Post-Mortem, page 3
part #2 of Sapphic Sphere Series
She looked at the disaster that was once her living room and attempted to suck in a calming breath. She noted that when she was able to talk to a counselor about this, she would label this as panicking – but controlled panicking. She slowly made her way to the master bedroom door, and gingerly pushed it open. “Bram?” She stepped into the room and half-heard, half-felt a cold, wet squish under her shoe.
She flicked on the light, and all she saw was red.
Bloody Hell
Cherry -
Cherry’s phone buzzed. She considered not looking at the caller ID since it was extremely likely that the call was from her mother… again. She gave in on the third buzz and peeked at the phone – it was the office.
Damnit.
“This is Cherry,” she spat at the phone, resenting being pulled from a night of streaming the latest season of Orange Is the New Black.
“Hi Cherry – we got a fresh one for you,” the dispatcher said with a tiny bit of humor and then gave her the address. “I guess it’s a gruesome one, so it’s right up your alley.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah… Every dead body is right up my alley. Medical Examiner and all that.”
“Uh huh. When should I tell them to be expecting you?”
“Umm…” Chery mentally calculated the drive time and added an additional five minutes for getting into appropriate clothing, “About thirty minutes, maybe less.” The dispatcher hung up and Cherry rushed around her house and into the official vehicle that they let her have when she was on call.
When she arrived at the crime scene, she was surprised when she was told that Detective Holder was in charge.
Wasn’t that shitbag relegated to meter maid?
She climbed the cement stairs to the house and entered through the ominous looking, black front door. The house was a complete mess. Everything that could be tossed, was – except for the front hall mirror. Everything else had been shattered, spilled, or smashed.
Fuck. I don’t want to go another step further into this house, it’s starting to smell funky and I haven’t even seen the carnage yet.
Cherry spotted Detective Mullens and nodded at him. He nodded back and made his way carefully over the disaster area that would be called a kitchen if not utterly destroyed. He caught up with her in the front hall and said, “Hey Cherry. We got an awful fucking mess in here.”
“Yeah, I can see that. Where’s this corpse that I have a date with? Are they buried underneath a pile of garbage or what?” Cherry asked.
“Nah. His body is in the Master – which in comparison to the kitchen is clean-ish,” he pointed to a doorway off the kitchen.
“Uh huh. And when did we find him?”
“Well, I’d say about an hour ago is when we got the call. I’m not really sure when she found him. She’s been pretty mute since we got here.”
“She–?” Cherry asked.
“Oh, yeah. The wife found him, but she’s not talking.”
“Uh huh,” Cherry rolled her head from side to side and popped her neck. “So, you think she did it then?”
“I dunno, Holder does.”
“Ah yes… Holder. How did he end up getting back to Detective Holder? I thought after the last incident that he was Meter Maid material forever.”
“Nope,” Mullens said and squeezed his mouth shut in a tight line.
Cherry eyeballed him for a few moments. He was in his later thirties, rumpled attire, sandy brown hair – nothing special. His partner, on the other hand, was supposedly God’s gift to women. Though many times Cherry suspected that he was overcompensating in that regard. Holder was dark haired, laser-blue-eyed, tall, lean, and definitely mean.
“That’s all you’re going to give me?” Cherry asked, raising an eyebrow and frowning at his lack of interest in sharing.
“Look, all I know is I am teamed up with him. I have to get used to having him on my team, period.” He swung his head around making sure he couldn’t be overheard and quietly said, “He’s got his detective badge back, but he’s on probation. No way do I want to be teamed up with this moronic, misogynistic, homophobic moron.” He paused for a minute and moved his head in closer to Cherry’s, “He doesn’t know I’m gay – and he keeps making fucked up homophobic comments. I’m thinking about turning him in for harassment.”
“You should. That is bullshit,” Cherry hissed through gritted teeth. “I can’t believe you haven’t done it already.”
He rolled his eyes at her and countered, “Yeah – I don’t exactly want to out myself to the entire department. Plus, I don’t want to be seen as a snitch – we’re supposed to be on the same team.”
Cherry squeezed his arm and gently said, “Mullens, trust me when I say this, Holder has a one man team. It’s just him. No one else. Nobody wants that guy around. Do what you need to, but don’t suffer for the sake of suffering.”
Mullens pinched his eyes tightly together and gave a curt nod, though Cherry was still skeptical as to whether he would actually come forward to the chief.
Cherry shrugged at Mullens and said, “Well, lead the way sir, and I’ll try to get through this mess as quickly as possible. Though, to be quite honest, it looks like an all-nighter. Do you know who else is coming in to assist?”
“Uhhh, no.”
“Helpful,” she deadpanned.
Blondes, Blades, & Blood
Cherry -
Cherry followed Mullens through the kitchen, trying not to disturb any of the potential evidence. She paused in the kitchen and looked left towards the living room. She spotted Holder and sneered internally.
He was standing over a delicately featured blond woman. He was gesticulating wildly and speaking in an aggressive tone, but the woman seemed unphased. She just sat on an upturned piece of furniture, staring blankly.
Cherry frowned at the scene and thought that the woman seemed very out of place. If she had to put money on it – that woman hadn’t ever seen a dead person and certainly didn’t kill anyone. She was perfectly coifed, timid looking, and was obviously in the throes of shock.
Oh boy, a regular Barbie – I’m sure Holder is intermittently hitting on her and accusing her of murder. Poor thing – looks frozen in horror, he needs to lay off for a minute.
She continued to stare in the traumatized widow’s direction as she pulled on blue nitrile gloves and braced herself for whatever gory situation lay beyond the doorway. Zoning out on the scene in the living room, she mentally berated herself for calling the woman a Barbie. If anything, she was extraordinarily beautiful in that ‘don’t touch the artwork’ kind of way. In fact, she almost didn’t look real.
Interesting that her makeup isn’t running…
Cherry shook her head and mentally urged herself to focus. She shimmied past an overturned kitchen stool and followed Mullens into the master.
“Holy…” Cherry started.
“Yep – white carpet, can’t keep it clean,” Mullens joked quietly.
Cherry gave Mullens a ‘that was inappropriate’ look and stared at the bloody scene in front of her. It wasn’t too horrifying for a seasoned medical examiner, but she thought about the Barbie in the other room and instantly felt sorry for her.
Shit – finding THIS when you come home? No wonder she looks like a test pattern.
The bedroom was torn apart – paintings ripped off the walls and slashed, feather pillows ripped open – their innards spewed onto what was once a bed which was smashed into kindling, and the nightstands had been ripped from the walls. The doorway to the bathroom revealed a similar level of destruction, but Cherry focused on the dead man on the floor.
The once pristine, white carpet was saturated with blood. Cherry noticed a few blood infused footprints starting in the blood near the light switch and then heading out of the room. The size of the footprint was small, almost a child size – definitely the wife’s foot.
Cherry circled the gruesome scene, being sure to step over the blood spatter. To get to the body, it was necessary for Cherry to don a pair of shoe covers. She stepped gingerly and away from where she believed the killer must’ve been standing when the murder was committed. She popped on her wireless headset and started recording verbal notes and observations. She took the temperature of the body, described the amount of lividity, and looked for traces of insect larvae. She also made careful measurements and didn’t notice that more CSI staff had arrived until a flash from the camera jolted her.
“Sorry Cherry,” said one of the techs, “I tried to get your attention, but you were in the zone.”
Cherry blinked hard, trying to rid her eyes of the flash’s effects. “It’s okay Jenn, but next time, you gotta get my attention – I’m half blind right now and hovering over a corpse – not good.”
“Oh dear, I didn’t think about that, so sorry,” Jenn apologized again.
“It’s okay, but it’s not like you want me in the shot,” Cherry reminded her.
“Yeah, I know, but I’ve been waiting on you for ten minutes and Holder said if I didn’t start shooting, he was going to call in a different team.”
Cherry rolled her eyes and stood up, “Holder doesn’t have any control over who is on this scene. He thinks he’s God – or the son of God – but he’s not. Just give me a few more minutes, I’m not done with my measurements. Why don’t you go see what damage was done in the bathroom – judging by the blood trail, our killer went in there to clean up.” Jenn nodded and started taking pictures along the way.
Cherry moved methodically around the body, making sure she didn’t miss any potential evidence. She knew her actions and observations could make or break a case. That meant her work could mean the difference between putting a monster behind bars or letting them roam free.
Once finished with the scene, she called Jenn back in and had a meeting with the rest of her CSI staff. She reminded them that while the police were officially in charge of the scene, the CSI team was in charge of collecting evidence.
“Keep focused. Don’t move anything until you’ve taken a picture. Categorize everything.” She was distracted by a wildly gesticulating Holder in the other room, his normally pale skin was sunburned looking, and judging by his hair pulling and sneering, he was pissed about something. “Did I say keep focused?” Cherry asked, causing everyone to chuckle. “This one is majorly bloody, so try not to smear any blood spatter until we have the calculations, measurements, and pictures taken… Aaaaaand break!”
With the short meeting over, Cherry moved towards the bedroom door nodded at Mullens. He quickly made his way to her and said, “You about done?”
Cherry gave him a sideways look, “Well, I can give you death specifics if you’d like, but my team has to check out all of this mess before they’re done.”
“Yeah, I get that, I’m asking if you’re done. I could use your help with something.”
“If it’s distracting Holder while you knock him out, I’m in.”
“Not quite…” Mullens moved closer to Cherry and began to speak with her in a conspiratorial tone. “The victim’s wife isn’t snapping out of it, and I was hoping that you might be able to massage the witness a little for us.”
“Umm…” Cherry was caught off guard and jerked her head back, eyeing him strangely, “That really isn’t my area.”
“As far as I can recall, getting beautiful women to talk to you kind of is your area,” Mullens suggested raising both his eyebrows and shooting her a devilish smile.
Cherry swatted at him playfully and countered, “Generally, the beauties that I talk to are more interested in my mouth than what’s coming out of it.”
“Not the way I heard it,” Mullens said with a wink. Cherry shot him a doubtful look and he continued, “I heard all about how brilliant you are from a friend over at the firehouse. You certainly lit her fire… for a while anyway.”
“Look, we’re getting far afield. What the hell do you want me to do?” Cherry asked, avoiding discussing an old relationship she had with one of Boston’s most famous female firefighters.
Mullens smirked at her and got back to business, “I’m thinking you sit down with her for a few minutes, get her to come out of her shocked state, and then we’ll take over from there. Just get her to feel comfortable. She’s not talking, she’s barely moving, and the EMTs said there’s nothing technically wrong with her.”
Cherry glanced over Mullens’ shoulder, checking out the beautiful woman she was supposed to magically wake up. The blonde bombshell was sitting in the same place Cherry had seen her in when she arrived.
She REALLY is incredibly attractive, but she looks wicked uptight.
“I don’t know. Don’t you have a female cop that can cozy up to her?” Cherry asked, looking around the scene for a stand in.
“No. Not one that looks like you,” Mullens said, giving her a pointed look.
Cherry held her arms out, “Clearly, you have me mistaken for someone else.”
“Cherry, shut the fuck up. You’re beautiful, smart, and disarmingly charming when you want to be. Now take off your bloody smock and go get that woman to come back to reality.”
She pinched her face into a scowl, saw the pleading look in Mullens’ eyes, and let out a loud sigh. “Fine. But next time we go for drinks – you’re buying.”
Mullens’ face lit up and Cherry rolled her eyes at his obvious delight. “Just give me a few minutes with my team and then I’ll get out of my death gear.”
Hidden Dragon
Ana -
“Ma’am? Ma’am? You’re going to have to talk to me at some point. I’m the detective in charge and I need some answers. Ma’am?” Detective Holder waved his hand in front of Ana’s face.
Ana didn’t like the look of Detective Holder. He was too pretty, and that prettiness had an edge to it. His smile reminded her of Bram – all teeth nothing behind the eyes.
Soulless.
Well, that’s just ridiculous Ana – everyone has a soul.
Ana shook herself mentally but remained mute, not knowing what to do next. She had remained silent since getting off the phone with the 911 dispatcher. She just didn’t know what to do. Bram would’ve known what to do, but he wasn’t available for advice. He was dead.
So much blood!
Ana covered her face with her hands, placed her elbows on her knees, and tried to un-see the gory picture that was her husband. The detective let out a big sigh and spoke quietly to the nicer seeming detective.
“We’re not gonna get anything outta this bitch,” he started, “she’s nice to look at but I don’t think she’s that bright.”
“Holder, chill with that, would you?” hissed the other detective. Ana felt more than heard them move further away, still speaking in hushed tones.
“She just came home to this…” Ana imagined that the other detective was gesturing to the apartment, “and her husband has been slain. I mean, how would you be doing?”
“I don’t know – I don’t have a husband. I’m no faggot,” Holder insisted.
“Listen, you’re really starting to piss me off – can’t you empathize with her situation at all?” the other detective said through gritted teeth.
“Sure, man. I can empathize. I think what she really needs is a comforting hand,” Holder said suggestively.
“You’re right. She does. That’s why I’ve asked Cherry to speak with her.”
“That dyke? Geez, you really know how to pick ‘em.”
“She’s professional. And women like her. Can’t say the same about you.”
“Fuck you and your mother,” Holder said much more loudly than before.
Ana popped her head up and out of her hands at that moment and stared at the two men, crinkling the skin between her brows. She hadn’t ever seen a fight between adults before, but knew that those words generally started one.
The two men were poised in an A shape; their faces close together, teeth bared, fists bunched, and seething with anger. Ana was afraid the situation was about to escalate when an Asian woman suddenly popped between them. Holder backed up a few feet and the woman held his gaze for several beats. She then turned to the other detective and gave him an equally stern look, but seemed to challenge him less than Holder. He shook his hands as if he were trying release the anger from them.
The Asian woman tilted her head towards the kitchen, and as if she had put a magical spell on both of them, they dispersed. Ana watched the woman collect herself; she closed her eyes, took a deep breath in through her nose and then slowly let it out through her mouth. When she opened her eyes again, she was staring at Ana.
Ana had a momentary thrill of excitement that she quickly squashed down.
Calm. Remain Calm.
The woman seemed to float across the floor as she walked toward Ana – barely treading on the CDs, paintings, papers, and rubble scattered on the carpet. She stood next to Ana for a few beats, looking back towards the kitchen – obviously checking on the two detectives.
“May I sit with you?” she asked, pointing at the empty space on the overturned sofa next to Ana.
Ana’s lack of response was taken as assent, and the woman sat quietly next to her. A smell wafted in her direction – the scent of a familiar spice and a hint of citrus, but Ana couldn’t place either. It was a pleasant smell that filled her nose and made her feel strangely relaxed.
Ana sat completely still, waiting for the barrage of questions that she knew would be coming from this new detective. The questions didn’t come. They just sat silently for several minutes, and she did her best not to look at the stranger sharing her seat.
Ana heard the woman take another deep breath in through the nose and then expel it through her mouth. She did this several times, and Ana didn’t realize it until the fourth or fifth time, but she was mimicking the woman’s breathing pattern. For a few moments more, they remained completely silent, just breathing in unison.
Without turning towards her, the woman broke the silence. “The first time I saw a dead person, I was seven years old,” she paused. “I had just gotten off the bus in front of my family’s town house, and was waiting until my grandparents arrived. A man came running out of the house next door – I didn’t recognize him – but he left the front door open. I waited for my next door neighbor to come to the front and say hello like she always did. When she didn’t come, I wandered over to her house and peeked my head inside.”
