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letsbejoyfools · 6 years ago

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3. I will. I promise

The charming neighborhood of Presidio Heights was enveloped in a numbing silence when Inspector Edwards came for the second time that day. There was no agitation this time though ; nobody running around like some headless chicken caught off guard by the big bad wolf. Only the bright yellow ‘crime scene’ tape gave away the real nature of the area’s hallowed quietness. It almost felt like mother nature had summoned the steady rain to wash away the remnants of death that were still hanging over the empty house. For a moment, Logan thanked whoever’s spirit reminded him to take his umbrella that morning, and walked towards the first house of Funston Street. At least he would still look presentable for the next few interrogations. Those never sparked off people’s exhilaration as it was…so showing up drenched from head to toe was definitively a no brainer.

Approaching the front porch of a certain Emilia Figgs, the detective repeated in his head all the questions he was adamant to ask. His little notepad was tucked in the inside left pocket of his jacket where he could feel its weight brushing against his chest. Certain he had everything in his possession, Logan pressed the doorbell without hesitancy. It only took a minute for a seemingly nice lady to open the door.

Her grizzled hair and the few wrinkles that were emerging around her blue eyes spoke for a certain maturity that only came with age, but her impeccable posture and the energy she exuded despite her frail body, indicated the recentness of her introduction to late adulthood. Smiling softly, she immediately let the officer into her house, sheltering him from the rain and inquired in a courteous voice worthy of a very old-school mannerism, "Well, good afternoon sir, what help can I offer you other than save you from this awful weather?"

Logan liked her on the spot. Right away he saw in her the people-pleaser altruist that never passed an opportunity to support others. He simply showed her his badge and introduced himself in what he hoped to be a reassuring voice. "Inspector Edwards ma’am. I apologize for intruding, but may I have some of your time for a few questions?"

To his relief, there was absolutely no sign of wariness on her features. It was like she couldn’t care less if he was a survey worker on duty, a boy scout trying to sell her cookies or a lost tourist asking for directions. He was about to burden her with murder-related prying questions - that he was positive were going to darken her mood - and yet there she was, offering him some freshly baked delicacies and showing him the way to a rather welcoming sofa.

"Please have a biscuit, a handsome man like you can certainly afford it!" Her sweetly (and hopefully not flirty) words brought a timid flush to Logan’s cheeks as she continued rambling. "You would actually do me a favor. I always cook too many shortbreads, but it’s not my fault the recipe only uses one egg and I can’t cut it in half… Thankfully Mrs Parker and Miss Thompson have too big of a sweet tooth to refuse my treats even when they claim following a new diet and all that nonsense!"

Despite being overwhelmed by Mrs Figgs’ overflow of words, Inspector Edwards couldn’t help himself but smile a little at her endearing zeal. "Oh…well if it elevates such a burden off your shoulders, then I guess I’ll have one," he replied half-jokingly. "Who are Mrs Parker and Miss Thompson?" he asked out of curiosity.

After joining her visitor on the couch, the sweet lady was now showing a full-blown smile as Logan brought one of the cookie to his mouth. It seemed having a fortuitous guest coming over out of the blue was the awaited highlight of her day. As if she usually spent her weeks waiting for some company to share her delicious goodies and innocuous stories with. Truthfully Inspector Edwards didn’t mind it at all. Because, often his job was to make people talk. Sometimes by forcing words out of their mouth, and sometimes well…let’s say they were just all too happy to finally have someone to talk to. And that made all the difference for him.

The moderately aged woman then launched into her explanation like a 14-year-old teenage girl recounting her last pyjama party with her two best friends. "Denise Parker lives two houses down the street. We go at the same bingo club, she’s a darling - one of my dearest friend I may say - but she travels a lot. Sofia Thompson is this young lady…hum…last house on the left, if I remember correctly. I don’t know lots about her but she’s also a real sweetheart. Always helps me when I come back from the market and then I usually ask her if she’s up for tea and some chitchat and she never fails me."

Looking at her brightening eyes, Logan had no doubt Emilia deeply cared for them. He was about to compliment her on her remarkable cooking but her voice was once more filling the room before he had a chance to. "Now, I appreciate your friendliness Inspector, you truly are a gentleman, but I know you are here for work, you said it yourself. And God forgive me if I were to distract you from it…"

After having his priorities gently put back in order, Inspector Edwards took a few seconds to figure out the softest way to broach his real motive, as to not completely tear her cheerful demeanor down. "You are absolutely right Mrs Figgs," he started after running his hand through his hair ; but she interrupted him before he can carry on.

"Oh no, call me Emilia please," she said in a timid smile.

"Hum, alright… What brings me here is certainly not as pleasant as your wonderful hospitality - and shortbreads," he quickly added in an attempt to alleviate the gravity of what was about to come. "Emilia, could you tell me where you were yesterday between noon and 5PM?" Inspector Edwards had always been convinced that the less the interviewee knew the more honest their answers, hence why he directly jumped into the subject.

"Oh hum…let’s see. I was at work until 3PM and then I came home and cooked the wonderful shortbreads you’ve been offered," she answered, seemingly pleasing the inspector.

"Alright, may I have your work address, please?"

"Certainly, I work as an assistant at Doctor Miller’s office," she immediately provided, as he wrote down the information on his notepad.

"Thank you Emilia," he took a short breath. "Do you happen to know Ian Astroff and Linda Morris, the young couple who lives across the road?" he smoothly inquired and watched her pondering over an answer.

"Well, I have seen these two lovebirds walking together a few times. I don’t know them very well, they are relatively private people. And by private I mean slightly reclusive. Did something happen to them?" she asked innocently after she realized that a detective wouldn’t be seating in her living room otherwise. She didn’t really need a verbalized answer though, the expression on his face spoke for itself.

"Sadly yes, Mrs F…Emilia, sorry. Mr Astroff and Miss Morris were found lifeless in their domicile this morning."

"Goodness gracious..." she pressed her hand to her chest before placing it on the sofa between her and the officer as she inclined her upper body towards him. "How…?" the lady asked speechless, shaking her head from side to side. Before answering her truthfully, Logan hesitantly put a his hand over hers in a comforting gesture.

"The gas of their cooker was left on, and they died from carbon monoxide poisoning," he squeezed her hand softly and cleared his throat before adding, "which I believe was not an accident."

He saw her eyes widening when the information hit her. "Oh dear God! That is just down right terrible, Inspector Edwards…Oh Heaven bless their hearts." She prayed looking at the ceiling as if a few tears were about to erupt from her eyes any minute then.

"Ma’am, I know this is very sudden and disheartening, but I need as much help as I can here…" Logan tried to graciously get her attention back on him, so that he could engage in the core of the upcoming interrogation.

"Yes, certainly so! How can I help?" she immediately reacted.

"Thank you Mrs Figgs, your cooperation is greatly appreciated. Is there anything you know, have heard of, or remember concerning these two persons?" Inspector Edwards asked hopeful before elaborating his request. "Have you seen anybody around their house recently, or do you know any of their friends maybe? At this point anything would be helpful." He gave her time to answer this time.

"Well as I told you before, they didn’t interact much with us. Not out of rudeness as far as I know, but you know…they were just reserved people," she finally explained.

"Us?" it didn’t escape Logan that she just spoke on the behalves of others.

"I know most of the people living in this street, Inspector, mostly because I have lived here myself for over thirty years…and, I may not be the closest with all my neighbors, but I am rather confident that very few of them actually know Ian or Linda…or knew" Logan nodded. Emilia’s rambling was full of valuable elements that had him thinking twice about his next question.

"So do you know if any conflict or disunity of any kind could have been the origin of such reservation? I know it’s a lot to expect from you, but do you reckon anything might have happened during the eight years of Ian’s residency here in Presidio Heights?" The new hypothesis of a neighbor’s vendetta was not out of the picture according to the inspector. Indeed, it would put some sense to the defunct couple’s behavior and narrow down the number of suspects.

"No, not that I know of, Inspector Edwards. Our little neck of the woods is very peaceful; I can’t even fathom any one of us having the essence of a murderer within them," she answered truthfully, not querying her neighbors’ integrity one bit.

"Alright, I believe you Emilia." Inspector Edwards couldn’t really clear any potential suspect solely based on a little lady’s faith and conviction, but making witnesses feel taken into account always turned out more beneficial than one would imagine. Thoughts and memories suddenly surfacing later were more likely to be reported back to him, and these were information that could be crucial for the investigation. Without wasting more time, Logan stood up from the couch and handed a little card to a bewildered Mrs Figgs.

"Alright Mrs Figgs, I don’t want to overstay my welcome. Here is my card if you remember or need anything. I hope I weren’t too much of a bother. Have a nice evening Emilia," he accompanied his goodbye by a quick motion of his head, expressing his gratitude.

"It was my pleasure to help you, Inspector…" Logan could tell she was about to add something, but the words were hesitant to fall pass her lips.

"Is there anything else Emilia?" he softly inquired.

"Please find the abhorrent being who did this. I might not have known Ian and Linda personally; but taking somebody’s life is pure cruelty, let alone taking two…it’s an act only a devil would be capable of," she said sternly. For a moment Edwards found it hard to breath as he was looking straight into her glassy blue eyes.

"I will. I promise," he answered quietly.

When Logan stepped out of Mrs Figgs house, an indescribable feeling suddenly seized his whole body. More specifically, an unfamiliar knot twisting his guts up to his throat. Logan realized Mrs figgs had just helped him uncover a forgotten perspective of his job. After leaving her bounteous hospitality and warmhearted words, the detective realized he had been treating his work with a certain aloofness he was not proud of.

It had easily become a thrilling chase for evidences, clues, and alibis; each discovery bringing a new sparkle to his eyes as he approached the finish line. Investigating had been reduced to a massive Cluedo game starting all over again, case after case. And while emotional detachment was fundamental in his profession, Inspector Edwards couldn’t help but chastise himself for forgetting it was actual human beings that had been ruthlessly killed. People with feelings, dreams, ambitions, family…

Logan didn’t dwell on it too long though; instead he just made the promise to solve this murder but not for the benefit of his career. With the knot no longer compressing his lungs, Inspector Edwards silently made his way towards the next house, mindset amended and tied by his new pledge.

#detective story #Crime Novel #creative writing #writing #investigation

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letsbejoyfools · 6 years ago

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2. You’re not the only one who always has his way.

Up until the seventh year of his life, Logan wanted to be a pilot. If the endless collection of toy planes scattered all over the floor of his bedroom (much to his mother's dismay) wasn't speaking for itself, then the multiple times the harmless boy found himself in the schoolmaster's office for throwing paper planes around the classroom, were pretty self-explanatory.

Logan was a sky lover, eyes shining as he secretly contemplated the stars at nighttime when he was supposed to be asleep, and smiling from ear to ear at the sound of every single plane flying across the sky. The blue immensity no longer held any secrets for him. The number of books he kept religiously in his room were proof of that. Passed down from his grandfather, they all held more than scientific answers for the little boy: he also felt connected to the only respectable man in his life.

More than a passion, it was his escape when he could hear his father's voice resonating in the house, followed by the cries of his mother after she'd retreated in her room. Tormented, he would then put his old grandpa's aviator goggles on, the exact pair he carried everywhere with him and tucked under his pillow before going to sleep. The world behind the thick lenses was softer. It was fearless, and preserved from the letdown of a father drowned in too much anger and alcohol to restrain himself from bullying his wife and terrorizing his son.

No physical pain had ever been inflicted, but the crudeness of the words had scarred Adele's heart a little bit deeper after every fight. Until one night, the threat of harming her son passed his lips, the smell of alcohol suffocating her nostrils and skimming over her cheeks from how close to her he was standing. The tears the man had never witnessed couldn't be held anymore. Only one word was throbbing in her head over and over again, matching the speed of her heartbeat. Enough. She knew what she had to do.

That same night, she went into Logan's room, unrecovered from her distress and the two left the chaos of the house where the dangerous man was still throwing dishes against walls in utter enmity. Carrying the only two bags she had managed to pack in the hurry, Adele went to her closest friend's house begging for a place to stay. It only took Everett Newton - an exemplary police officer - a few seconds to welcome the wrecked woman and her 7 years-old kid still tightly clutching his cherished goggles with shaky fingers.

What had originally been a temporary situation, then turned into the first chapter of a whole new story. The house became their home, empathy became genuine affection and the man that had saved and protected them, turned out to be more of a father than his genitor could ever be. Everett became a true model in Logan's eyes. And every time the young boy would see the newborn smile asserting itself on his mother's face, the voice in his mind that had been once whispering to fly, was then shouting to him to follow the same path of his step father. That's when Logan had known, he would become an detective.

***

Now, still standing in the kitchen of his new 'clients', Inspector Edwards knew the key to his dream, was finally in his hands. There was no time to waste enjoying the high he got from his new assigned case - his first own investigation - he had to put his mind in its upmost prolific mode. Mechanically he pulled a tiny notebook out of the inside pocket of his jacket and started working. He first went back to the bedroom as he deemed necessary to observe it once again from the perspective of a murder.

For the second time today, he penetrated the dark room and approached its occupant. Evidently nothing had changed, but this time around Logan allowed himself to open the drawer of the nightstand only to find a few books and some ear plugs. He then looked under the bed after pulling his flashlight out of his pocket, but almost expectingly, he found himself looking at a perfectly swept floor. Back up on his feet, his eyes fell upon the few works of art adorning the white walls. Much like the rest of the house, the couple had opted for a refined and sober decoration style that matched the general uprightness of the place. The variety of paintings showed an undeniable sophisticated artistic taste, the colors remaining soft but strong enough to illuminate the room. Only one frame differed slightly from the others, enclosing a black and white picture of Los Angeles' downtown sunset.

Unimpressed, Inspector Edwards headed slowly towards the small bathroom attached to the master bedroom. Despite its small size, the room was smartly arranged, providing just enough space to fit an impressive Italian shower and a classy counter made of massive white oak holding two unique opaque glass vessel sinks. Once more, Logan found himself frustrated at the lack of personal display. 'They don't give me much to work with' he thought as he registered the two lonely toothbrushes standing in a cup between the bowls and the bottles of shower product neatly aligned on a single shelf inside the shower cubicle. He sighed after opening the drawers of the washstand only to find everything in its legitimate place. The inspector took a moment to scan his reflection in the large mirror hanging above the sinks. Sighing once again, he ran his hands through his hair out of annoyance, a resistant habit of his.

When Inspector Edwards stepped out of the bathroom, he was not alone anymore. Two fairly robust guys were putting their muscly structure to work, carefully removing the defunct body from the bed. They placed her delicately on a stretcher, under Logan's observant eyes. As the two workers were turning the carrying bed towards the living room, his retinas caught on a tiny but crucial detail resting around its owner's finger.

He would have missed the magnificent ring - previously dissimulated by the heavy comforter she was hiding under - if it weren't for the reflection of the light that was coming in from the main room, illuminating the splendid diamond. In a heartbeat Logan sprung to action and came close to the lifeless woman to examine the expensive jewelry she was wearing. A second later, his head flew up and the words hurried out of his mouth, his body already turned towards the kitchen.

"Have you removed the other body yet?"

"Fred and Gary should be working on it, why?" one of the guys inquired.

"I need to see the man's body immediately."

He didn't take in his interlocutors' reactions though. He was already halfway to the kitchen where two similar men were mirroring their colleagues' actions. He raised his voice in a polite but assertive tone, catching their attention.

"Oi! Stop here for a second please." He then stepped next to Ian's corpse and directly grabbed his left hand in order to have a look at his ringless finger. The two transporters were still exchanging a perplexed look when Inspector Edwards addressed them one more time. "I don't know where your superior told you to deliver this two corpses, you have now new directions from the police department to take them to the medical examiner. No questions please," he firmly commanded. "Thank you gentlemen," Logan added from afar. He had already reached his car before the four guys could question his orders. Swiftly pulling out of the curb, he headed quickly towards the police station, much too impatient to pursue his investigation on the murder of Ian Astroff and his fiancée.

Although the inspector felt slightly different with the prospect of his new case, the police station was still the same when he arrived. Most officers were hunched over the screen of their computer, while a few others were stressfully barrel-racing between the printer, the coffee machine and their mess of a desk. Inspector Edwards didn't have time to enjoy the rodeo performance currently taking place in front of him though, he sprinted straight to his small office, calling his best assistant on the way.

By the time Peter Sutton joined him in the room ready to receive his orders, Logan had already pulled up the police report Lieutenant Taylor had sent him on his computer, and started writing down on a side paper his overflowing ideas. Peter knew better than interrupting his friend when he saw the detective was caught in one of his frequent trances. Instead he stood patiently and waited for Logan's hand to slow down on the almost filled piece of paper, sign that it was safe for him to speak up without overwhelming his superior. Edwards wasn't one to snap or yell, but his mood could flip in a second when the hurricane of his thoughts was suddenly interrupted and one of them slipped out of his mind before he could get a grab on it.

"What's up Logan? I heard you're on a new case," Peter said once his boss finally leaned back in his chair.

"You're right Pete, and I want you as my main assistant," he answered.

"You know I'm your guy, what can I do for you?" Pete asked.

"Come sit, I'll fill you in first and then I'll tell you what I need you to do," Logan declared and then made a quick motion towards the seat in front of his desk, as an encouragement for his friend to sit.

"Alright, so we got this call this morning for a gas leak. Two persons died. The guy was found on the kitchen floor and his fiancée was laying in their bed," he stated matter-of-factly before sitting forward, elbows now leaning on the desk and his back no longer resting against the chair. "I'll tell you what I've learned so far. The house is ridiculously clean, I don't know if it was his or her doing though. Decorated with taste but nothing exuberant. Dude was working at a garage in Richmond district. I think he had just come from work, he still had grease on his shirt. She was sick from Sunday's storm, probably passed out for the past two days. Both asphyxiated," he paused before diving into Peter's blue irises and adding, "Clearly on purpose." Then he leaned back once again, and gave his assistant some time for the information to sink in.

"You mean, somebody turned the gas on to kill them and made it look like it was an accident?" Logan was almost smiling at his friend's perspicacity. Pete always understood him quicker than most.

"Precisely" he just confirmed.

"Alright, so what's our first step?" Peter asked with a renewed enthusiasm.

Edwards chuckled, pleased at the officer's matching eagerness. "I want a report on the victims, Ian Astroff and Linda Morris, although you can focus on him first. Search for anything. I wanna know where they worked, who they hung out with, what's their history together." He looked briefly at his notes. "Their bank account, their family...oh and who had access to the house," he finished listing and then took a look at his watch. He read 1:27PM.

"Okay consider it done then," Pete smiled and started walking out of Logan's office.

"I also wanna go back to interview the neighbors later today. Find out as much as you can, I'll come by your desk in an hour or so," the Inspector added quickly before being out of range.

The next 60 minutes want as fast as a snap of the fingers. Peter was so engrossed in his research he barely noticed that the clouds previously sitting heavily above the city, were now releasing an impressive torrent of water on the streets of San Fransisco. Nevertheless, he didn't let any worry of having forgotten his umbrella at home or the fact that the nearest tube station was situated three blocks away, linger too long in his mind. Instead, he kept typing furiously every little information concerning the couple he could possibly find, ready to hit the button 'print' as soon as Logan's tall frame entered his peripheral vision.

True to his word, Edwards joined his assistant a little over an hour after their last exchange, and seemed pleased with the amount of data Sutton was able to come up with. Tilting his head on the side, the inspector encouraged his partner to voice the report he had just assembled. "Okay, well I didn't really find anything out of the ordinary...no criminal record, I know that's what you had in mind," he said looking up from his computer. "Ian Astroff used to live in LA though, moved out eight years ago and bought a garage company in Richmond District. He stayed in the same house the whole time, though he added Linda Morris on the Deed about two years ago. I don't have anymore information about their relationship yet, since they were not married...but you know me, I always have my way, so just give me more time."

Logan simply nodded, pinching his lips together with his fingers - another unconscious tic of his. "Okay, what about the garage company? Was it doing well?"

Peter answered right away, "Apparently so, I mean the guy sure picked a good spot for his business."

"Yeah, fair enough," Edwards complied. "And his fiancée?" he finally inquired.

"She worked at the local school for the last nine years or so. Same thing, no police record."

Logan sighed deeply, looking at his watch one more time. "Alright, good job. Keep looking though, I'm gonna go see if the neighbors have something more to say. You're not the only one that always has his way," he declared before making his way back to his office. He heard a vague 'cheers mate' when he was at the door but didn't pay it further notice. In a few seconds he had gathered his jacket, his police badge and his car keys, before exiting the police station still not ready to put his work to rest for the day.

#detective story #writing #Crime Novel #creative writing #investigation #san francisco

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letsbejoyfools · 6 years ago

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1. You’re on Edwards!

San Fransisco, California,

Inspector Logan Edwards could’t remember the last time so many cars were parked in front of one of his client’s house - although the term "client" is a concept Logan liked to keep to himself. Certainly the "newbie" (the nickname had stuck even after two years of service) was already teased enough by his fellow police investigators, that he could pass on them mocking him for his odd terminology. But if there was one thing the 27 years-old inspector had quickly learnt throughout his first few years in the criminal investigations department, it was that his job could be ugly. Therefore after a few sleepless nights filled with vivid nightmares of agonizing and dead bodies, Logan quickly developed some sort of protective shield.

Taking a few steps back from the morbidity of the situation, he then considered himself a lawyer defending an indictment for a client. Except in his case, said indictment was the perpetration of murder and said client no longer belonged to this world. A strange thought process people might think…but it was in those terms that Inspector Edwards was examining the corpse lying on the floor of the kitchen he was currently standing in.

The first thing Logan noticed was the throng of people crowding the room ; something he immediately found suspicious since it was supposedly just a standard accident procedure. That’s what he was told 40 minutes earlier when Lieutenant Clark Taylor required his immediate presence at the victim’s domicile. ‘Gas incident on Funston St. One victim. Get your arse over here.’ Taylor had sent him the text in his infamous ever so polite tone. Now, after running relentlessly around the lovely neighborhood of Presidio Heights where he was due to arrive ‘asap’ - as his boss so gently requested - a stream of discontent was slowly but surely invading Inspector Edwards’ bloodstream like a toxic intravenous injection.

Because one thing about Logan was that he absolutely despised being confused, especially in a job-related environment. And in that moment, Logan was in a state of upmost disconcertment. The men around him were agitated and seemed to be torn in two opposite directions. ‘Since when does the police need that many men to assess the aftermath of an unfortunate gas incident that caused the death of a hapless guy?’ thought Logan. ‘So what, a guy came home, forgot to turn his gas off and the next thing you know the FBI barges in?’

The craving for explanation extricated Logan from his flooding nonsensical thoughts. In a few seconds he spotted Lieutenant Taylor and had barely the time to open his month when Clark started filling him in on the situation. "I know it’s a freakin’ mess. I called you in as soon as we got here and it took these fuckers 10 minutes to realize the dude’s wife was also dead in their bedroom. Hence why we’re fuckin’ crammed on top of each other."

The house was nothing big, really ; but its astute architectural arrangement gave it a modernistic outline not devoid of practicality. The front door, situated on the far right-hand side of the house, directly led onto a relatively open area. A few steps to the left, was all it took to reach the center of the house embodied by the dining room - if you could call it a dining room that is. Mainly, it was just an elegant solid wood table placed on a refined rug, standing between the cooking area on the left and on the right a wall that enclosed (from furthest to closest) a guest room, a bathroom and the master bedroom Lieutenant Clark was referring to. The kitchen counters were assembled in a U-shape facing the dining table and were surrounding a small center island which provided an ergonomic and satisfactory large working zone. A little further down the ‘dining room’ and behind the kitchen, was a quite spacious living room adorned by two average size cloud-looking sofas facing a large TV.

Inspector Edwards only nodded as the two men headed towards the bedroom in question, and waited for the main report. "We should be outta here fast though, the case is pretty simple." He took a short pause and explained some more. "Linda Morris, that’s her name. She was found dead in her bed. Same thing, asphyxiation."

The room was submerged in profound darkness thanks to the thick black curtains camouflaging the window. The repulsive scent lingering in the air was immediately captured by Logan’s nostrils, testing the sensitivity of his gag reflex. It was certainly not the first time the inspector had to breath the same air a dead could no longer inhale. As discomforting as it may sound, Logan knew how death smelt. Unceremoniously tossed in a bin of a dark alley ; laying in the serenity of a luxurious hotel room or lost in the vastness of a corn field, Inspector Edwards had seen, smelt, and even felt death in all its forms.

However in that moment the stench startled him by its unfamiliarity. The odor dangerously tickling his nose was a sordid mix between sickness and oddly…vanilla candles. Logan took a minute to inspect the room, an exhaustive list of little mental notes forming itself from the most relevant observation to the most insignificant detail.

Because everything had to make sense.

The bedroom wasn’t messy per se, but displayed enough personal effects for Inspector Edwards to draw a consistent profile of his new ‘client’. This was yet another thing about Logan : he didn’t need much to get the bigger picture. It was a routine, almost part of his inner clock. ‘Observe, retain, deduce.’ A habit so deeply engraved in his procedural memory, it came as spontaneously as sneezing. So the pair of pants and socks meticulously laid on the radiator and the tablet of ibuprofen left on the nightstand had been added on the list just a moment after he first crossed the threshold of the door.

"The poor girl must have knocked herself out to sleep," Taylor’s head motioned toward the medication, "coulda maybe escaped the gas if it weren't for the pills…" he finished earnestly. Logan only hummed in acknowledgment, as he approached the bed to take a closer look at the victim and her surroundings. She looked almost peaceful, wrapped up under the thickest comforter he had ever laid his emerald eyes on. She was on her side in a fetal position, facing the nightstand where stood an empty mug and the half-used pills. He bent over the mug in order to smell the remainders of its content, but it was only for confirmation. His verdict was already made.

"She didn’t knock herself out, she was sick." He simply stated.

"Sick? Why do you reckon so Edwards?" Asked his boss in a curious tone.

"Remember two days ago, it rained all day and the wind was so hard it knocked some trees over. She must have gotten a cold because her clothes were drenched. That’s why she put them on the radiator instead of the dirty laundry basket," he pointed at the pants. "Plus she lit a vanilla candle, and made herself a cup of hot chocolate. S’what my mum used to do when I was feeling poorly… candles and cocoa," Logan explained simply to the Lieutenant.

"Impressive Edwards," he said relatively emotionless. "Might have to put you on the next serious case huh?" chuckling to himself, his eyes left his agent’s tall frame and he exited the room without muttering another word. The right corner of Logan’s lips curved ever so lightly before he found his way back to a slightly less packed kitchen, much to his delight. Indeed, the two gas experts hired to examine the gas cooker - presumed origin of the leak - were now gone, leaving only Lieutenant Taylor, the Chief of the Fire Department of San Fransisco and two other detectives hunched over the second lifeless presence the house was hosting.

Instinctively, Logan went over every detail of the kitchenette, scrutinizing the slightest corner in hope to spot any revealing peculiarity. Much like the rest of the house, the cooking area was undeniably clean. No dirty dishes were lazily lingering in the sink and the immaculate marble-like counter was free of any unwanted scattered crumbs. ‘It was a pretty neat family’ was the conclusion Logan drew. The only apparent appliances were an old-fashioned teapot settled on the side of the stove, and a plate holding a half-eaten takeaway pizza, judging by the cardboard box carefully placed on top of the bin.

One quarter of the missing half laid on the floor a few feet away from the man’s body - buttered-side pathetically facing the fancy ceramic tile. Inspector Edwards didn’t need a degree in rocket science to figure out the location of the last quarter of the culinary puzzle. A quick autopsy would surely confirm the dismal fate of the remaining slice. Logan allowed himself a disconcerted sigh before turning around and partaking in the soon-to-be-over conversation his boss and the high-ranking fireman were having.

Surprisingly so, Lieutenant Taylor quickly brought Logan into the discussion by summarizing the exchange his agent had just missed. "Edwards, Chief Hayes here and his men confirmed our suspicions ; the gas was simply left on after usage until the tank emptied itself". He then faced towards the victim and further explained. "Ian Astroff, 37, owner of a garage all the way back in Richmond District. He was found by the housekeeper. She comes over once a week usually on Tuesday mornings. She called as soon as she found him, completely freaked out. Anyway, the coroner’s diagnosis corroborates the leak theory. Said their time of death coincides and their body’s condition shows every symptoms of asphyxiation. He also said no autopsy required. The poor guy is probably the one responsible for this drama if you are right about her being sick and all that…"

Logan nodded unconsciously still processing his boss’ verdict with a thoughtful expression plastered on his face, when Chief Hayes announced his departure. "Alright gentlemen, it was a pleasure to meet you despite the nature of this regrettable situation ; although I’m still relieved there is not danger for the neighborhood." He added a genuine "have a nice day" before exiting the house.

Furrowed brows, Inspector Edwards silently conveyed his perplexity over the Chief’s last words before asking. "Danger for the neighborhood?" Clark answered abstractedly. "The main reason the fire department came here was to make sure there was so dysfunction with the gas system. All the houses ‘round here were constructed by the same company at the same time. If they were in anyway related to this accident, it could be a freakin’ disaster."

The lines on Logan’s forehead smoothed with understanding, but the wheels in his brain were still turning judging by the intensity of his emerald eyes staring at the body still spread on the floor. When he finally cleared his throat to speak, his eyes didn’t shift an inch from their inanimate target. "We don’t have to worry about it though, it’s clearly not a dysfunction," he stated in an austere tone. Logan must have felt the odd stare the Lieutenant Taylor was directing at him, because he then looked up at his interlocutor. "It wasn’t an accident either. I think Ian Astroff and Linda Morris were murdered."

Dumbfounded, Clark glared at him more persistently - if that was even possible. His eyes creased and his jaw fell slack in a ‘what-the-fuck-are-you-talking-about’ way. Curiosity got the better of him and he confoundedly inquired with arms whirling above his head. "What in hell makes you think that?!"

If Inspector Edwards was impressed by his boss’ sudden change in demeanor, he sure did a great job at not letting it reflect exteriorly. Instead, he remained collected and simply said to his awaiting superior, "There was no reason for the gas to be on."

There was a heavy pregnant pause before Lieutenant Taylor - who had already recovered form his outburst - decided to put an end to it. "That’s all you have?" he said it more like a statement. "How can you even be sure of what you’re putting forward?"

His skepticism didn’t take Logan’s confidence down though. With more zest the inspector started sharing his reasoning with a frustrated Clark, each word a step forward in convincing him. "Just think about it for a second. The guy was eating takeaway pizza ; even if he had to heat it up he would have used the microwave. And as we established earlier, Ms. Morris was sick for the past two days."

"Alright, but you forgot the teapot" his boss tried to reason with him, but it seemed Logan had an answer for everything.

"Have you seen any mug around here?" He rhetorically asked, turning his upper body as if looking for the mug in question.

"Again you forgot there is one sitting on her nightstand" countered Clark.

"Again, it was filled with cocoa. She didn’t need boiling water for that. Besides, I lifted the teapot ; it’s empty."

Another silence settled between the two men whose thoughts were currently racing from all sides. Logan was trying to judge his boss’ reaction, while Lieutenant Taylor was processing the new theory. This time Inspector Edwards spoke first, voicing one last attempt to persuade his colleague. "Listen, something just doesn’t sit right. These persons were attentive, I mean look around the house, nothing’s out of place, it’s borderline OCD. Besides, you said Astroff worked at a garage right? He would know better than fiddling with the gas in his own house don’t you think?"

For a few flashing seconds, the crease in Lieutenant Taylor’s eyes reappeared. Then he released a long sigh, his expression unreadable, keeping Logan on his toes, heart speeding up. "You’re a wanker, you know tha’?" he said dejectedly although the hint of a smirk was definitively threatening the serious expression he was trying to keep. "I guess your serious case might have come sooner than expected huh." Logan’s eyes were already starting to shine brighter. "You’re on Edwards!" the Lieutenant exclaimed before tapping his man’s shoulder and making his way out. Logan was beaming.

#crime novel #writing #whatdyathink?#san francisco #detective story #suspense #murder

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