QR Code Murders: Stomping Through the Streets

The last day of the ninety-six yielded tempers in Kim and Tamil.

“Why do we even say these things?” Tamil asked.“I don’t know, you started it,”

though.”

“What are you, twelve?” Kim retorted.

“I just think us holed-up here for four days was probably a bad idea.”

“No, it wasn’t. The rioters have stopped their progress and are not obstructing traffic byways. We can relish the idea of returning to town with the knowledge of our sanity being intact.”

Yawquisha tapped away, sending out messages, answering them, and posting more material that she had on her phone related to the QR code murders. She figured that was the root of all of this turmoil.

“Yawquisha, are you packed?”

“Yes.”

“We’re heading out now. Make sure you have everything.

“Copy.”

Kim smirked at the last remark.

They traveled on I-95. The car hummed. The driver and passenger remained silent. Kim put on some hip hop music. That got her brain going.

“I know rap is a cesspool, but I think you can study cesspools. These rappers are pushing ideas related to the violence going on in the city. Now, there’s a song about how the protesters could be targets,” Kim mentioned.

“I agree,” Yawquisha said. “No one’s worried about imagery, similes, metaphor, multiple entendres, and immersive storytelling. Their talking about how to drop the next opponent with the sound of their machine gun.”

“I like money rap,” Tamil admitted.

Yawquisha and Kim shot glances at him.

“What?”

“I like young people, mostly men of color getting paid for their efforts, too, but this isn’t that, and that isn’t this,” Kim fired back.

“Our city is besieged by a confluence of ignorance and rage. That’s a deadly mix. If we are to take seriously our lives and the lives of others of value, we should be able to determine who is good and who isn’t,” Yawquisha chimed.

“I still like money rap,” Tamil muttered.

“Tamil!” Kim and Yawquisha screeched.

Yawquisha returned to her phone and did her best job of editing with just the mobile app. She knew that her home studio produced better quality picture and sound. Still, she marched on like a warrior in the field. Like Kim.

They arrived back at the station free of the throngs of people stamping past the place.

“Sir, we have been able to gain intel on the murderers. I know the news outlets want to talk about the demonstrations, but we should be focused on the seed of the problem.”

Captain stroked his salt and pepper mustache.

“I hear you, Jergensen. But we just experienced one of the biggest events this city has ever seen. I’m glad you used your time wisely. We have to focus on the upcoming trial. We have to see to it that the department gets its hands cleaned from this. I have no recourse but to deliver the cases over to the feds.”

“Sir, I strongly suggest that you not do that. It will only jeopardize our investigation.”

“It’s already done. You’re going to be reassigned to another set of cases. I’m not going to say I’m sorry. These cases led to those goddamn rioters stomping through the streets. You’re going to get a bump in pay, don’t worry. You’ll be covering the elderly cases in Greenville. I know it’s slow and less sexy, but these are still lives.”

“Yes, sir,” Kim said flatly.

She met Yawquisha typing furiously into her phone.

“Well, you can ride-along all you want, but I’m off the cases.”

“Feds?”

“Feds.”

Tamil got up and hugged Kim.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why? You didn’t kill them.”