Creative Writing?

Question

What do you think of my start:

Officer Mcklowskie drained the last dregs of his cup of coffee. They’d received the call at five in the morning: a woman was calling from her cellar on her mobile, locked down there with her son, the father upstairs taking a baseball bat to their home. By the time they’d got there, both the mother and the boy were dead, their heads caved in by what the rport would later describe as “a blunt instrument”.
“Like hell” thought Mcklowskie. “Should read: ‘Smashed to ******* bits by a baseball bat at the hand of some twisted creep’”. He sighed. Red tape - what can you do? He reflected that it was pretty much the way of the world these days. Police forces tied up by beuocracy and unable to do little more than take statements.
“Hey, Mcklowskie?”. Mcklowskie turned, his faded jacket creasing noiselessly in the drone of the car radio burbling details to and from local units. Not that there were very many: most had been called to sort this god awful mess out

Officer Fernandez was a striking man. One of those men who you could recognise anywhere as somehow different. His stubble though didn’t help his tired, sunken face. The skin clung to his cheekbones as if trying to hold itself from falling right off his face. The sad grey eyes told of a man who’d seen much, and like Mcklowskie, been able to do very little.
“Fernandez. Whats the situation with the forensics?” Mcklowskie asked. He knew instantly that this was the wrong thing to say. Fernandez looked away quickly and sighed before returning his gaze to Mcklowskie’s. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I think you’d better take a look at this”.
The two cops ducked under the “do not cross ” tape, and moved over the front lawn to the house. It was a typical suburban bungalow with a white picket fence around the front porch. A childs tricycle stood just across from them, its streamers flickering in the air like comet tails. “That’s always the worse thing”, Mcklowskie said, “Its a

lways somewhere normal, completely inconspicuous. Could happen on my own damn street”. Fernandez grunted and continued to lope towards the house. The blue and red lights from the emergency vehicles beat against the wood panelling of the exterior. The door itself was hanging of its hinges, the screen door lying in tatters. The instant they walked in, they could pretty much tell the story for themselves. Man comes home after hitting the liquer and smashes the door down after his terrified wife refuses to let him in. The man loses his temper , and beats the wife across the head. That would explain the first spatter of blood on the floor. He drags her across the hall and to the cellar door, blood trickling from his spuse’s head and staining the cheap white carpet flooring. He reaches the door but obviously meets some resistance: the son probably, trying to stop daddy from beating mommy. A second spatter of blood on the wall indicates the kid was probably hit too

From my mind

Answer 1

That's really well written. You could tune up the language. You know, try to sound more professional. Avoid 'star' language for one.

Answer 2

what is this from?