Red and blue lights flashed down the dark alley where Detective Wayne and two police officers stood. The air was thick with pollution and foul odors oozing from the piles of trash stacked up next to the buildings. Old newspapers and rotting food were scattered everywhere, along with any other trash that pedestrians had discarded there, and lying amid this garbage and filth was a man who had recently died. His clothes were old and dirty, and it was apparent that he was homeless. Dirt and grime covered his hands and face, but it would not hide his expression of sadness and grief. It was painful for Wayne to look at the deceased man, because he knew how he must have felt; so lonely that you could curl up and die; so lonely that there's nothing left to live for.
He had just arrived to the scene, but the two policemen next to him had been there for twenty minutes. Officer Lewison, a heavy set man, was standing back haughtily, as if he was in a hurry to be somewhere else. He shuffled his feet and gave a deep sigh of boredom. The other man, Officer Ruiz. was excited on the other hand, and he took in every detail with enthusiasm. He was a rookie, reluctantly working under Lewison, until he could get his own assignment. Ruiz wanted to work with Wayne, a legend in the area, but investigation wasn't his department. He was just here to write a report and make sure everything was taken care of. Lewison sure wasn't going to do it; not with his servant Ruiz around.
"How long has he been here?" Wayne asked out loud, not taking his eyes off the corpse. Ruiz walked around Lewison and stood next to the detective, who had his hands in the pockets of his brown trench coat. Officer Lewison wasn't too fond of Wayne, and probably wouldn't answer him, so Ruiz gladly explained the situation in his Mexican accent. "There's no way to tell sir, until we take him to the morgue. Nobody saw him die."
Nobody saw him die. Wayne turned the thought over and over in his mind. Nobody probably cares either. Nobody knows him; nobody mourns his death. Sometimes I feel the same way.
"No witnesses?" he asked for confirmation. "Who found him?"
"A woman by the name of Mrs. Goldstein. She said that she walks by this alley every night, and usually she hears him back here," Officer Ruiz reported.
"Did the man ever talk to her?" asked Detective Wayne.
"He never said nothing. Just moaned. Mrs. Goldstein said it sounded like he was crying or something."
Crying. No wonder. Not even Mrs. Goldstein stopped to care. Lying in a pile of trash all night long,covered by newspapers so people wouldn't notice him. Wayne compared this to his own life. Lying on his bed late at night; not being able to sleep because of the troubles during his day. Confuwion and disorder from seven a.m. to seven p.m. And no one at home to help him sort it out. No one to listen to. no one to love. no one who cares. Sometimes he felt like standing in the street asking people who passed by for friendship. but he knew that doing so would be unsuccessful. Ruiz looked as though he would gladly be the friend of Detective Wayne but that was because he didn't know the real Wayne. The Wayne Ruiz saw was just a mask, a veil that surrounded his loneliness and blocked others from seeing the desperate man beneath. He didn't want others to notice that he was lonely because of the loss of his family. That phone call still haunted his mind, when a strange voice told him late at night that there had been an accident, and that his wife and four year old boy were dead, that he would never see them again. Likewise, he tried to hide the fact that he couldn't handle the chaos of his life that cluttered his mind and magnified his sorrow. He had too much pride for others to feel sorry for him.
"Do we know the cause of death?" Wayne asked, but impassively, for he already knew how the man had died.
"No, we don't. There will have to be an autopsy."
Wayne nodded. "Let's get him to the morgue."
Immediately Lewison barked an order to Ruiz. "Go get the body bag, so I can get him out of here. We've stayed long enough for the death of some bum."
Ruiz reluctantly went back out to the street, and retrieved a large, black bag from an ambulance that was parked in front of the patrol car. When he came back, Lewison ordered him to get it over with, while he watched over him like a slave driver.
"Officer," Wayne addressed Lewison. However, the heavy-set policeman didn't acknowledge him. The detective repeated, this time with more force in his voice. "Officer, you better respond to me when I'm talking."
Lewison wheeled around like an angry bull elephant and glared at Wayne right in the eyes. "What?" he snorted.
Wayne couldn't understand what this man's problem was, but he didn't like his attitude. "Don't talk to me that way or I'll have you pushing papers in an office job all day." He lowered his voice and continued. "You need to be helping your partner. That's as much your job as it is his." Wayne couldn't tolerate people who thought they were better than everyone else. After a few seconds Lewison realized it was futile to argue, so he turned around and helped Ruiz lift the body into the bag.
