The Eleventh Complaint
Language: en
"911, what is your emergency?" "My upstairs neighbors... someone is sawing through bone." "Address, ma'am? We are dispatching units right now." "Never mind." "Excuse me?" "The sawing stopped. Now I hear a mop. A soaking wet mop, cleaning up blood." "Ma'am! Please lock your doors, officers are on the way!" Click. The line went dead. Five minutes later, the cops kicked the upstairs door open. The married couple was sitting calmly at their dining table, gorging on a late night roast. A reciprocating saw rested on the balcony. They had just used it to cut through a frozen rack of venison. Jax…