The Hunted Monkey (Smoking Monkey)

Topic: Aharon: Incorporate a smoking monkey.

Special Note: Today, I whipped up a second smoking monkey story. Since the new topic will be posted tomorrow, I felt the need to post it right away. Enjoy.
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Fur. Norton could still smell the fur. Burnt fur was a smell that haunted your steps. The dry cleaner would hold his nose when you handed over your coat. After the deed, your sack girl would mention how the smell distracted her. And for Norton, the fur was like a phantom smell. Any time he caught of whiff of burning, it smelled like that combo of fire, fur, and flesh. One hundred yards from the yellow tape and he recognized the smell. It was going to be one of those days.

“Another fuzzy?” Norton said to the crime scene attendant as he walked under the yellow tape. The tone made the words seem more like a statement and less like a question. Norton didn’t have to hold his nose any more. It scared him, he’d gotten used to the stench.

“Yah, Detective Norton. Same as before. Dead monkey. Body moved from the original scene. Charcoaled,” the slightly chubby crime scene attendant said as she stood up from her crouch. She looked Norton in the eye, but averted her glaze.

“What is it, Pancake?”

“There was one difference. The monkey was…assaulted,” the attendant said. Norton looked at her as though she had made the most obvious comment in the world. “Sexually assaulted.” Norton scraped his chin with his thumb a few times and began to shake his head.

“How does a man plug a live monkey in the ass?” Norton said. Norton wasn’t concerned with the mindset at the moment; he was thinking more of the logistics.

“It wasn’t alive, Norton.”

Norton’s eyebrows shot up an inch. Twelve monkeys, all burned alive. Now the body of a thirteenth banana-shitter was in front on him and the M.O. changed. Why would a monkey killer with a flame fetish suddenly turn into a necrophiliac?

“Hey Pancake,” Norton said and the crime scene attendant turned back to him. “Did the deed occur before or after the flames?”

“Not sure yet. Based on the residue outside the fire’s radius, I’d say the act occurred before the flames and the finish occurred afterwards.”

“What do you mean afterwards?” Norton said. “Oh.” Norton answered his own question. “Thanks, Pancake. Put the report on my desk.”

Norton walked away from the scene. He didn’t need the report. After twelve dead monkeys on his turf, he knew the gist of what happened. This sex thing was different though.

Norton stopped for a hot dog at a nearby stand, so that he chew on the issue and gnaw at some food. Some people thought that hot dogs were old school, was Norton still loved them. Before Norton entered, he knew exactly what to do expect.

“YOU GONNA PAY THIS TIME, NORTON? YOU COPS NEVER PAY?” Zhou, the hot dog attendant, barked at Norton as he slammed his spatula against the counter.

“Not so loud, Joe Boy. I always pay. You know I do.” Zhou sneered in dissatisfaction and went back to wiping the counter. After a few minutes, Zhou brought the tray out to Norton’s table.

Norton began to think about the case. The only way for a civilian to get a monkey was to buy one from the animal preserve or steal one from someone who had. Getting a pet was expensive enough nowadays. The sickness made a lot of thing more expensive, but buying monkeys was just crazy to him. Despite the cost, pet monkeys were the all the rage with the uppities on the North Side. Norton had been hammering at those folks every day for a month now. If a cop was investigating monkey crime, shouldn’t he to where the monkeys are? The answer was no. If he pushed those rich folks any harder, the captain would be calling him in for “chat.”

“Hey! Are you the pig that hunts monkeys?” A high-pitched voice spat the words out from behind Norton asked. Norton put his hand on his gun before turning his head. It was a pre-teen holding a purple envelope and a matching backpack that looked so stuffed that it was about the explode.

“It isn’t nice to call a pig a pig right to its snout.” Norton said as he took his hand off the gun. Just a kid no reason to be alarmed. Monkey hunter, Norton thought. That stupid nickname had finally gotten from Crosby’s desk and onto the street. How was he supposed to cajole or bully these people when they all thought of him as the monkey hunter?

“Look, I got a problem,” the kid said.

“I got tons,” Norton said as he bit into his hot dog. After a few years, you realized that it was time-honored joke to yank the chain of a cop. These little gags had gotten worse for Norton since the monkey crimes starting making the news. If you fell for it, you’d be a mark forever.

“I’m serious!” the kid screeched as his voice cracked. Norton noticed the sweat under the kid’s armpits and how quickly the words were flying from his mouth.

“Okay, okay. Calm down. Sit down here right here kid,” Norton said, but the kid didn’t move. “Or don’t. Just tell me what’s going on.” The kid didn’t answer. Norton looked him over again before asking, “So, what’s in the envel...?”

“NORTON! ARE YOU GOING TO PAY?” Zhou screamed.

“God damn you Joe! I am working here” Norton yelled as he stood up and turned around. “I always pay,” and Norton flung a few crumpled bills at Zhou’s face. Norton heard the chime of the hot dog stand’s door as it opened and closed. Norton looked around, but he already knew the kid was gone.

“Crap.”

But then Norton saw the purple envelope on the ground. He picked it up off the floor and sat down. He felt its thickness and realized that were documents inside. After a moment, he knew that his day has just grown more complicated.

Norton was looking at a photo of the mayor smiling. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was that the mayor was smiling as he held a gasoline can over what looked to be a strung out monkey.

It was going to be one of those days...