A cold wind blew through the fog causing it to swirl like a whirlpool, silent and threatening in the starless night. The sound of a bullet cut through the thick blanket of silence, then a scream, and again stillness in the night. In the middle of an apartment parking lot lay a man of forty bleeding out, his white goatee thick with blood and stained red. His eyes were slowly loosing color until they faded into black.

On the other side of town a man had just fallen out of bed. He had been dreaming that he was in a cloud high above the city and noise, when suddenly he felt a crippling sorrow right before he plummeted to earth. Coughing, he stood up and found half a cigarette on the floor. As he smoked his guilty pleasure the phone rang.

“Ello” grunted the man.
“John, did I just wake you up?”

“Not really. I’m waking up?”

“What! Do you know what time it is?”

“You know I don’t have a clock George.”

“Ha! I forgot your living in that one room box you call an apartment.”

“Ja’ call for a reason or did ja’ just wanna bust my chops?”

“Nah we got a case, John.”

“What happened?”

“Some old guy got shot outside some apartments on the nice side of town.”

“Any evidence?”

“Just some gold Zippo with some kind of crest on it.”

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
John hung up the phone and walked over to the mirror where he caught a glimpse of his apartment. His rickety old bed was in the corner next to a two door dresser and clothes were scattered on the floor here and there. Then he saw himself in the mirror, the scar under his chin was getting smaller, but the hair on his head seemed to be getting shorter and whiter ever day. He didn’t mind though. He thought these things gave his broad appearance a sense of intellect and a touch of danger. John grabbed his badge and threw a cheap sports coat on over his wrinkled dress shirt that was tucked into his cheap slacks. With one last glance in the mirror he saw an image of himself standing with a woman and little girl. As he left the room an invisible tear was stored behind his eye.

John arrived at the office nineteen minutes later.
“George ya here?”

“Yup.”
A small man stepped out from the back room. He was wearing Buddy Holly type glasses over his green eyes. George was also wearing a sports coat and slacks, though his were noticeably nicer. He had sharp features and a fedora that never left his head.

“Ya ready?” grunted John.

“Yeah, ya got your badge and gun?”

“Got my badge, left my gun in the desk.” John walked over to a cherry wood desk and pulled out a .357 Magnum, blacked griped and nickel plated.

“Ready to roll John?”

“Yeah, you drive I’m a bit hung over.”

“Damn John what’s wrong with you?’

“Nothing. Things just been tough sense she left, ya know?”

“Yah…look we better get going.” They both got into a black Lincoln and took off.

“Have you been to the scene yet?”

“Yea, one shot to the head with a soft tip bullet so we can’t trace it. Probably used a snub nose though. Here is the lighter and a picture of the scene.”

John took the picture and looked at the old man. He noticed that he was wearing an ash grey pinstriped suit. Something didn’t seem right however. Maybe it was the tattoo of an ace of spades card on his neck that seemed out of place. John looked at the old man and felt remorse for some strange reason. Behind John’s cold grey eyes the invisible tear got bigger and stronger.

“Go to the smoke shop.” John spat suddenly

“Ha! Ya nicking John?’

“No. Billy collects Zippos and he might know somthin’ bought this one.” John twirled the gold Zippo in his hand and examined the crest. It was a skull with a snake going through its eyes inside a shield.

“We’re here.” said George

“Good.” John and George both walked into the smoke shop that was full of fine cigars and cork pipes. Behind the maple wood desk stood an old balding man with a white beard that put Saint Nick to shame.

“Ah, good morning John. I haven’t seen you in years. Are you smoking cigars again?”

“No I need you to tell me what you know about this Zippo.” John handed over the evidence. Billy examined it for about five minutes then his jaw dropped.

“What’s up Bill?” asked George.

“This ain’t no Zippo. It’s custom made by a French guy named Christopher Mars. He died about twenty years ago.”

“Can you tell us what the crest on it means?”

“That’s where it gets interesting. This crest is the symbol of a family called the Sanctifiers. They lived in the catacombs under France and were well known for their murders of “impure” people. The most famous member was believed to be Jack the Ripper. They died out about ten years ago, but I guess it’s possible they just moved to the Americas.”

“Alright thanks Billy. We’ll go down to immigration and look at European immigrants from the last ten years, come on George.” George and John walked out to their black Lincoln. It was a sunny day, and people could be seen walking up and down the street. Amongst the chatter of pedestrians a faint ticking could be heard coming from the black Lincoln.

“Do you hear something?
“Get dow…” The last thing John remembered was flying through the air amongst orange flames flickering not five feet away from him. As he hit the ground he could here screams and sobs amongst the deafening white noise and searing pain in his left arm. As he gasped for air everything faded into black. He dropped into a whirlpool of confusion and mystery, with no ideas where the answers were, or where his fall would take him…
Through the window a slight breeze could be felt, though this breeze did not carry the feeling of comfort of relief. It was hot and full of anger. John sat on the couch head buried in his hands. In front of him stood a woman who appeared to be four months pregnant, she was not yelling though her face was full of rage.
“Do you even stop to think about me and your daughter John” John lifted his head in surprise, “yeah that’s right it’s a girl did you stop and think about her John I can’t do this, I can’t be with a man with such a dangerous job half the time I think your married to the random dead people you see. I’m leaving John I’m moving back to England with my sister.”
“What about my daughter?!”
“No John I kept you off the birth certificate as far as she and everyone else knows you’re not the father.”

John painfully opened his eyes; at first all he could see was white and as his surroundings came into focus he realized it was the white of a hospital. “Go... George!” coughed John.
“Over here” called a raspy voice.
“George are you alright.” John stiffly walked up to the bed George laid on. He had cuts on his forehead and around his eyes John guessed this was from his glasses.
His left leg was raised and in a cast, his right eye had swollen to the size of a walnut, and his fedora lay next to his bed showing his balding white hair.

“Yea George I can’t leave for the day so your goanna be on your own for a bit. There is a witness in the lobby he said he saw who put the bomb in the car but refuses to talk, the cops got him out there right now.” John walked into the lobby no one seemed to notice him. Across the hallway he could see the scars on his neck that stood there like a tattoo his hair seemed to get greyer over night and the scar on his chin was almost invisible in comparison to his neck.

“Excuse me are you the detective?” John turned and saw a police officer holding the arm of a young man who was wearing a black bandana. “This here is the witness though he won’t talk because his gang took a vow of silence to the police.”

“Look I don’t have time to mess around what did you see”

“I don’t talk to no police,” Shouted the kid in broken English as he spat on John. John lunged forward grabbed the kid by the shirt and threw him against the wall.

“Look you little punk I aint a police officer so your goanna talk for two reasons. One my friend is in that room over there and I need to justify his injury. Second I aint a cop so if you don’t talk Ill beat the snot out of you.”

“Yo…you can’t do that man,” Said the kid in a week attempt to seem strong.

“No. I happen to be friends with the cop right there his name is Dug, now you goanna talk or not?”

“Alright alright, I was walkin’ down the street lookin for my homie and I see some guy diggin’ in the back seat of a car but when he gets out he is wearin’ a scarf and fedora so no one could see him. I didn’t think much of it but when you guys came out the car blew up I tried to run but I got picked up for suspicion.”

“Tell him the other thing,” demanded Dug

“He drove off in a BMW the license plate was 125w76.”

“Alright that’s all I need to know.”John ran out of the hospital and called a taxi within fifteen minutes he was at the DMV.

“Good morning how may I help you?”

“I need you to tell me the owner of 125w76 here is my badge.”

“Certainly… it belongs to a mister Reveres he is an immigrant from France and has lived here for ten years.”

“Thank you,” john ran out of the DMV and was hit with what felt like a led pipe over the head knocked uncases’ John was put in the trunk of a BMW.

He awoke in a strange room were everything seemed to be made of gold and marble. He struggled and tried t break free but he was bounded to the wall with what felt like a chain. John new not to panic in this kind of situation instead he closed his eyes and took a deep breath so he could analyze all his possibilities
“Hello John” a deep male voice almost laughed. John opened his eyes to see six people all dressed as if they were going to a masquerade ball. The females dressed like cats and the two males wore solid black masks
“How do you now my name?” John coolly asked.
“We now all about you and your case John the lighter, your wife and kid, even your partner who is in the hospital for the next two days no one knows you’re here john and that’s just perfect. The stranger in the black mask raised a pistol to Johns head.
“You won’t get away with this”

“Maybe not, but we won’t be caught today.” the stranger pulled the trigger without thinking twice, the same way you way you kill a spider creeping on your face. As the bullet passed through John he could see the people laugh, while they danced to a sad melodic waltz. In the middle of the floor however stood a woman of forty with lushes blond hair. She wore a white dress witch made her crimson lips stick out. It was John’s wife and next to her stood the apparition of a young girl with hair like her mothers. John new this was his daughter even though he had never seen her. As John hit the ground a tear fell and the ghosts disappeared and with Johns dying breath he saw officer Dug and five other police men run in like a dream and arrest his murderers.

There weren’t many people on the left side of John’s funeral in fact there was only George and some tall man in a pee coat. However to the right side twenty families all shedding tears in honor of detective John. They were all families of people John found peace for by solving their cases. As amazing as this was there was a one other site on top of the hill, up there stood twenty dead men and women all with bullet wounds cuts and stitches. In the middle stood John watching his own funeral pass, and as the twenty looked to john as if to ask, What next, John smiled and they evaporated like the morning dew dose into the sun. Finding peace and resting for eternity