((Did everyone get what they wanted for Christmas? Below is a short story that I wrote for a creative writing class in college. Don’t remember what the prompt was, to be honest. I think it was something about concealment or keeping secrets? Anywho, enjoy!))
The room was in shambles. Clothing was strewn about the room haphazardly. Boxes of half-eaten Chinese food lay on the ground. The food was on the floor because six bottles of vodka had stolen their spots on the table. Each bottle was nearly empty except for one. There were a few couches on the sides of the room. Wooden chairs surrounded the table, six in all. As the cop entered the room, a sharp smell reached his nose. Ammonia, he thought while looking for evidence. All he noticed was the lack of furnishings besides the couches and chairs. He walked over to the table. Something in the circle of bottles caught his eye. “Bingo,” he said, putting on a pair of latex gloves.
The officer picked up an unused cartridge. It looked like a .357 round – the most common round used in revolvers – but he wasn’t sure. Placing it back on the table for the investigation crew, he did another quick examination of the room. Whoever they were, they were thorough. He took off his gloves and headed back for his police car.
“So, here’s what we have so far,” Lieutenant Smith said at the meeting the next day. “At 10:30 PM, we get a noise complaint from the lady in the next apartment over. She says that it sounded like a bunch of drunken idiots. We put it on the queue, and continue the evening. 10:45, the situation escalates as the lady calls back saying that she heard a gunshot. Officer Lourie was the first to arrive on the scene, and he found little hard evidence. A team is going back to the apartment to find all the evidence that they can. When I call your name, head to the door…”
Officer Samuel Lourie took a seat in the van next to the other three officers heading up the crime scene. Until further notice, he was in charge of the investigation. Fortunately his partner, Gregory Thomas, was on the crew. Greg was one of the most observant officers on the force, and he would find details that other people might miss. The other two officers were young but good at following procedure. He wouldn’t need to keep an eye on them. Lourie thumped on the wall, and the van lurched to life.
It had only been one day, but the room was starting to smell. The fresh aroma of ammonia mixed with the soothing smell of spoiled Chinese food, topped with a hint of vodka, was a little overbearing. The first thing that Lourie did as a commanding officer was open the window. That done, he delegated the rookies to scanning the walls and floor for any blood spots or other evidence. Officer Thomas was sent next door to ask the lady a few questions. This isn’t too bad, he told himself as he walked towards the table. Nothing had changed in 12 hours.
“Sir!” Officer Thomas said, “Mrs. Andrews has no recollection of anyone ever living in that apartment before. She said it was probably a bunch of high school students fooling around. As for the gunshot, she said that she only heard one.”
“Thanks, Greg. Help the others scour this place.” Officer Thomas walked over to the pile of clothing, putting on a pair of gloves. He began to pick through the articles. Lourie walked over to the window and called the department. He relayed all of his information, and then waited as the lieutenant picked up the line.
“Lourie, additional information came in today. Apparently, other precincts have had similar incidents occurring in their areas. Detective Jones is going to be heading up the rest of this investigation. Sorry, it’s procedure.”
“I know, sir. Out.” Lourie hung up the phone and cursed. Jones was one of the best detectives that the precinct had, but he was just a bit too eccentric for Sam’s taste. Sam wasn’t too angry that Jones was coming; it was just that this was his case, and now it was being turned over to someone else.
About five minutes later, Detective Jones came in the door, a cigarette in his mouth. His nose wrinkled. “Lourie!” Sam went over, and stood beside Jones. “I want you to relieve Thomas of searching the clothing. Thomas, help the rooks find some hard evidence.” The detective plugged his nose. “And will someone please take care of this Chinese food?” One of the rookies leapt to his feet to discard the rotting food.
Thomas examined a spot on the floor, and shook his head. “None of this is any good. They sprayed ammonia on the bloodspots.” He looked at the wall. “This one too.”
Meanwhile, Sam picked through the clothing. Reaching into a hooded sweatshirt pocket, he pulled out a scrap of paper. It read, ‘Jeff Vencus, James Marquee, Vincent Powers’. A list of victims? Culprits? Lourie stood up and handed the paper to Jones. Jones examined the scrap, then handed it back. “Have dispatch find these people for me.” Lourie slowly pulled out his phone. Continue reading