had been planning tonight for months, largely because the restaurant to which he was taking her required reservation be made three months in advance, which just about gave him time to save up for the cost of the meal. The ring he had not been able to afford, but the lady behind the counter guaranteed that Alexandra would swoon or his money back.
Frank dialed Sunny's number on his cell, it rang six times before a heavy sleep laden voice answered- "The fuck do you want motherfucker?"
"Morning…"Frank began.
"I know what the fuck time it is, why the fuck are you calling me?"
"Sunny, your exquisite command of the English language never ceases to amaze."
"Fuck you, I'm hanging up."
"I was at the station and got a call about some poor bastard burned up on a park bench, the guys said something about spontaneous human combustion, thought it was right up your alley."
There was a long sullen pause before Sunny replied, "Send me pictures."
"I'll make sure that Brighton sends a copy of the case file to your desk."
There was grunt and a click, Frank took the grunt as thanks, and turned back to Brighton.
"What do you know so far?"
"Not much," replied Brighton walking Frank over to stretcher on which the body had been placed. It was in two pieces, the top half and the bottom had separated where a small portion of the spine had apparently been blown away, "it looks like his chest exploded, see how the front of the rib cage is missing along with the lower jaw?"
Frank bent to examine the body, Brighton was right, it looked like the chest had exploded from the inside. The ribs that remained stuck out at odd angles and much of the spine has been reduced to ash. This fire had burned hot, he wondered about the accelerant that had been used. Noticing an incongruous chip in what remained of one of the thoracic vertebrae; Frank asked to see a magnifying glass. No one had one. It took several minutes for a technician of one variety or other to fetch him one. He bent closely over the remains holding his breath, trying to avoid even breathing on the fragile evidence.
"Brighton, hand me the super high def mega pixely camera thingy." Brighton complied laughing to himself over Frank's lack of technical acumen; Frank focused the camera and took a shot.
"How do you get this thing to zoom in?" He asked.
"Like this," the tech that had brought him the camera interjected, seizing it, as though Frank were going to break the delicate instrument, and helped him focus the picture on the spot that had caught Frank's attention.
"See right there, that slight nick in the spine?"
"Yeah, what about it?"
"I would have to check with the ME but I think that means he was stabbed."
"I really hope it was before he got set on fire, hell of a way to die."
Frank nodded, then, after confirming that Sunny would get a copy of all the reports when he got in that night, Frank took his leave. As he was walking away from the scene he looked down and saw something plastic on the ground. He bent and examined what turned out to be a security badge assigned to Steven Ray Guilford of the Butler Corporation. Frank whistled, the Butler Corporation was headed by Amos Butler, the most powerful property magnate in six counties. Frank called Brighton over to photograph and catalogue the evidence, and then finally made his way back to his car and headed for home;. He needed rest. It was going to be an eventful night.