The Crime Scene I arrived at Beaumont avenue at around 2am; first on the scene. The rain had just finished its assault and I figured it was ok to remove my hood. It was completely dark except for the low hue of side lamps through net curtains and the dull orange dotting of the street lights. A metal fenced alleyway stood between the apartment buildings, locks broken of course. I pushed my way past a few garbage bins and saw immediately why I was called here. The body. Female, the high heels a big give away, probably early twenties, highlighted under a security light that no one ever took notice of. I snapped out my gloves and flicked the cigarette that had overstayed its welcome between the gap in my teeth. "Time for work" I whispered to myself. This girl was really messed up, several stab wounds to the gut, but her dress was red so it made the blood seem less apparent. Luckily for me I was dressed for the occasion. I hauled her up like some twisted vision of a husband carrying his bride over the thresh hold, but there was no love here, no happiness, no #life. I listened. It was part of the trade to be vigilant, even in an alleyway on a deserted road at 2am. The sound of water running down the drain from a flushed toilet, the faint murmur of a TV that had been left on long after lights out. The coast was never clear, but it was the best it was going to be. The girl was in the van and would be sleeping with the fishes before sunrise. As I drove, the faint sound of sirens gathered about a mile away, I didn't know if they were for me or the girl, either way I'd have lose the van now as well. I had another seven on the list, no names, just destinations. One of my largest contracts in years, it was usually only desperate men who called, pleading with me to help them clean up an 'accident.' Yeah right. But this was different, a professional contract. Maybe this was going to be a challenge, I'd only know for sure once I was further down the list. The sirens grew louder and my foot hovered above the throttle, shaking as I held it in position, resisting the urge to speed. Only ten seconds later and I realised that the sirens were growing weaker, until the only sound I could hear was my own fingers tapping away at the steering wheel. Force of habit. I knew I was far enough away now and as long as I stayed below the speed limit, the girl, the list and the duffel bag full of brand new guns would stay a secret. I put the radio on and heard the faint sound of an electric guitar. Van Halen. I instinctively turned up the volume. 'Onwards and upwards' I thought. No one could stop me tonight, and even if they tried, I couldn't let something as trivial as the police hinder the beautiful progress I was making.