It’s midnight. Rookie FBI Tech Specialist Jimmy Kemp had just angrily stormed out of the Euclid Avenue Denny’s. Marston received a phone call from work. Director of FBI Cleveland, Special Agent Stephen Anthony had just informed Marston that FBI was now heading up the investigation of multiple murders.
“Cleveland Police assured us that the murder at the Holiday Inn last night was nothing special. Now a Holiday Inn employee, who was on the clock last night, turns up dead. And not just dead…eviscerated—torn to pieces in a parking lot behind the old print shop off of E 72nd and Saint Clair I want you on this Marston. I’ve been assured by the Commander of the 5th District that we will have the full support of the Cleveland Police.”
E 72nd and Saint Clair—-that’s the Saint Clair-Superior neighborhood. Marston knew it somewhat. A gang of Crips calling themselves the Saint Clair Thugs ran that neighborhood: Vandalism, armed robbery, drug trafficking, assault, rape.
Cleveland boasts of over 50 fairly dangerous mortal gangs: Crips, bloods, Gangster Disciples, Aryan Brotherhood, Skinheads. Though, to Marston’s knowledge, the Saint Clair Thugs didn’t have any supernatural ties. This June there was a huge drugs bust, 70 arrests in the SCS (Saint Clair-Superior).
“Shit! Shit! Shit!” Marston said. “Dave Walters body was just found, torn to pieces, in an empty parking lot off of Saint Clair. Finish your steaks, Mokwa, we gotta go.”
Marston threw some cash on the table. “ Harrington, do you know how to get to 72nd and Saint Clair?”
Harrington nodded slowly. “I’ll meet you there!”
To be Continued