Story a week: .44 magnum

Trying my hand at a detective story, as always comments, critiques and reviews appreciated.

"A dead on shot it was, right through his temple." Charlie lightly thumbed the .44 in his holster. "The body is just starting to rot, smells like s**t." He bent down a bit closer, examining the corpse closely. "Call that forensics guy over here, want to know what he thinks." Davis nodded and yelled for the analysyst. "Someone found the shells and the cylinder, idiot tried to ditch them in a storm drain but missed." "The gun wound looks like it matches the caliber, kinda hard to tell with that big of a hole, kept it pretty clean though." Charlie patted the analysyst on the shoulder and headed for his squad car.

"Scratches were too deep to make out the serial number, even with those chemicals. We did manage to get the serial numbers from the bullets, they're from Gary's." Charlie nodded his head. "Well that law makes this a hell of a lot easier." The analyst chuckled, "indeed it does."

"How's that comin' Gary?" Charlie called to a fat man squatting down to read through his log books, he continued rifling than wrote an address on a piece of paper. "Thanks for taking time out of your busy day to help me out." Carlie said gesturing to the completely empty gun shop, Gary sneered. "See you later."

"I'm bout' ready to bust this f****n' door down if you don't get yer a*s in gear!" Davis yelled in his attempt at a Southern accent while pounding on the door. "Move bud." Charlie said, than proceeded to blow a magnum sized hole in the door and kick it in. "Ready or not."

"Fifteen grand and paper work! dumb s**t kept the paper work!" The police hauled a half conscious man out the door.

"He works for the mail order trash men. You call them leave an address they show up and kill whoever is there." Charlie scratched his head. "There was a similar situation in Miami wasn't there?" The people around the table nodded. The pathologist who had been sittin quietly until that moment spoke up. "The deceased had a tattoo on his right forearm, a gang slogan for a Colombian drug cartel." "Yeah I was wondering what that was, thanks for clearing it up."

"We traced the call to that building there, the little one." Davis was pointing to a small shack in between an apartment building and convenience store. Charlie advanced with out a word and twisted the door handle, a fireball burst out off all sides roasting Charlie and sending debris everywhere.

Davis and Burroughs were sitting and reviewing case notes. "It's cold, there's no point in wasting money on this s**t." Davis nodded sadly, "yeah I just wish we could finish it for Charlie." "Your partner was a dumb s**t who didn't follow protocol, his luck finally ran out." "Truth." davis agreed