Wednesday, November 9, 2013
I arrive at the DIC Agency´s corporate office at seven forty. There´s a great commotion around the dead body which, by the way, I haven´t seen yet as I stand on the spotless white marble floor at the office entrance.
Today´s protagonist is lying in one of the inner all-glass meeting rooms. The office is modern and regal.
The area has been cordoned off and a handful of forensic cops are laboring in full concentration. Even the smallest detail missed could affect the investigation and the tension in the room is palpable; they need to get done before the employees arrive. The body should be taken out ASAP, even if the work at the scene of the crime continues.
“Detective, fortunately the agency´s employees haven´t arrived yet. That could get messy.” Stuart greets me and tries to keep up with me while he nervously fumbles with his thick framed glasses. “Josh Parker,” he tells me, “his throat was slit last night. The janitor found him this morning around six thirty. Poor woman, they had to give her some counseling. Want a coffee Tischmann? You don´t look so good.”
“Thanks Stuart.”
I lose sight of Stuart as I approach the crime scene. Ducking under the police line, I quickly forget the accumulated exhaustion so as not to miss any clue or evidence that might help us with the investigation. My eyes are too used to scenes like this, so I am not affected in the least; seeing a young guy, elegantly attired with a fitted suit on a buff body -like my wife´s lover- drenched in blood from a deep and precise cut on his neck. The killer had a lot of guts, and he must´ve been experienced; a real pro. He broke the glass partition in the meeting room and with a sharp shard of glass cut the victim´s throat deftly. It doesn´t look like a first time job. You can still perceive the fear and bewilderment on the light colored eyes staring vacantly; he knew he was to die momentarily. His twisted mouth shows he suffered. He took a while to die, he probably had enough time to repent from all his sins.
“It appears to be a score-settling. Probably drugs.” Says Laura, one of the forensic team. She makes it a real treat to come to work; looking at her makes the ugliest crime scene bearable. She´s tall and thin, always wears a ribbon to hold her black mane, but when we´ve been out to the karaoke or to have a couple of beers at a bar, she has let it down and it´s just spectacular. Add to that a pair of stunning green eyes – which at the moment hurts too much to see as they remind me of Ana´s.-
“He doesn´t look like a junkie,” I retort taking my first look at the body. At first glance, this Josh guy seems to have led a healthy life, free of bad habits or vices.
“We´ll have to wait until we questions the other employees, we need to know who was the last person to see him alive. However, we found traces of cocaine in his nostrils.” States Laura very professionally.
“Bad business.”
“It´s too early to determine anything, we have to wait for the tox screen to see where that takes us. What Is crystal clear is that the murder was set on snuffing this guy’s life.” She concludes looking at me in the eye and shaking her head.
“And our job is to find who did this and why. Good job, Laura.”
I quickly don rubber gloves and grab a magnifying glass crouching to scrutinize the bloody tiles in more detail. «My God, what a massacre. » I muse. I hope the glass from the broken partition has some of the murderer´s blood on it, not likely if were dealing with a pro, which seems to be the case from the nature of the wound on our dead friend´s neck. The technician has taken some blood samples and there doesn´t seem to be a mix, the only DNA present is that of the victim.
While de CSIs continue to take pictures of the crime scene, y keep scrutinizing the floor, particularly in one corner which the janitor probably missed. There´s an ample collection of hair. I know it might not provide a clue to the case because many people come into this meeting room, but the key might be in one of them. I collect them carefully with a pair of tweezers and bag them as evidence. Maybe one of them will lead us to previous crimes that might point to the murder in this case. Envy, a settling of accounts, drugs, competition. Who knows. In an Agency of the caliber of DIC, anything can happen.
Suddenly, a woman´s screams fill every corner of the Agency. As I look up, I see a tall, scrawny woman, about six feet tall. She´s wearing a tight black dresse with badly matching white gym shoes. Her blond hair, messily held in check by a ribbon. In her blue eyes, you can see fear, confusion, over-work and near madness.
“Josh! Josh! Oh Josh!” She screams beside herself with pain, her eyes clouded with tears running towards the roped off area. An older man with a bushy white beard -if a kid saw him in the street, he would swear it was Santa Claus- holds her back and stops her before she can reach the body, which in a few minutes will be turned over to the forensic team, as soon as the judge in turn processes the order.
I stand and move towards her.
“Miss, I´m Paul Tischmann. I will be heading this case. I want you to know how sorry I am.”
“Sorry? Who the fuck needs sorry! Find the damn murderer who did this. Now!”
The older man takes what appears to be the victim´s wife to a nearby room. She´s still screaming but I can no longer make out the words.
Meantime, Stuart approaches with a smile and a steaming cup of coffee.
“Thanks for the coffee Stuart, but wipe that stupid grin off your face.” I tell him seriously.
“Yes sir, boss, sir. Laura has probably brought you up to speed. We´re dealing with a luxury druggie here, they found powder in his nose.”
“We´ll have to wait on the tox exams Stuart. How many times have I told you not to get ahead of yourself?” I ask exasperated, and take a sip of my coffee, “the cocaine could have been placed in his nostrils to put us off the trail. That´s all.” Stuart nods, not daring to contradict me. Can´t really say he´s got his balls in the right place. When I was assistant to the now retired John Peck – one strict bastard- I used to contradict everything he said when I thought I was right. Poor John was patient with me, deep down he was like a father to me, and all I know about this business is thanks to him. We´ve hardly kept in touch since he moved to Malibu. I want to imagine him in his office with an ocean view, writing police novels as he had always dreamed; taking care of his garden or drinking cold lemonade on the porch beside his wife Melinda, the most charming and kind person that I`ve ever met. Lucky guy, this Peck.
I observe the mourning woman in the other room at length. It makes sense, but there is something in her that bothers me. She keeps looking around but seeing absolutely nothing. She shakes her head violently in denial, silently, and it seems her fragile neck could snap any second. When she´s settled down a bit I´ll have to go in and talk to her. The older man beside her offers her a pill and she swallows it dry without hesitating.
I go over all the steps taken by the forensics team, not that I don´t trust them to do their job well, but I want to make sure we don´t miss anything. Not one thing.
Five minutes later, Josh Parker´s body it taken away in a gurney. All the pertinent tests have been run in the crime scene.
As the employees continue to arrive, their eyes wide, their hands to their mouths; the question of the day is: «what in the world happened here? » No one seems to know anything, but I have a feeling that one of them is the murderer. Or not. I have the bad habit of being wrong. I also thought Ana loved me and was faithful and it turns out she was screwing a guy behind my back. I have to stop thinking about Ana, I can´t let it get to me and cloud my judgement. This Josh guy may have been a son of a bitch, but no one, absolutely no one has the right to take another´s life.