Death By ... <b>Part One of Two</b> -- LFN Storyboard 1

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Date Posted: 14:43:53 07/29/14 Tue
Author: ranma=>
Author Host/IP: ip68-103-240-243.ks.ok.cox.net / 68.103.240.243
Subject: Death By ... Part One of Two
In reply to: ranma=> 's message, "Death By ..." on 14:38:49 07/29/14 Tue

Michael glanced up as his partner, Jurgen, stopped the car.

They had arrived in front of a single-story ranch house in one of the older neighborhoods. Based on the surrounding homes, it was obvious that the area was being revitalized, slowly, by do-it-yourself home owners.

No doubt it was usually more sedate than it currently was with the coroner's van just now pulling away and several police and paramedic vehicles still gathered around.

He folded the preliminary paperwork he'd been scanning and pushed it into his pocket. With a wordless glance at his partner, he pulled out his notepad and the two exited the vehicle, making their way up the slightly sloped lawn and into the house.

The first officer on the scene was waiting for them and started to speak, but Jurgen stepped over to talk with him. After all this time together, the two of them had a rhythm going. Jurgen knew that Michael didn't like to hear other cop's opinions of what happened. He liked to observe and interview witnesses without anyone else thoughts echoing in his head.

While Jurgen spoke with the first responder, Michael looked around.

At the front of the house, just inside the door was an open bag of quick-patch cement powder and a crusted trowel. That explained the newly repaired driveway and partially patched look of the front porch.

A denim backpack lay haphazardly on the floor near the door. What looked like a college English textbook was partially exposed as well as some papers with writing on them.

A little farther inside, against the far wall was, sat a new can of porch and deck paint, still sealed.

This led his examination to the living room, where the furniture looked dated and mismatched but still comfortable. A lamp lay on the floor, broken and marked with an evidence identifier. Upon closer examination, it was apparent from long-standing dimples evident in the carpet that one of the chairs and the couch had recently been moved from their normal spots.

He could hear the sound of a female crying coming from the kitchen and his gut tightened in reaction. No matter how long he'd been on the job, the victims could still get to him. He pushed that thought aside and concentrated on doing his job. It was the best, the only, way he could render assistance to those in need.

There was the slight scent of drying paint in the air and he figured that meant that the home improvement projects had happened inside as well as out.

He moved to stand in the kitchen doorway, and could see this was where the action had happened. A drying smear of blood on the floor was highlighted by the traditional body outline. Broken dishes and glassware and some pans were scattered about the area in what was, unfortunately, a familiar pattern of domestic violence.

He saw a paintbrush partially draped over the sink, the color staining the handle matching the walls. A bright yellow in stark contrast to the chaos.

A middle-aged woman sat in one chair, the paramedic still working on her. From the medical debris visible in the hazardous waste bag it seemed a lot of blood had been wiped off of the woman. Her face had the puffiness from crying competing with newly blossomed bruises on her mouth and cheeks. The tell-tale marks around her throat spoke of attempting murder.

The paramedic finished applying a butterfly bandage to the woman's forehead and glanced over at Michael. It was Lisa, he had recognized her paramedic vehicle number, and the look she gave him was a mixture of lust and disdain. He knew she was professional enough to not say anything at the scene, but could well imagine a rather nasty email in his future. Their brief encounter a few months ago had been too brief for her and too long for him. Things had not ended well.

"She should go to the hospital and get checked out, but I knew you wanted to speak with her," Lisa stated crisply, starting to pack her kit. All the cleaning supplies and a list of the items used would be forwarded to their precinct, he knew.

"Thank you," he stated quietly, his accent smoothing the words a little and he could see her quick grimace before she nodded shortly and hastily moved out of the kitchen, and away from him.

"Mrs. Wirth?" he asked softly, stepping into the woman's field of vision. He could see further evidence of a fight as he moved closer to the woman. He paused a moment as he looked just past her chair at an upside butter bowl which lay marked off and was currently being photographed by the Scene Investigator. It was one of those plastic bowls that some people save when the butter is gone and use as bowls for soups and such. Something clicked in his brain, but he was diverted when the woman looked up at his question.

Her startling blue eyes filled with more tears as her lips trembled and her cracked voice filled the room. "I did it, I killed him. I killed David." Her voice escalated with each word until she practically screamed the name.

Around him, he felt every member of the response force pause at the confession.

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Replies:

Death By ... Part Two of Two -- ranma=>, 14:51:39 07/29/14 Tue