Pool, Afternoon, Fishing Rod

The victim was floating face down in the pool, skewered by a fishing rod, through the neck and out the mouth. The fishing hook was dangling from the corpse’s mouth. The midday sun was high in the sky. The pool reflecting the sunlight was like a mirror with a blinding brightness. It was as though the scene was not meant to exist. Detective Herston was leaning on a palm tree which was within an arm’s length of the pool. His legs were crossed over each other, revealing an intense concentration that could not even be distracted by the uncomfortable position. Herston took one last puff of his cigarette and flicked it into the pool.

Wellsville, Florida was a small town. Herston was the local detective of mediocre accomplishments, and this case was the opportunity to fix his career. The last murder was at least 20 years ago, but that was only in a robbery. No bizarre killing like this had ever occurred before.

Herston squatted beside the pool and stared intently, directly at the point where the fishing rod met the throat of the victim. Looking carefully, he realized that what he saw made no sense. The fishing rod was like any other from a fishing supply store. There was no way it could so cleanly go through a person without bending or becoming distorted. The rod was perfectly undistorted without any sign of struggling to place it. In frustration, Herston hit the surface of the water with his hand and stood up. Maybe it’s time to call the FBI, Herston thought, This is above my abilities.