Homicide Lieutenant Pete Boggio took the checkered handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his forehead.
"I've seen a lot of things in my time, but this takes the cake."
He spoke solemnly, to no one in particular. Just rolling the words off his tongue because he felt like saying something. It was part of his job to say things, even if they meant nothing.
"Ugly." Marty Russel popped another flashbulb at the bodies and pulled the film pack from the back of his 4x5 camera.
"They haven't invented a word for this carnage," Boggio said, sinking down on the couch and scribbling in his notebook. He always scribbled, whether he had anything to scribble about or not. Like some guys chewed toothpicks to stop smoking, Boggio scribbled.
The photographer sank down beside him and watched as the ambulance attendants wheeled in a gurney.
"Bad scene, Lieutenant."
"I know. I know."
Boggio doodled a hangman's knot, ripped off the scrap of paper and crumpled it in his meaty fist.
"Took six of 'em to get that guy out of here. Did you hear him screaming about Viet Cong and ordering someone to shoot him, to kill him rather than be captured?"
"I heard. I heard."
Boggio didn't like Russel; he talked too much.
"And those poor kids. Jesus. Wonder what it will do to them?"
"Who knows?" Boggio said, drawing stick figures of a man and woman with ropes around their necks.
"God," Russel said, setting his camera on the floor and lighting a cigarette. The smoke teased Boggio's nostrils and made him want to ask for a butt. He checked the impulse and ripped off another sheet of the scrap paper, wadding it and throwing it across the room.
"God what?"
"God, I was just thinking about those kids. That woman grabbing that little boy and saying those things to him. Pulling down his pants and sucking on his penis while the others watched. Jesus, what's it going to do to them?"
Boggio drew a picture of a little boy with tears in his eyes, ripped it off the pad and crumpled it.
"Why? Why?" Russel asked, shifting and blowing the tantalizing smoke into the lieutenant's face.
"Perverts," Boggio said, clamping his jaw tightly and standing, folding his pad up and stulEng it in his pocket. "Perverts. The world is full of them."