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Murderous Intent (Bits of Kinky)

Short story By: BITSxOFxKINKY
Mystery and crime



Ok I got this idea for a crime sort story being my / our first attempt i will admit i got a little confused i sort of have a 1950's style of cop then bounce to csi type please forgive this and i hope you enjoy the story anyway :)


Submitted:Feb 26, 2012    Reads: 29    Comments: 2    Likes: 2   


Murderous Intent

His breath reeked of last nights whiskey and stale cigarettes. The current one dangling an ash that breaks loose to cascade from that glowing red tip, to tumble downward leaving an ash scattered trail on his tie. One more stain to add contrast to his latest meal's red sauce. The ash finally disintegrating against the paunch of the belly as it strained to escape from the shirt that imprisoned its mass. His gaze must have followed my own because his hand brushed absently at the ash as he drops the butt to the ground. His foot grinding the offending nicotine stick into oblivion between leather soul and stone pavement.

Taking my eyes from the cigarette butt I ask, "So tell me what drags me out of a warm bed on such a cold morning."

"Sorry boss, but its a bad one. Single female. Lives alone. No sign of break in. Three witnesses say they were having a party last night, and they all fell asleep after drinking a lot. They didn't hear anything, and didn't see anything. They woke up to find her like that."

His face is pale and I wonder what the hell had happened to cause this man of 25 years in the service to blanch. I start to regret stopping for coffee and muffins on the way over. Especially when out through the door burst a rookie in his pristine uniform. Vomit bursting forth down those impeccably pressed uniform trousers. I leave the rookie in my partners capable hands, as he administers some consolatory heavy thumps on the greenhorn back. To the booming gruff voice shouting "Get it up son. Better out than in laddie." I shove open the front door of the apartment building and make my way up to the white clad figures waiting at the top of the first flight of stairs.

Pleasantries consisting mainly of nods were quickly dismissed as I gowned up in the white clinical bodysuit gloves and boot covers, that we all had to wear at a crime site these days. Crime was no longer door to door foot slogging and gut instinct. It was science, forensics and reams of never ending paperwork. The pathologists, photographer, and finger printer, had just finished with the crime scene and I followed the lead crime scene investigator into the flat. A Doctor Ruth MacIntyre, in her fifties and looking more suited to being a school head or a librarian than a crime scene investigator, but damn this woman new her stuff. We have worked together on many previous cases and I prefer her to many of the other CSI teams because I like her direct forthright manner.

"Good morning sir." her soft Irish voice still carried a slight twang that this city couldn't hide even though she had lived here for many years. "The body's in the kitchen follow me please stay on the paper matting. We've processed the carpet, but there's bloody prints and splatter everywhere."

I nodded as I slowly followed in her footsteps past the living room entrance. Uniformed cops standing at each of the bed room coral the witnesses into their rooms where they can be re-interviewed as information materialized. Glancing left, and right, taking in each room as I pass, noting the layout of the apartment. Entering the kitchen a breakfast bar stretches across the room dividing the dining room and kitchen work area. The large dining room table is festooned with party debris. The stale smell of food and booze isn't strong enough to cover the thick cloying aroma of blood.

"Looks like they had a great night," I said to Ruth, nodding to the empty bottles and glasses scattered everywhere.

"Not so great." Ruth said as she stood near the far wall. A large fish tank beside her with the front of the glass covered with little yellow stickers. They were little arrows with numbers on them used to indicate the direction of flow for each of the blood droplet splatterings. The numbered arrows coated most of the surfaces, walls, and even a few had reached the tube lighting on the ceiling. I moved around being careful not to step in the water splattered around from the fish tank and stood looking down at the body on the floor.

My mind tried to decipher the scene portrayed before me as the doctors voice talked me through what I was seeing in her scientific manner. It seemed a contradiction this wasn't scientific this was carnage, intense rage or revenge, closer to insanity than murder. There was no body as such just a bloodied eviscerated heap within a sludgy puddle of congealed blood.

"I wont be able to say for sure until I get her back to the lab and do an autopsy, but I would say she's been stabbed or slashed at least 20 times if not more, by several sharp implements going by the amount of blood loss and splattering." She paused before saying quietly, "She put up a quite a fight. Didn't die quietly."

I nodded asking "Any estimate on time of death? Anything else you can give me before the autopsy."

"You know I shouldn't really, but..." looking down at the congealed mess by her feet. A strand of grey hair sneaks out from beneath the hooded protective suit and her hand tucked it back in absent-mindedly. "I would guess at ten hours give or take three hours either way she smiled apologetically. so approximately about two o'clock in the morning. Come down to the mortuary in a couple of hours and I will be able to tell you much more. With that she brushed past me and waved the team in to move the body.

Edging out of the room, as I did not want to watch this. Checking out the other rooms there is nothing that seems out of place or to expect foul play, no obvious motives stashed away under mattresses or anything illegal taped to the undersides of drawers. I stand in the doorway where the three prime suspects were placed in separate corners with a constable strategically placed between to deter conversation. The oldest of the trio, his hair beginning to carry that slight silvery hue of age, The other male sits rigid like a caged animal, but the female lounges on the arm of the chair, reaching playfully toward the police officer closest in a seductively coy manner, the arrogance of youthfulness.

All three turned as one, as I stood looking at each of them, and stared back at me without blinking, their fidgeting forgotten. Six, impassively, cold, emotionless, eyes staring like that documentary I saw the other night on predatory tigers of Asia. Tiger eyes burning bright, but these eyes held no fire. No sign of shock or stress shown within them, and I knew within my heart, I had the culprits of this heinous crime. All I have to do now, is prove it.

I call out, over my shoulder, "Sergeant," as he comes to stand beside me. I nod my head into the room. "Take them to the station and keep them separated till I get there." Turning I leave glad to get that smell of blood out of my nostrils and replace it with the smell of a busy street and worn leather seats.

I always hated the rear entrance of this place. It looks and smells like an abattoir I had once lived near. An old Victorian hospital, now converted, but it had that prison look and feel to it. Dark, damp, and rather spooky, that hairs on the back of your neck standing to attention as if some ghostly breath had blown across them. My shoes echo off the walls as I make my way down the long hallway to the autopsy room next to the morgue.

Swinging open the large metal door and enter the clinically bright sterile room. Ruth calls me over to her desk. "You've missed the autopsy I finished a few moments ago." My smile showed broadly that I didn't mind in the least, "So tell me Ruth, in layman's or flatfoot language, how and when did she die."

"She was ripped to pieces with what I can only described as butcher's meat hooks, but that wasn't what killed her. She suffocated to death, very slowly. She has extensive bruising over her whole body, before and after death. Death occurred between midnight and three in the morning."

Ruth continued to reel off stats from the blood and tissue tests, but the basics were covered. I let her ramble on for a while before I cut in, "And the suspects anything on the three them."

She paused, smiled, and beckoned, me to follow her. Pointing to a microscope and then some photos on the wall. "Hair fibres, swabs of blood samples, bloody footprints and other rather graphic close up shots of wounds. Plenty of evidence, still waiting on DNA results, but everything indicates all three participating. We will have to wait for all the tests to be done but," Ruth nodded at me as she talked, "they did it, all three of them."

I thanked her and retraced my steps back to my car. and drove back to the station. "No good cop, bad cop today, we go in hard and fast." I grinned at my Sargent, "You ready?" I threw the door of the interview room open knowing it would slam back against the wall eliciting the desired crash, making everyone in the room jump. The female of the trio twitched so high at the noise her butt left the chair. Sitting down again as I threw photos of the victim onto the table in front of her. Bloody wounds in glorious colour detailed from every angle. My eyes inches from her pale blue ones as I finally stop infringing on her personal space. Neither of us blinked.

"We have all the proof we need, you were covered in blood and DNA. So here is the situation, we will offer one of the three of you a chance to give evidence against the other two for a lighter sentence. You have 10 seconds, 9, 8, 7." She flinched, but those eyes stayed cold and her mouth never opened to utter a word. "3, 2, 1, times up. Not talking. Your loss." I picked up all the photos shuffling them into shape like a pack of gruesome playing cards, and walked out the room. I repeated the act in the other two rooms, but received the same cold stares and no comment response.

"Sargent read them their rights, offer them the chance to lawyer up, and charge them with murder. Lets see if that will get them to talk."

I stood watching impassively as each suspect was charged.

Sylvester Tabby and Tiddles you are charged that on the night of the 20th November, in your owners house, you did abduct, torture, and murder, Bobbie the goldfish. You do not have to say anything unless you wish to do so, but I must warn you. That if you fail to mention any fact which you rely on in your defence in court, your failure to take this opportunity to mention it may be treated in court as supporting any relevant evidence against you. If you do wish to say anything, what you say may be given in evidence. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, a lawyer will be provided for you by the court.

By Tracey Owen & Brian Rueby

Copyright Nov 2011





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