[ IP ] Call it in .

There were times when Detective Rankin thought there should be a checklist, some sort of national database into which every cop could put his weirdest, scariest, or just straight up disgusting crime scenes. Newbies could carry a copy of it round, and tick one off every time they came across something similar. 
 
 At this point of his career, he was pretty sure he had seen everything it had to offer, and was just about to add a new entry. 
 
 It looked like something out of *The Godfather*. A hail of bullets had provided the car with a brand new air-con via the driver's door, turning the driver into hamburger meat in the process. The front seats ( and most of the back ) had been redecorated, the drab, grey vinyl now coated with a generous mixture of blood, skin and internal organs. And this marvel of automobile innovation had chosen his little patch of ground to occur on. Fucking brilliant. 
 
 As with any new body, he started at the beginning. It did n't matter whether you were looking at a car in a ditch, or a dismembered corpse surrounded by pagan symbols, the approach was as routine and uniform as a morning parade. Stand back, and ask yourself: what's wrong with this picture? Aside from the fact that a car was sitting in the middle of an open highway, and the guy leaning against it might as well have been passed through a shredder, there was one issue. Why the hell is the guy out of the car? The initial rain of bullets had done exactly what it had supposed to; while a fair number had gone right through him, there was still enough lead in the guy to make him sink faster than the Titanic, so how the hell had he gotten the door open? 
 
 No, there were two issues. The driver's side window was intact. While the door below it had more holes in it than a cheap faux-foreign cheese, the window was smooth, clear, and unbroken. 
 
 `` You see this, Garfield?'' he growled, as his partner rounded the back of the vehicle. 
 
 `` See what?'' Garfield, tall, brown haired, eager faced and new, was just the guy to be handing the list over too. Here was one he could tick off right away. 
 
 `` No broken window'' 
 
 `` The other side's clean - there was only one shooter'' 
 
 `` OK''. 
 
 `` So what about the window?'' 
 
 `` He's out of the car, and his eye's been shot through. You notice that? The bullet holes are only in the door, and most of them hit him around the lower abdomen. But the eye has been shot through. And he's out of the car.'' 
 
 `` The bullet was smaller too'' Garfield had bent over the body, and was looking it right in the eye. Rankin allowed himself a small, twisted bit of pleasure at the thought of the corpse suddenly shouting `` Boo!''. 
 
 `` The initial shooting; through the door - it was something big, probably a machine gun. This was a pistol. A small one too.'' 
 
 `` Anything else, Garfield?'' 
 
 The younger man looked up, confused. `` What do you mean?'' he asked, with an edge of irritation in his voice, the young recruit annoyed that he was still being tested like a cadet. 
 
 `` I want your opinion. Anything I might have missed'' Might as well give the boy a little validation. 
 
 `` Oh'' Garfield at least had the decency to look sheepish. `` Well, for one thing, he's a Mormon'' 
 
 Jesus. How the hell had he missed that? 
 
 `` There's some LDS pamphlets on the passenger seat'' Garfield explained, making Rankin relax a little. `` At least I think that's what they are, under all that.. well''. Clearly the pamphlets had been incorporated into the car's new interior décor. A bit thoughtless on the part of the decorator, but Rankin assumed he'd been in a rush. `` I do n't get it though'' Garfield muttered, more to himself than to his partner. `` Who the hell would want to kill a mormon?''. 
 
 But they had n't wanted to kill a mormon. The mormon was just some poor bastard who wandered into the wrong place at the wrong time. The eye shot was what gave it away. It was supposed to. The killer had filled the guy with holes, then walked over and dragged his dying body out the car to shoot him through the eye with a different gun. It was a monogram. A signature. `` Psycho Joe is in your area, and he's looking for dates''. 
 
 This one would definitely have made the list. 
 
 `` Have a good look round, Garfield'' He called to his partner, before taking a deep breath, and bracing himself for the inevitable fallout period, however long that was going to last. He looked up at the sky, which was as clear and blue, promising a beautiful day. Then he gritted his teeth, and walked towards a nearby payphone to call it in.
