The chronological order of my stories is now listed in WifeWatchman's biography.
Feedback and
constructive
criticism is very much appreciated, and I encourage feedback for ideas.
This story contains graphic scenes, language and actions that might be extremely offensive to some people. These scenes, words and actions are used only for the literary purposes of this story. The author does not condone murder, racial language, violence, rape or violence against women, and any depictions of any of these in this story should not be construed as acceptance of the above.
Part 5 - Patterns of Death
I looked around the small room. It was on the third floor above a sex toys shop in the City's Red Light District. Immediately below on the second floor was a room where Betty Lamarr had brought customers for sexual encounters. This top floor room was where she lived.
There was a stove and sink, and a few cooking and eating utensils. A futon bed on the floor near the front window. A closet full of dresses for her work, and a small chest of drawers with regular clothes.
"Not much here." Cindy said. "I get the feeling she just stayed here from time to time, maybe weekends, when she wasn't at School."
"Yeah." I said. "By the way, there was no car registration under either of her names, in either State. So what was she driving?"
"Loaner from a sugar daddy?" Cindy suggested.
"Possibly." I said. "But it could be important to find that out. Okay, the crime occurred downstairs. Let's go."
In that room was a bed, a closet full of sheets, a dresser that contained sex toys and some costumery for role play, and clamp-on lamps everywhere. And on the floor in the middle of the room, was a large stain... a blood stain.
"No weapons found." Cindy said. "Nor upstairs. No knives of any kind, except for eating purposes. And no dinner knife did that to the girl's chest and heart."
"Well," I said, "the important thing is that if she was murdered here, then it's our case. Log in as an SBI Reservist, starting this moment." We did so.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
2:00pm, Monday, November 14th. As we sat around the FBI conference room table, eating subway sandwiches, I said "The Governor has directed Tom Conlan to give me the lead on this case as an SBI Reservist. With that done, I've made the formal request on behalf of the SBI Reserve for the FBI's continued assistance, what with the body and evidence being found on the line and other side of the line, and the nature of who she was and who her family is. We're also notifying the Federal Court of all this."
"And we've agreed to assist." said Jack Muscone. "What's next?"
"The autopsy report." I said. "Martha and your FBI forensics people are already done with the physical work, and we're only waiting for lab results, DNA, and all that stuff. She is going to give her report after we eat, rather than while we eat."
"Tanya Perlman would've been pissed if she were here." said Cindy. "She likes to eat during autopsy reports... and during autopsies themselves."
"That woman has a stomach of steel." said Jack Muscone.
"That makes one of us." I said as I finished off my sub.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Before we began the autopsy." said Martha the M.E., "I ran the sonograms and x-rays. You were right to ask me to do that, Commander." She stepped up to the monitor on the wall and typed into it's computer, bringing up a sonogram photo. "As you can see, from these patterns here, it's definitely a shockwave. Knife stabbings cannot do that."
"So what does that mean?" asked Cindy.
"It means," said Martha, "that the girl died by a gunshot wound to the heart."
"Gunshot wound?" gasped Sandra Speer. "Then why all the stabbing? To make sure?"
"No." I said. "To mask the fact that it
was
a gunshot. The killer was trying to destroy the wound channel."
"And he or she did," said Martha, "except that the shockwave is still evident in the tissues, and the exit wound was not fully destroyed by the knife wounds. The bullet was not found in the body, by the way."
"We've got to find that bullet!" exclaimed Jack Muscone. I held up my hand.
"Relax, relax." I said. "I told Sapper Warren to have the City C.S.I. look all over for a bullet. They dug one out near the window, and are testing the tissues embedded in it to confirm it went through Tiffany."
Just then, the young FBI Agent from before came to the door. "Sir, I have two City Police Officers here to see Commander Troy."
"Just in time." I said. "Have them come in."
City Police Detectives Sapper Warren, a big black man that once played football, and Robin Ventura, also black and the daughter of the University Campus Police Commissioner, came into the room.
"Hello Commander, everyone." Sapper said. "The City Police Commissioner has agreed to let us work with you, and only you and Captain Ross. We don't like the SBI much here in the City, but we make an exception for the Iron Crowbar and his partner."
"And I'm glad to have you two working with me." I said. I introduced everyone. "So, you found the bullet and they're examining it. By the way, everyone... can we keep that out of the public record for now? Let the Media and the Public think it's a stabbing?"
"Yes sir." said Robin Ventura. "Martha has already sealed the autopsy report, citing the need for a Coroner's Inquest. That will take a couple of days, at least."
"If it 'leaks' that it was a stabbing death, I won't be upset." I said. "Okay, what about a car for Tiffany?"
"Nothing so far, Commander." said Robin Ventura. "We ran DMV checks in every State for both names, and nothing came up. We checked on cars owned by her parents; only two registered to him, in the State east of us, and they're the type of models that would be stolen in fifteen seconds from the area where this girl lived."
I just nodded, then went into a reverie. When I finally came out, I noticed that everyone was staring at me.
"I'd love to be in your head when you do that." said Sandra Speer.
