LifeGem

The police reports read, “LifeGem…because love lives on.” This was the slogan of the legitimate company LifeGem. The business proposition of this corporation was to provide people the opportunity to turn loved ones into diamonds and make memories last for an eternity. For some reason when death gets involved with money (or diamonds for that matter) cops always get involved.
* * *
“Good morning Ethan,” the mid-aged secretary sighed under her breath while shuffling documents around.
“I’m just thankful to be alive for another day!” the old man grumbled sarcastically as he wiped the sweat from his brow that had accumulated between the walk from the car to his desk. Clutching his chest with a beastly grip Ethan could only think ticker don’t give out on me now, it’s almost over.
On the force this old man was known as Detective Lieutenant Ethan Marks. He has been in the field as far back as any one could remember, counting down the days until his retirement. One week to go until he and his wife would finally be able to take that lifetime vacation they’ve been waiting so dearly for. Marks always bragged about how he had saved since day one on the force for the opportunity to live without any worries of money.
“You’re lookin’ rough today Marks.” a young deputy bellowed.
“Yeah, I was up late last night with your mom.” Marks mumbled.
“Naw, you’re confused, that was my Grandma. Going out with my mom would be like dating the daughter you never had.” the deputy argued back.
“Well I guess I’m a Grandmother-fucker then,” smirked the aged man.
Although Marks was an old man he could talk more shit than anyone in the department. I guess you could say with age comes wisdom. And with enough drunken nights at the bar comes attitude. Unfortunately, this scruffy detective was fond of the bottle and has seen the bottom far too many times. The department was used to the circumstances and was willing to deal with this problem because lets face it he was the best there was in the small town of Elk Grove Village, Illinois. No matter how much schooling a detective has, experience always outweighed an education in this field and he was older than dirt.
“How ya feelin’ today boss? Looks like you had another rough night at the bar. Wife treating you right?” The overweight secretary asked not really caring for an answer, “New case just hit the books, looks kinda creepy, summin ‘bout turnin’ people into diamonds. I dunno it’s your job to figure this crap out, well not only your job anymore. I know you’re gonna hate it, but it looks like they’re stickin you with some intern that seems to be takin’ your place when you finely decide to leave this hell hole behind. Don’t shoot the messenger, look on the bright side it’s your last case.” Throwing the file on the desk, then stammered away closing the door behind her.
Instead of going to the saloon to forget about all the evil shit he’s seen in his days on the job, he was going to reminisce about the good ol’ days in the field. Besides his lifelong marriage, being a detective was the only thing Marks could understand. He was going to miss the anticipation of cracking a new case or the rush of bullets whizzing past his head. It took balls of steel to have gone through the mess of situations he’s had to deal with. One would think being in a small town it would be quiet, but for some odd reason trouble seemed to find its way in.
Marks opened the file and groaned, “This is it, the last one, grand finale.”
While reading through the file his new intern creeks open the door and came stumbling into the almost cleaned out office Marks had called home for so long. The new Boy Scout was clean-cut and cocky. He was dressed as though he was going to church or something; he stood out like a sore thumb in this department.
Marks first thought was this kid must be from out of town, “Lemme teach you your first lesson son, the key to being a good detective is blending in. Lookin’ like that someone’s liable to shoot you for lookin’ like a Narc; they know you’re a pig. Go home, change into something normal, and come back tomorrow.”
“But I just got here!” the newbie pleaded, “and please don’t call me son, my name’s David Mills.”
“Lesson two, I do not repeat myself! Now that’s two lessons in one day, that’s enough to learn on your first day. Go home, SON!” Marks so eloquently spit out.
Mills turned around walked out slamming the door behind him. It’s going to be hard to get through to that kid Marks reflected, reminds me a lot of me when I was a greenie. He turned the page and continued to read the file.
* * *
Unlike the usual, Marks was early to rise after a long night of being dumbfounded about his last dilemma. He hit the office early with a cup of Joe in hand drenched in Irish-cream of course. Every true alcoholic needs a drink in the morning just to get through the day. Although he was up and at ‘em early this morning, the kid was two steps ahead, sitting in Marks’ old chair at what used to be his desk dressed in casual clothes. As the two confronted each other, Detective Lieutenant Ethan Marks was being scraped off the front of the door.
“Check this crazy shit out. It seems these four hometown boys figured out a way to make diamonds out of the remains of cremated people,” sliding the file around as though Marks hasn’t seen it yet.
“Slick, you don’t think I’ve been reading that all night while you were sittin’ at home playin’ with yourself in front of the boob-tube. I’ve read the file front to back several times; it seems that two sets of brothers are living the American Dream running a pretty wealthy company. What’s been puzzling me is where do we come in? We have no warrant or even suspicion on these four boys. The only notion I have is to go take a look around,” rattled off Marks.
After hours of driving into the big city of Chicago, the blue emblazed Charger pulls into a handicap parking spot of the big corporation LifeGem. They hang the handicap parking decal on the rearview mirror and step out.
“Ay, what if a real cripple needs to park here?” defended Mills.
“They’ll just have to deal with it!” argued Marks.
They shuffled into the office as if they were there to purchase something. Really the main purpose was to scope the place out. It was really clean and ritzy. Almost as if it were a millionaires bank or a resort lobby.
“Hello and good afternoon, how may we help you today gentlemen?” questioned the female clerical worker.
Mills thought quickly on his feet, “This is my Grandfather, as you can see he is really old and rugged. There is not much time left for him and our wishes are to turn him into a diamond so our memories with him will last for an eternity.”
“Well, you’ve come to the right place. That is our purpose here. Let me get you some information,” responded the clerk.
Marks gave Mills a go to hell look and interrupted, “We would really rather speak with the owners, please.”
He rattled off their names after looking at the numerous plaques hanging on the wall which read:
Greg Herro, M.D.
Mike Herro, Ph.D.
Rusty VandenBiesen, B.A.
Dean VandenBiesen, Ph.D.
Almost all of these boys, except the youngest, seemed to have their doctorate in something. This entire visage was very strange to Marks after remembering reading that all four of these young men came from poor homes. Then it caught his eye, four precious diamonds mounted above the plaques, embossed in glass and protected with lasers. What really caught his attention were the names imprinted on the gold plates under the diamonds. Each of the names had the same last names of the owners. This is when business got serious for Marks.
“Sure, no problem, they are always willing to help our customers make the right choices,” squeaked the pretty young blonde.
As she walked away Marks whispers sarcastically to Mills, “I wonder who she had to bang to get into the business,” to lighten and keep Mills mind off of what was about to be said next.
Looking up at the diamonds Marks stated with precaution, “Things are about to get serious real quick. Follow my lead and we she should get all the information we need. You’re about to learn the biggest lesson of becoming a great detective and this shit they don’t teach you in grade school. Are you packin’?”
Mills looked at him nervously, “Ok and yeah,” were all he could mumble out at the moment.
To Marks surprise all four gentlemen walked up to greet them. He thought, wow, this is the best service I’ve ever received; they must really want to sell you yourself. After the greetings, handshakes, and hellos Detective Marks pulled out his badge and asked if they could speak in private. Scared shitless the businessmen agreed.
The executives led the two detectives into a private soundproof office in the back. The six men gathered around the mahogany executive table and set down in the finely cushioned leather seats. Marks broke the silence, “So, how much did this place cost you guys?”
“A couple mil,” the one with glasses mumbled. He seemed to be the financial leader of the bunch. A slender fellow with the best suit, diamond encrusted pen tucked in the pocket, along with the best electronic organizer.
Continuing on with the small talk Mills asks, “I don’t really understand it, how do you guys actually make people into diamonds?” Marks was impressed.
“With the right machinery the process is quite simple really. It takes about 8 ounces of the cremated remains from which the carbon will be extracted. The carbon is then converted to graphite after purification, from which point it is placed in a diamond synthesis press. The diamonds are made via the thermal gradient method by a team of scientists using alloys as a flux at pressures of 5.0–6.0 Pascal and temperatures of 1,600–2,000 °C. The entire process, from cremation to finished stone, takes up to six months for fancy yellow LifeGem diamonds and up to nine months for fancy blue LifeGem diamonds,” rattled off the intellegent one as if he’d learned it as a sales pitch to intrigue the customer. He spoke with a loud, sort of, gasping for air voice that made even his business partners crenge. He was pale with unkempt curly hair and for some odd reason wore a bowtie.
“What ever the hell that meant!” chuckled Marks
“In dumbass terms, it means for a hefty cost we take the remains of your relative and cremate them. Then we place the ashes (which equal carbon) in a machine that gets really hot and has a lot of pressure. Then in due time a diamond is formed,” the smart-aleck one of the bunch spat out. Out of the four he was the best looking in the way that he carried himself. Typical well suited businessman.
“Ok, enough with the bullshit talk, why are you really here?” questioned the rustic dark fellow. He was the youngest of the select few and had a sinister persona about him. Looked as though he could take the position of a grim reaper. He wore all black, but in a respectable manner and his hair was cut into a sleek goatee that trailed back into a finely positioned ponytail.
Marks knew that now was time to pull out the big guns and play his cards right. The whole time he was really feeling out each of their personality type, trying to determine who was who. Once he got his cards straight, he put on his game-face and was ready to play hardball with the big-boys until one of them cracked. He steadily pulled his gun out and laid it on the table as a scare tactic.
“Do you really wanna know? Really? I’ll tell you why, but first I’d like to know how you got here. How does a poor piece of shit like you end up with all this? I’m sorry but money just isn’t written in the books for folks like you. I’ve read your backgrounds. All of you came from impoverished and broken homes. Now how does the scum of the earth end up with all of this! I want to know!” screamed Marks standing up slamming his clubbed fist on the table.
The intelligent one stood up and exclaimed, “Sir, I’m sorry but our business is finished here today. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
Without hesitation Marks calmly reconciled, “No problem.”
With a look of confusion on his face, Mills stood up alongside Marks and the two detectives walked out of the building without a fight. The beautiful clerk parted ways with them, clueless as to what was actually going on.
Once they entered the car Mills questioned his apprentice’s authority, “What the hell was that all about?”
After cranking up the muscle car just to hear the engine roar, Marks explained what just happened, “Son, do you realize they could have had us arrested for the shit we just pulled in there? We busted in like we owned the place, without a warrant or anything. I hope you learned a lesson in there son. Sometimes when you wanna make an omelet you gotta break a few eggs. I got exactly what I wanted from them. Did you see the look on their faces? They all had guilt written all over them. I haven’t seen any sick shit like this since the Mendez Brothers case. Did you see the diamonds mounted on the wall? With those and their parent’s journals in the file we can get a search warrant and take them in for a real interrogation.”
* * *
Dusk had settled in just as the streets cleared and people began to settle into their beds. While most people were hugging their pillow, Marks hugged the bottle. It was going to be the usual night for him; sitting in his lazy-boy with the television blaring, with file in hand pondering about the events to come.
“I won’t be home till late tonight; I’m goin’ out to play bingo with the girls. Don’t wait up, hun, bye I love ya!” Marla squealed as she exited the house.
After a few sitcoms Marks was overwhelmed and grogginess overcame him. Like most men, Marks fell asleep on the couch with the remote in one hand and a bottle in the other. Being passed out and partially drunk he couldn’t smell the fire that in a matter of minutes was about to engulf his house. Flames poured through the hallways as if the house was drenched in gasoline. Fire Marshals would later say that the burners on the stove had not been turned off properly.
Marks opened his eyes and woke frantically not knowing what to do. The degree of the room had risen to such a great height that Marks flesh had seared to the sofa. His clothes had melted to his body forming another layer of skin. Gasping for air and some sort of help he gazed out the window. A black van was sitting outside his house. He screamed with excruciating pain pleading for a savior.
“Would you like me to take away the pain?” the man in black from LifeGem asks peacefully.
“What the…How the… Why the hell are you here? Just help me!” Marks pleaded gravely.
“Oh, I will take away your agony, but first let me answer your question of how we become who we are,” he calmly exclaimed pulling out a filleting knife, “You see, when you sell your soul to the devil there is always a catch. As you already know, we were all grimly deprived. Getting a loan became fairly easy when we guaranteed them over a hundred uncut diamonds. We had every loan-shark in the city offering us massive amounts of money. My brothers have always been fond of rocks since they were little boys. They had a theory that time was trapped inside each stone. We later found a way to synthesize real diamonds from carbon. Anything organic consists of carbon. We tried making diamonds from something as simple as a tree to something illegal as marijuana, but very little actually sold.
“I don’t care about your bullshit diamonds or how they sold! Just for the love god help me!” interrupted Marks begging for mercy.
“I’m afraid god is not beside you tonight, but I will take away your pain,” he whispered while taking the knife and carving away the meat around the bones of his legs, “See, no more pain in your legs. The fact of the matter is they would not sell. We were flabbergasted as to how people had no interest in these beautiful jewels. It is sad to say it took a tragic death for us to realize why.”
“I don’t care anymore, please just kill me and don’t hurt the kid or my wife, please,” instead of help he was now pleading for death.
“We won’t hurt them because we know of their innocence. You on the other hand are surely going to die tonight,” replied the dark intruder filleting off chunks of seared meat placing them in a bag. There was very little blood due to the cooking of the body, drugs were even used to keep his heart pumping, “Now before you die, let me tell you what you wanted to know. Instead of using vegetation, we later tried animals or pets rather, and people began to buy these diamonds. We then came up with a new theory; it wasn’t time trapped in the stone, but rather a spirit. People were actually more attracted to the spirit rather than the gem. To prove this idea (and our desperate need of money) all four of us decided that our parents must sacrifice their lives. Conveniently, all four of our parents died in a horrific car accident. Because we wanted their remains, similar to you, the coroner had to peel their flesh from the car seats.”
Blacking out, Marks was no longer responsive. The gloomy associate gave him a shot of adrenaline to keep him alive long enough to hear him out. To get Marks to open his eyes the ominous man slapped him in the face; doing so a piece of Marks jaw stuck to his hand. He shoves it into the bag along with the rest of Marks tissue.
“I’m not done with you yet,” he smiled while patting him on the chest, “We made over three hundred diamonds from their remains. To our surprise we sold them for thousands; to people from little old ladies to big time executives. We then realized it wasn’t the diamond they wanted; it was the soul of the diamond that was so precious. We made millions, bought our degrees, and are now making diamonds out of loved ones. I hope you’re satisfied, congratulations, you’ve cracked your last case!”
The death dealer exited the burning house and entered the van watching the fire trucks pull in behind him. It was too late.
* * *
A courier enters Detective Lieutenant David Mills’s office and hands him a small leather box with the title LifeGem embroidered into it. Mills opens it and pulls out a certificate of authenticity that read: In Memory Of…George Ethan Marks. He laid the piece of paper down and pulled out two 2 carat diamonds that had the initials G.E.M. engraved into them.
“You must have lived one hell of a life G.E.M.,” Mills exaggerated ironically as he picked up both of the rocks and thought to himself, Marks life and burying this case was a small price to pay to have my father Gerald Evan Mills knocked off, as he slipped the diamonds into his pocket.
Case Closed.