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(MY VELVET ELVIS)(Editor's note: Thanks to Det W.of the Detroit P.D. for providing the following account at considerable professional
risk.)
August of 1992 was one of the hottest on record in Detroit. As a cop you learn to brace yourself for the worst when the
thermometer cracks ninety and it stayed closer to a hundred all month. This particular case still burns hot in the minds of
everyone it touched. Everyone still alive that is.
Sunday, August 3rd @ 3:00AM: Four alarm fire torches up half of a city block in the treacherous Huntingdon-Marsh section
of town. Eyewitness accounts vary. Most give accounts of a bright auto careening into a vacant building, but at least three
observers from different points of view described a brightly lite aircraft peeling over Old Champlain Park, careening down
Cumberland Drive thiry feet above traffic and well over the speed limit. Of course, since crank, crack and smack are the prime
retail trade on Cumberland Drive these reports were taken with more that a gram of salt. However, around 7:30 AM as the fire
subsided, the Fire Marshall gave us an initial report that changed our thinking.
Apparently the fire originated from an impact on the third floor. A large object had made a 30' by 15' hole in the exterior
wall and then burrowed halfway through the abandoned office building before exploding with a chemical excellerant of unknown
origin. Even eerier, at the crash scene, frequent descriptions from firemen of odd metallic wreckage and "hairless monkey
carcasses". Cops, firemen and Medical Examiners figeted waiting to go into the building as soon as it coold. Apparently
some local entreprenuers didn't wait for the Fire Marshalls okay.
Approximately 12:45 army trucks began pulling up and that was the end of the show. The impact building was quarantined
and a perimeter was was established to a two block radius. Gangbangers stood shoulder to shoulder with shopkeeepers and cops
as trucks went in and out, but nobody saw anythiing that came or went. When the military pulled out tweve hours later there
was nothing but a big sterile hole in the side of the impact building, No wreckage, no monkeys, no excellerant, end of story.
Friday, August 8 @ 11:30 PM: A snitch from the Jefferson Heights Brothers, a local youth gang, tipped off "Good Cop"
and "Bad Cop" that the rival Crypts gang was shopping some major goods among high brow fences in Motown and Chicago.
"GC" and "BC" are narcotics detectives with the Detroit PD. After a little followup they find out that
"Cabbagestalk", a top soldier with the Crypts is holding so they get a warrant and bust on Cabbagestalk's crib.
Nobody is home...alive that is.
Cabbagestalk and two other Crypt soldiers were found seated on a couch with arms rigid at their sides, fists and teeth
clinched and eyes wide open. They appeared to be shocked which made sense seeing as how there internal organs had exploded
like over-microwaved sausages. Even Bad Cop had to dash for the latreen at the sight. No evidence of narcotics or recently
stolen valuables were found but inside Cabbagestalk's wallet was a photo of an underdressed famale dancer with an endearing
message and a beeper number on the back. Taneka" was an entertainer at a local nightclub. She arrived at the crimescene
about 1:30AM, just as the stench of the bodies was at it's sweetest. When told she nmay also be a potential target she quickly
devulged all that she knew.
It appears that the morning of the crash and burn two local kids had slipped the army perimeter and pilfered and important
looking metal suitcase labelled "unknown origin: Detriot 8392/211" from the scene. After showing it around the case
and it's contents were promptly pinched by associates of Cabbagestalk. Taneka had last heard that "Lincoln Holmes",
an underboss in the Chicago Crypts, was to buy the goods for 20K that evening. Mister Holmes had just become a major league
murder suspect.
With three murders and possibly a theft of federal eveidence involed suddenly this became a very top shelf investigation.
"Good Cop" and "Bad Cop" were basically told by the Feds to drop out but the Detroit brass gave them the
go ahead to pursue the investigation quitely.
Lincoln Holmes was quickly located by GC and BC as well as the FBI, who sidetracked them long enough for Holmes to slip
their tail. Stymied, GC and BC tracked down Lincoln's top gunsel "Honeyboy" McDaniel and applied some traditional
Motown hospitality.
Honeyboy was scared. The goods Holmes went to Cabbagestalks crib to buy was some type of weapon. Once Holmes figured how
to use it he turned it on it's sellers. It seemed to affect Holmes like a drug. Afterward Honeyboy and Holmes took to an associates
place in the Hamistown Terrace projects for the night. About 4:30AM they awoke to a bright light in the center of the room.
Honeyboy could neither move nor hear a thing but his eyes could see plenty. Inside the light three figures moved about. Although
no words were spoken Honeyboy sensed that the creatures were inquiring about the weapon. Suddenly Honeyboys feet began to
burn and his head began to pound.
The rest happened in a matter of seconds. Lincoln Holmes drew the astrolabe shaped weapon and ribbons of energy shot out
like snakes from the eyes of the devil. The figures in the light sqwealled and scurried about as the light flucuated from
white to red to yellow and then to blue. Finally it was dark and silent. Honeyboy wondered if Holmes was alive and where,
in the dark, lurked the unearthly intruders. Sweating fingers nerviously fumbled for a light switch.
Lincoln Holmes and Honeyboy McDaniel were both alive but their host was less fortunate. A gash ran clean through his torso
from the base of his right shoulder to his groin. His lifeless body lie in a rapidly widening circle of blood, still a steaming
98.6 degrees. Clumped in the center of the room were the remains of one of their nocturnal visitors. Crustacean in appearance,
it's lower half was reduced to a spaghetti of viscous white and yellow tissue. In retrospect, Honeyboy recalled, the air immediately
filled with a stench of liver, feces and lobster. The imagery even made his inquisitors nauseous.
The two Chicago Crypts then grabbed what clothes were at hand and split out of the window. No doubt the creatures had
come for their weapon and would soon return for it as well as there fallen companion. Honeyboy urged Holmes to ditch the piece
but Holmes was possessed, bordering on madness. As McDaniel ran for his life into the Detroit night he could hear Holmes screaming
threats into the midsummer morning air.
I'd like to tell you that we wrapped up the investigation the next day but the fact is, a decade later no sign of Holmes
or the mysterious weapon has ever surfaced. The case is as dead as "Cabbagestalk" but every once in awhile a body
will turn up with the same, blown out from within, look. The last incident was just a year ago this December. Last Christmas
eve prison guards pulled the frappated entrails of Steven "Honeyboy" McDaniel from a laundry dryer at the State
Penitentary. The politicians won't let this story out but the public needs to know the truth and frankly we need help. If
you know anything please contact me through this website. Of course everything will be kept confidential.
Read More "Balanced" News in "My Velvet Elvis Cried"
The best way to get good credit is with new credit...check it out.
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