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

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Date Posted: 14:51:39 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 Two of Two
In reply to: ranma=> 's message, "Death By ..." on 14:38:49 07/29/14 Tue

'Spontaneous confession,' was not as common an occurrence as television would have you believe.

"Mom!" another voice interrupted, which caused Michael to glance in that direction. Only his learned detachment and
hard-earned professionalism allowed him to keep his face impassive as he saw the owner of the newest voice.

She was a slim, tall blonde with fine, though bruised, features. Only her eyes matched the woman silently sobbing in front of him. If seen on the street, he would have been hard-pressed to connect the two women and yet, apparently, they were family.

He watched her approach Mrs. Wirth. She was escorted by a female officer who carried the familiar clothing evidence
bag and a grim look on her face.

"Mom, stop it! Don't make things worse," the girl pleaded, kneeling down to gently hold her mother's hands.

"But, Nikita," the woman's ragged voice quieted to almost a whisper. There was an insincerity in her tone as she
protested as though she hoped to be convinced to change her plea.

The girl named Nikita, stood up and faced him. There was a very distinct hand-print bruise slowing emerging on her
face, covering almost the whole left side. "I killed him," she stated quietly, her voice shaking a little, but resolute. Her blue eyes making contact with his without subterfuge.

"He was beating her, I had to stop him," she started to explain, but quieted when Michael held up his hand, palm out.

"Let's start at the beginning shall we?" he prompted, nodding to the only other chair still upright by the table. "First, who are you?"

***

Michael was skilled in his ability to gather information and Nikita seemed only too willing to detail what had happened.

While she still held her mother's hand, she did not falter when Roberta, her mother, tried to protest that David Fanning was not in the habit of beating on her.

Micheal's own search of the residence history had shown him several instances of the police being called out to this
address in response to domestic violence complaints. Roberta had, however, declined to press charges again and
again so the police were stymied as it appeared from responding officer's notes that David Fanning had smugly
denied any wrongdoing.

Michael remembered the notation on the paper that was now burning a hole in his pocket. Apparently, the belief was
that Roberta would eventually be the victim of a homicide, not David.

Nikita explained that she was home for spring break and had been working on the house in between trips to the library
to research her thesis. David had shown her how to mix concrete but would not help with the repairs. Because of this, she was only able to mix small amounts and do sections at a time, instead of just doing the whole thing at once.

She had come home from the library and could hear the screaming as she came up the steps. She had run inside,
apparently tossing her backpack down before she entered the kitchen and pulled David off of her mother. David had
been enraged and had slapped her, knocking her back against the sink area. She didn't even remember grabbing
anything but she had and she had used it to hit him on the head as he had been straddling Roberta strangling her.

David had fallen on her mother and had bled quite a bit as she struggled to move him off Roberta. By the time they had
succeeded and pushing his bulk off, both she and Roberta knew he was dead and they were drenched in his blood.

Michael asked a few more questions, mainly to assuage his own curiosity. Nikita was attending the local university on a scholarship and had taken a job as Dorm Adviser to offset the cost of dorm living. She was a History Major.

Jurgen did his usual routine of gathering information from the technicians and making sure reports and photographs
were labeled and logged.

When the two of them finally returned to their car, Jurgen turned to Michael, "Well?" he prompted.

Michael had an almost perfect record for being able to predict a case's outcome. Michael folded his notepad and
tucked it into his breast pocket. "It's a new one - death by butter bowl."

Jurgen looked stunned. "Butter bowl?" he repeated.

Michael nodded. "She, the daughter, Nikita, had been using a spare butter bowl to mix the concrete patch in. You can
see, she's done quite a bit of work. Well, apparently, she didn't clean it each time, so ... it was like hitting him with a mallet."

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