Serial Killer Strikes Again

[Babette_____]

Angelica toys with the spoon in her tea and sighs. She isn’t in the mood to eat. Her thoughts focused on the phone call this morning from her boyfriend, ex-boyfriend Brian and Deb the ho Synder. She could still hear the woman’s voice through the phone. She grabbed the napkin in her hand and wadded it up tossed it into her half eaten bowl of salad. The ham sandwich wasn’t even touched.

She leaned back in her chair and sighed. Her hand pushed her hair away from her face and she looked around. Her eyes rested for a moment on a gentleman at the table next to her. She saw his smile and she gave a small one back. She went back to her tea and the spoon she was toying with. Eventually she was bored with the café and her boring lunch.

She stood up and slipped out of her chair. Unbeknownst to her a paper slipped out of the small stack of files she’d brought with her. The logo at the top showed the museum address as well as listed a list of South African artifacts that were due to be shipped out of the museum at the end of the week.

As she walked back to the museum Angelica was lost in thoughts of revenge. When she entered the museum, her eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses she’d slipped on after leaving the café, she was shooting daggers at men right and left, judging them all as spawns of Satan.

Once she was in her office she tried to calm herself. She got online and started reading the past articles about “Daddy’s Little Girl” and how much she’d gone from third page news to front cover story.

 

[redbaron05]

Jerry Smith

As Jerry is eatting his sandwich he notices the pretty lady at the table next to him get up and leave. He catches himself admiring her beauty as she leaves thinking to himself wow shes pretty. After she leaves the cafe Jerry notices she has dropped some papers from the stack she was carrying.

Picking it up and looking it over he sees that it's a list of some kind with the logo and address of the museum on the top. Sticking it in his coat pocket Jerry decides to return it to the museum at the very least he may get to see the pretty lady who just left again seeing her would be worth making the detour heck he might even be able to learn something about the weapons he went to research.

Finishing the last of his lunch Jerry leaves the cafe and drives over to the museum.

Entering the museum Jerry walks up to the information desk. The clerk at the desk smiles and asks, "May I help you sir?" Jerry smiles as he asks, "May I speak to someone in charge?"

Smiling the clerk says, "One moment sir I'll call the curator." Picking up her phone the clerk dials a number and waits a min then speaks into the phone, "Ma'am there is a gentleman here at the front desk wishes to speak to someone in charge"

Hanging up she says, Sir the curator will be with you in a moment would have a seat over there?", she indicates a chair. Smiling Jerry replies "Ok I'll wait" as he takes a seat and waits for the curator to arrive.

 

[Alerdene]

Her phone rang as she studied one of the pictures, trying to make out what she was seeing on the victim's body. A brand she thought, but she couldn't quite read it. Setting the picture down, she snapped open the phone without looking at the screen.

This is Ivy.

Her mouth curved into a smile and she instinctively sat up a bit straighter when she heard the voice on the other end. His tone when he identified himself sounded pleased that she'd answered and she tried to wipe the dopey grin off her face as she spoke.

I'm glad you got my message. Your front desk is rather... hesitant to put me through it seems. No worries though, I suppose that's the hazards of my job.

Glancing at the clock as he spoke, she was pleased to hear his invitation to dinner was still open. He mentioned a nice Italian place and she agreed quickly, making a face when he reminded her he'd be asking her a few official questions. He didn't linger on that subject however and when she closed the phone slowly a moment later, a thoughtful look was in her eyes.

Looking at the clock once more and realizing she had plenty of time to get ready before their appointed 'date', she opened the phone once more, hitting a speed dial number. Flipping through the pictures again, she held the one with the brand up in front of her, squinting at it. She dropped it as the line was answered,

Yeah, it's Ivy, can you talk?

Calm down, I know you're at work, but I called your number, not the front desk. I'm not stupid. A name. That's all I need. Please?

Fine, double the usual price. The name?

Marty Glenville... why does that sound familiar... oh shit, nevermind. I'll leave the money where I always do.

She snapped the phone up and immediately got up, scooping up the pictures and tossing them onto the coffee table. Walking to her computer, she pulled up an article she'd done not long ago about the local football star. A frown crossed her face as she recalled interviewing him. He'd been a personable guy... a little cocky, but hey... he was a football player.

She wondered if they'd contacted his next of kin yet. She'd have to ask Michael. Surely he wouldn't begrudge her that tiny little piece of information. She'd like to revise her story for the morning's paper, but she wasn't so un-sensitive that she'd print it before they talked to his relatives.

Dropping the phone, she walked into the bedroom, stripping and actually putting her clothes in the hamper for once. Padding barefoot into the bathroom, she started the shower and waited a moment until steam began rising before she climbed in. Pushing away the thought that she'd actually known and spoken to the last victim, she concentrated on a decent excuse for Michael about that morning... hoping to get the business out of the way so they could have a nice dinner.

 

[Wyld52771]

Detective Michael Hallenbeck

Michael walked out of the Glenville's house, feeling as if he were only two inches tall. He could still hear Martin Glenville's mother crying, her harsh racking sobs of grief, cutting through him like a knife, after telling her and her husband that their son, that the life of the child they'd watch grow into a young man full of promise, had been cut short by a murderer.

Glenville's father had stopped him before leaving, his eyes filling up with tears of grief, but smoldering with anger as well. "You catch this monster, Detective," he'd said, his voice cracking with pained emotions, "catch him and make him pay for what he did to my boy." Michael had tried to console them the best he could, but anything he said had been far inadequate, and he'd finally left them to their grief.

He understood how they felt, abruptly losing a loved one...he'd reacted much the same four years ago when he'd found out Amanda had been killed in the car accident. His friends had tried to soothe and comfort him, and all it had done was make him angry. Angry that it had happened, and the injustice of it all that something like that could happen to such a special and caring person as his wife had been.

Delivering the bad news to the victim's families had put things in perspective, though. It had made him realize something...no matter who you are, SOMEONE out there always thought you were special. All the victims had left someone behind. Not only did this killer steal someone's life, taking away everything that person ever was and ever would be...but the killer also stole that person from everyone left behind who cared for him or her. The sheer WRONGNESS of that seemed almost disgustingly offensive, and that more than anything else made Michael want to catch and put this killer away.

Getting in his car, still shaken by the experience, he unthinkingly dialed Ivy's number, partly because he wanted to finalize the details of dinner this evening...but mainly because right now, he needed to talk to someone...and he realized, that people who actually cared about HIM were in short supply. Instinctively, after the trauma inside, he just needed to feel a connection to SOMEONE...and he'd already felt that strongly with her. The phone rang, and he waited for Ivy to pick up...

 

[Alerdene]

Out of the shower and buried in a huge fuzzy blue robe that could be considered anything but sexy she grabbed a Coke from the fridge and took her pictures to the table, spreading them out. A notebook in hand, she jotted little notes, finally grabbing the one autopsy report she had to compare. Making notes again, she sighed and finally pushed them away.

It bothered her that the pictures didn't bother her. Shouldn't all that blood and carnage make her squeamish? Send her running for a bush to puke in? Make her weak in the knees? Something!? Her mind drifted to her mother. Was that why? Finding her mother like she did? Did it break something inside of her? Or was she just that cold-hearted and had no feelings? Nearly growling at herself, she knew that wasn't true. She had feelings. She just kept them locked away where no one could get at them. It was easier that way. She'd grown up virtually alone, with just a nanny for company... her father jetting in now and again bringing presents, but no attention. It was easier to put up a wall rather then be hurt every time he left her.

Jesus Ivy, what is this, feel sorry for yourself day. Get a grip.

Standing, she walked to the fridge and grabbed an orange. Sitting back at the table, she sipped her coke and began to peel it. Her thoughts drifted to dinner and an unbidden hint of a smile crossed her lips. She was terribly attracted to him, but was this breaking of the unspoken rule? Cops and reporters... didn't usually mix. It just wasn't wise. A friend of hers had dated a female cop once... it didn't last long. They just couldn't keep work out of the conversation. And when he did a stupid thing and printed something once.... that was it. End of story. Over. Finished. No explanations allowed. Well... she wouldn't be that dumb... she hoped.

Glancing up as her phone rang, she wandered over to it and glanced at the screen. It was Michael. Wrinkling her nose, she almost didn't answer, figuring he was calling to cancel. Sighing, she flipped it open and her normal brisk reply came out, though her voice was a bit softer then normal.

This is Ivy.

 

[RedHairedandFriendly]

Samantha had been on cloud nine when Marc kissed her cheek and took her to the table. The cloud shifted somewhat when a woman and a man suddenly appeared out of nowhere, and attempted to make themselves more comfortable at their table. Some how though all of that the entire conversation disappeared for Samantha as Marc addressed his ex and took Sam’s hand and held it. Now she was enveloped in his touch. She found herself wanting more.

“Really, really special huh?” she smiled at him. “Not just special, or really special... but I’m really, really special?” She smirked and tilted her head to one side and added with a wink, “Couldn’t I be really, really, really special?” She added extra emphasis on the last really and bit her lower lip to stifle the giggle that threatened to escape her.

It shouldn’t have surprised her, but it did when he reached down and grasped her chin with his fingers. Her eyes widened, but only a quiet whimper escaped her lips, before Marc was tasting the smile and drinking in the laughter that had trickled from her lips.

She leaned in and felt the pressure, returned it, and found herself wanting more. They separated and for a moment they both just stood their looking at each other. A cough came to them, the maitre d’ stood behind Marc and Sam blushed.

She took her seat and Marc followed suit, neither one released the other one’s hand. Her eyes moved to his and she found herself becoming more pink. She eventually did let his hand go and picked up her menu. Marc ordered an appetizer and with the hand he’d been holding he allowed it to rest on her thigh, the other he used to hold the opposite end of the menu for her, and together they discussed what to order.

Soon the orders were made and the meal was progressing, their hands alternated between holding fingers to touching skin. Their legs would press against each other, or their arms would, one way or another, each one found a reason to caress the other with a word, look, or touch. Until by the time the check came, neither really wanted to go home, but instead find other excuses to stay out.

 

[Babette_____]

Angelica closes out the screen on the computer and is about to head out to take a once over on the Amazon Rain Forest exhibit when she hears knock on her office door. She looks up and sees one of the college kid gophers pop their head in. “There’s some dude at the front desk wants to see someone important.”

She rubs her temples and wonders when she suddenly became important. Standing from her desk she straightens her sweater, smooths down her skirt and slips her heels back on her feet. Grabbing her glasses - the lenses nothing but glass - she places them on her pert nose and walks out of her office.

She scans the newcomers and those departing from the museum and her eyes shift to the front desk and the clerk. A man stands to one side and she immediately knows he’s the one who needs someone ‘important’. A heavy sigh escapes her and she walks over, plastering her, “I live to serve you” smile on her face she extends her hand once the distance is closed. “Hello Angelica Winters, I’m one of the curators here. I understand you need to speak with me.”

There is something familiar about the man, but she doesn’t recall ever speaking to him. Perhaps just another face in the crowd of many that come across her path. Most go unnoticed, only a few special ones will ever grace her palette.

 

[Tseranc]

Everyone had left to attend to their own piece of the puzzle, and Agent woods stood in the conference room alone, sipping his painfully black coffee. They had their break, now it was up to them to use it. Jerry was off researching what the various weapons could be, Lisa to milk information out of the corpse’s friends, and Michael had the sad duty of informing next of kin.

And it left the on loan FBI agent to ponder things in the creepy quiet of room. Where else had the killer slipped up? What else could he use to bring the bitch down?

The brandings. It might be chauvinistic, but he bet that no woman built branding irons herself…so someone else had. Unlike the wire used to bind the victims, which could be purchased at any hardware store, branding irons like this would have to be custom made…and someone would remember making them. He grabbed a phone book and pulled a phone close to him…it’d take forever, but how many metalworking shops could there be in this town?

::ring::

“Al's Metalworking, how can I help you?”

“Hi, I’m calling to inquire if you could produce a custom branding iron….”

 

[redbaron05]

Jerry notices the attractive lady approaching and smiles as he realizes she is approaching him she has a pretty smile he thinks then he realizes it is the lady from the cafe.

She extends her hand in greeting as she introduces herself as Angelica Winters one of the curators. Grasping her hand firmly and shaking it but not too firmly Jerry introduces himslf, "Nice to meet you Ma'am I'm Jerry Smith."

Releasing her hand he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out the packet of papers as he continues speaking. "I was having lunch at the cafe down the way and I think you may have dropped these and they looked kinda important so i brought them right over" he says as he hands her the papers he found.

 

[poohlive]

"So, sweetheart, what have you got for me?"

Debra bit at her lower lip a second, her tall lithe frame hung against the desk in mere perfect form. Long legs came up to her bulky lab coat, which made Trevor think more than once that some people should have a dress optional law into effect for the rest of their lives. She lived behind her small rimmed glasses, but they made her look even hotter, like some naughty librarian waiting for the right guy.

"You know, this is highly illegal, Trevor."

Trevor shrugged his shoulders, as he glanced behind her in anticipation. He should have probably been looking for a huge stack of files and papers, but instead found her tight ass, his eyes drawn to it like some half starved bee to a flower.

"I thought it was always highly illegal."

Debra pause a moment, revelling in how close they were. He tried to stare into her eyes, get lost in her soul, but the defining curves of her body would not let him go, they moved of their own accord, riding her like a roller coaster.

She seemed happy that he was drooling over her, and used this moment to go back behind her desk. When she moved, he could smell her hair, lilac. Oh, the girl even had good taste in shampoo. How could you get any better than that.

When she did move, Trevor got enough of himself back to see the stack of files on her desk. Good, she had brought them for him. At least this trip would not be wasted.

One more look at Debra, and Trevor realized that even if he left here empty handed this trip would not be wasted.

"Me giving you autopsy reports on dead people is only kinda illegal. Misdemeanor shit, you know, like the stuff you do every day in that fuckhole motel of yours. These are reports from an ongoing criminal investigation, victims of a serial killer, Trevor. They are practically evidence, you could be charged with anything from tampering with evidence to... to... aiding and abetting this Daddy's Girl killer."

He thought of the warf, that bootprint. No one else had gone that close, no one but him and the drug dealer, neither of them wore boots. The two Canadian runners didn't either. Only one person out there would have worn a boot. He had covered it in snow, sovered it and hoped it would go away. It came down to him being swept up in the middle of all this. If he were caught, if the right questions were answered, hell, he would go to prison for years. All for some money.

Speaking of which, Trevor laid down an envelope. Debra took it just as fast off the desk, and they made one more exchange in the eyes, both of them understanding the nature of their transaction.

"That's every detail on every victim. Everything I gave the police I'm giving you now. With the price you're paying, it's worth it. We don't carry the police files though, you'll have to find some other cute girl in the station to bribe in order to get those."

Trevor did know of a cute girl in the police station, but doubted she would help him. Didn't matter though, by the end of the night, he would get it by himself anyway.

"Ok... thanks a lot, Debra."

She gave him a smile, "Catch you later, stud."

She blew him a kiss, and then went back to her work. She had the look of a cat that had dangled a mouse in her clutches, only to find something more interesting and just walk away. Trevor was left standing in the shadows, trying to figure out if she had given him a compliment or an insult.

He left still unsure which it was.

 

[Babette_____]

Angelica took the papers and glanced over them, then she recalled his words about the café. “Oh... that is where I recognized you. You sat across the table from me.” She extended her hand and shook the gentleman’s hand lightly, then released it. She smoothed her skirt down and looked over to the desk.

“Hand me a couple of passes please,” she told the clerk. The woman behind the counter soon had in her hand a couple of passes to the museum and was placing them in Angelica’s hand.

She smiled her thanks and plucked a pen from the counter as well. “I do appreciate you bringing these back to me. I’d like to show you my appreciation by giving you these.”

She’d been initializing the cards with her signature and now handed them back to him. “This will get you and a loved one into the museum for our next upcoming event. We’ve got a display on Blades through the Ages going on this week... and in a few more weeks we’ll have Amazon Warriors Were They Real? Exhibit.”

The card were in his hands and she extended her hand again, “Thank you again, for bringing this back to me. Is there anything I can do for you while you’re here?” she asked adding, “There are several items on display here in the lobby, but if you have time the museum is buzzing today as well as the gift shop is available to peruse.”

“When is the next tour?” she asked the clerk.

“Another one in half an hour Miss Winters,” she replied.

“There you go, you can take a tour of the museum,” Angelica smiled back.

 

[Wyld52771]

Detective Michael Hallenbeck

Michael felt a sense of unexplainably profound relief when she picked up.

"This is Ivy".

"Hi, Ivy...this is Michael."

She must have picked up the tension in his voice that showed how upset he was, because she asked, "Is everything alright?"

He sighed, and replied, "Yes...I'm fine. Well, that's not ENTIRELY true, but I'll be ok...It's just been a rough day. I just notified the next of kin of the victim from this morning. They took it pretty hard. It's not a part of the job I enjoy, but I feel I owe it to them to deliver the news myself. Just bothers me alot to see the families suffer through something like this, I guess."

Her voice was filled with sympathy and concern as she said, "If you aren't up to dinner tonight, it's ok, Michael...we can reschedule."

"No...It's fine, Ivy. I'd rather not reschedule," he said, and then impulsively added, "I'm looking forward to seeing you tonight. It's about the only positive thing I've had to look forward to today."

He heard her chuckle, and he smiled, enjoying the sound of her voice. "Anyway, I just wanted to finalize our plans for the evening. We have reservations at Tiadori's for 7:30 p.m., so I thought I'd come pick you up at 7:00, if that works for you. Will that be ok?"

 

[Alerdene]

She could tell immediately something was wrong. His tone was all off from how she was used to hearing him sound. When he explained, she sat back a bit, nodding to herself. She didn't think she could handle that part of being a police officer... well that among other things.

Offering to reschedule, she was selfishly pleased when he refused. Agreeing that 7:00 was fine, she gave him directions to her house. When they got off the phone, she smiled delightfully, happy that he still wanted to go out, even if the underlying reasons were not the reasons she'd have liked.

Standing and walking to the table her bag was on, she pulled out the Fed Ex envelope that was sticking slightly out, carrying it into the bedroom as she walked. Ripping the top open, she glanced again at the 'From' section and wrinkled her nose as she saw it was blank. Perhaps her father's new secretary had sent something and forgotten to fill that part in. It happened occasionally. Tossing the open envelope on the bed, she opened her huge closet and began a mental catalog of what would be appropriate to wear.

 

[Katamari Roller]

Lisa rubbed her temples, trying to clear her head a bit. Stopping to take in the architecture of the university's main entrance, she rested against the nearest tree. The pain had almost disappeared, and the throbbing was well in check. But still, she felt a bit of soft-headedness. And hunger. A lot of it. Her stomach growled. Damn, nothing in the whole morning...

It was a good thing the cafeteria would be open. She looked at her watch. 13:23, the perfect time to have a sandwich.

It had been a lot since last time Lisa entered the university's cafeteria, but it still had that mystic air... the sounds of dishes, the smell of coffee and meat... the atmosphere of warm relaxation coming from the dozens of young minds taking a rest from their studies...

And since when did you stop being "young", hmmm? Lisa walked to the nearest stool, and sat on it. The two guys on her left took a short look at her, as she made herself comfortable. For her, this meant resting her elbows widely, stamping her feet down on the bars running along the floor, and leaning forwards until her back resembled an arch from a cathedral.

"Oi, mister. A sandwich, and some information..."





Half an hour later, Lisa had managed to stop the dean from getting wind of what was happening, as she digged out some info on potential witnesses. Because if the dean found out, then she'd have to explain everything to him. And:
a) she wasn't in the mood.
b) he was bound to blame the police for it. Having in mind how important Glenville was...

Unfortunately, his two friends were not as good help as she had hoped for. They were long gone before Glenville. However, it was a stroke of luck that Dale was such a womanizer. The fact that he had gotten two women out with him made him pretty noticeable in the Sailor's Rooster...

And Glenville too. He was a celebrity, after all. But one of his friends getting two women at the same time definitely helped...

Suddenly, as Lisa sipped some coffee in that very bar, she realised how coldly she was assessing the situation. As cocky at those two football players had been when they first saw her, they were genuinely shocked when Lisa told them what happened to their friend. There was disbelief first, and then fear... who would be the next victim? She could read the doubt in their eyes.

Well, hopefully, no one. "Hopefully" because the interrogations had so far offered no good clues. Daddy's Little Girl, or the suspect at the very least, was tall, attractive, red-haired, young... a true black widow, if the half-smile on the barman's face was honest. At least he had tried to erase it off her face before she could notice.

It did make sense, after all. Who better to pick men as her victims, than an attractive woman? Make them think you want sex, and they'll be right after you...

That was a line of thought Lisa didn't want to go along.

"Thanks for the info."
"Hey, why did you want to know all this?"
"Errr... let's just say I have a personal interest on it, mmmkay?"

God, I hate it when I can't come up with something better than that... Lisa hurried back to her car, not giving time for the barman to enquire furter, as she scribbled down a couple more words on a notepad. It was better to hide this kind of thing for as long as one could. When she got out, she noticed how late it was. About 19:00 PM, probably. The sun was starting to set on the horizon.

Lisa drove back to the station in a rather morose mood. Yes, she had gotten a more or less good description of the suspect (as good as you could get it from a leering barman, a bored-out-of-her-mind waitress, and a couple phone calls to some patrons present the last night Martin Glenville was seen alive). But, hell, SHE herself could be the killer, judging by the descriptions...

You know, maybe they got their descriptions confused with your current looks... Showing legs all day had been a pain in the ass, more than she should have noticed when she chose her outfit this morning. Oh, well. It can't be me. I don't have LONG hair... So, long, red hair, nice features, green eyes, about 6 feet tall... yeah, a black widow, no doubt. And a noticeable use of leather... hmmmmm, S&M, maybe? Although that's a bit of a stretch, ain't it? Just because she wears leather doesn't mean...

Oh, and pity nobody got wind of what she drove, besides being something "big". Big? Probably a van... or a small truck of some sort... but a woman driving that would attract a bit much attention, wouldn't she? Maybe just a LandRover, or something along those lines.

The case was turning out rather interesting. Definitely more entertaining than the night-shift!

Lisa grinned as she parked the car.




A few minutes later, she knocked on the door. "Anybody home? I gots me some info, a bit lacking, but..."

 

[redbaron05]

Taking her offered hand and shaking it. "Yes ma'am that was me at the next table at the cafe." As she speaks to the clerk and initials two forms the clerk hands her he takes a moment and notices how truly pretty she is.

After she signs the forms and hands them to him she explains they are two free passes for him and a loved one. Smiling as he accepts the tickets he says, "Thanks but there is no one special in my life right now." As she continues to explain about the exhibit and the upcoming one she mentions the next tour in half an hour,

Looking at his watch Jerry says, "I think ill take that tour sounds interesting" after shaking his hand again she asks if there is anything else she can do for him.

Blushing slightly he asks, "I know we just met but i was wondering and im not usually this forward but would you like to have dinner with me tonight?".

 

[Babette_____]

Angelica was caught off guard by the gentleman's request. She felt the heated blush slam over her as well as the stares from the security guard, the clerk, and what patrons that were surrounding them. She blinked several times and then coughed. “Umm... why don't we talk over here,” she said. She was so embarrassed, how did she tell this stranger that she was not about to accept a date with a man she didn't know, a thought crossed her mind and she smirked deep down inside.

Once they were not so out in the open she spoke softly to him. “Sir. . . umm. . . Jerry, umm . . . Mr. Smith.” She swallowed and bit her lip. “I'm flattered that you suddenly are so overwhelmed that you feel the need to ask me out to dinner, but well. . . we haven't even shared more than a few words together.”

She then looked around the room. “I'm sorry. . . I'm sure if you would like the tour though. . . Mr. Smith, it isn't you, please don't think that.”

Angelica wasn't sure what to say to the man, not wanting to hurt his feelings, so she explained her reasoning behind her refusal. “Mr. Smith, I just lost my boyfriend this morning. He left me for another woman. . . on top of that you are a stranger to me. . . there is a killer on the loose in our city. . . and I'm sorry. . . how do I know I'm safe with you?” she chewed on her lower lip.

“Please enjoy your tour and have a pleasant day. I'm sure that if you and I meet again, than perhaps we could become good friends. You can never have to many friends.” Angelica smiled and said her goodbye and then went to her office. She sat there several minutes absorbing the fact the man had asked her out. She was shocked by the wave of loneliness that swept through her when she spoke of Brain and Slutty Synder.

Within hours Angelica was back at work and was looking forward to a relaxing night at her city apartment.

 

[redbaron05]

Trying not to look dejected by her refusal of his invitation to dinner Jerry blushes as he realizes he has embarrassed her shaking his head, "No No it's quite alright please accept my apology for being forward I understand totally. Yes ma'am I'd still like to take the tour."

Feeling like an ass as she walks away Jerry walks over and looks at an exhibit as he waits for the tour to begin.

 

[Tseranc]

“Damnit”

Shop after shop he’d called, and was beginning to nurture the hope that the killer just started of with the end of the alphabet, but Agent Woods had finally exhausted them all, and he slammed the phone book shut.

He had nothing, and desperately hoped that the others were doing better then he. The tire castings were finally back, looked like several vehicles in the area, but only one really close to the body’s location at the scene. Pretty standard tires, could be off a small truck or minivan. Maybe that information would mean more to one of his co-workers.

After shuffling through files and reports for another hour or some, he heard Lisa come in.

"Anybody home? I gots me some info, a bit lacking, but..."

“No one here but us chicken’s,” he replied dryly…honestly he kinda hated that joke…but it still got told over and over again.

 

[Katamari Roller]

Lisa froze in her tracks when she heard Woods' voice. Looking around, there was no one else around. Quickly, she resumed her entrance, trying to save some face. Not now, damnit.

Lisa strode towards Woods, and extracted her notepad. She tore a couple leaves off, and dropped them in front of him.

"First page, description of the suspect, and any data pertaining to her. She seems to be a black widow, attracts men to kill them later. Pretty much looks like me, but I wouldn't trust the one witness I interviewed thoroughly. It also seems probable that she drove something like a van, or a 4x4. But this is more of a theory until I can find more witnesses.

Second page, list of possible witnesses. That is, the patrons of the Sailor's Rooster, the last place where Marty Glenville was seen. First two witnesses, his two chums. Then, the barman, Peter Vellis. And finally, some four of five people he said were at the establishment that night. I talked to two of them through the phone, but they offered no definitive clues on the suspect's vehicle. Only that it was something pretty big for a woman.

The witnesses I haven't interviewed are these..." Lisa leant forward, and pointed at the three names without a tick in front of them. A woman, and two more men. "Errr..." Suddenly, Lisa noticed how close she was to Woods, and quickly stepped away like a scared mouse. "That's about it, unless you or Hallenbeck want to go through them personally, which I reccomend, being how you are more experienced in this..."

Lisa stepped away again, and sat on a chair, facing at a neutral point between looking at Woods, and not looking at him. "I made my best to make sure only the victim's friends knew about this, but I'm pretty sure it will be on the newspapers the day after tomorrow. Not before, I bet, unless those two guys have some connection to the press, and I doubt it. They are the witless kind of athletes..."

Glenville was probably no better. Just a bunch of retarded, superior-feeling bastards...

 

[Tseranc]

“Yes, both Hallenbeck and I will go through this list again, good work O’Connell.”

He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his temples; the hours spent on the phone and scanning the phone book had taken their toll. He reached for his coffee, swirled the remaining liquid around in the cup for a few seconds. He knew it would be cold and bitter, and have just a hint left of the Irish whiskey he’d ‘flavored’ his coffee with earlier. Down it went anyway, eliciting only a slight cringe.

Looking back up at Lisa, “At least you’ve been more productive then I have today, I tried tracking down the branding irons, figuring that they might have been produced locally, but I came up with squat.”

The rest of the gang should be filling in with their reports of success or failure any time now…he hoped everyone had a more fruitful day then he had. Woods truly felt as if he let this murderous bitch get another day ahead of him.

 

[jushorny]

Marc Jordan

From about midway through dinner my mind was running through various ways to make the evening last longer. Samantha’s smile, her charm, her touch, all just wooed me even more than she did the previous day. Dealing with Deb and her boyfriend seemed like years ago.

I ordered the restaurant’s specialty dessert for us to share and once again glanced into Samantha’s eyes while my hand lightly took long slow caresses along her thigh. I leaned in, feeling the urge to taste her lips again. This time, our lips rubbed lightly, my tongue licking her bottom lips before applying a courteous amount of pressure, kindly asking to explore further. Her soft lips parted ever so slightly as my tongue began to slide inside her warmth. My free arm rising up, the back of my hand grazing her soft silky skin of her cheek. I felt her hand on my thigh and hoped she wouldn’t travel to high and feel how aroused I really felt. It seemed like it would not be so gentleman like for me to feel that way.

“Samantha,” I said as I fed her a small bite of the delicious dessert, “I really would like to spend more time with you this evening.” I could feel my arm pits beginning to perspire, always dreading the possibility of being turned down, rejected. “I would very much like it if you would come by my place, maybe watch a movie, or sit and get to know one another better. I feel as if I know very little about the real Samantha.”

 

[RedHairedandFriendly]

Samantha’s smile was evident on her lips and she felt the hum of her pulse rush through her veins. She wanted to be with him more, but. . . a movie. . . in his home. She wasn’t sure if that was the way to go now or not. She ran her tongue over her lips and tasted him. “I think that would be a wonderful idea,” she said.

She was surprised by her statement. Samantha had been poised to say “no” it was on the tip of her tongue. . . she didn’t. Suddenly she saw herself the way she was. A single woman, 2 cats, no lover, no boyfriend, no husband. . . alone. . . and she didn’t like the picture.

“Should we stop and get anything on the way?” She looked at where her hand was and eased it higher on his leg. “I would like to spend more time with you to.”

Her eyes shifted suddenly, someone stirring at the edge of her vision was coming toward them. She pulled away and swallowed nervously. Deb was approaching again and on her face was a look of disgust.

“Look I wanted to tell you and your,” Deb shouted as she eyed Sam up and down. “Your hoe in sheep’s clothing that you were embarrassing and you wouldn’t have to bother with me bothering you again. You were a lousy boyfriend and you,” she looked at Sam again. “I doubt you’ll find him satisfying.”

Deb quickly turned and walked away.

“Ummm. . . that was uncomfortable,” Sam muttered. “I think we should grab a movie and go. She’s caused enough of a scene we’ll not be forgotten any time soon.”

 

[sharingfantasies]

Serenity Breecher waited in the line with the other patrons waiting for the museum tour. She was on lunch break from her position as administrative assistant to a import/export dealer. While the title sounded fancy, and looked great on the business cards she had ordered for herself, the reality was Serenity was a go-fer, a paper pusher, a order taker. Her boss was the one that traveled around the world looking for items that his clients might purchase. Serenity sat at a old wooden desk and kept track of all the items coming in and out of the warehouse, well storage shed, and did all the paperwork citing the authenticity of all the items. But Serenity loved art, loved looking and touching and being around art. She breathed it, dreamed about it, and on her lunch breaks, she explored the city's myriad of museums.

As she stood there, she noticed a man enter the museum and approach the front desk. In moments, one of the curators came out from the back, took some papers from him, pulled him to the side, and said something that turned the man's face red. Serenity was a people watcher and often she would try to figure out what conversations were about. Whatever this one was about, the man had been obviously dismissed in a way that made him feel embarrassed. The curator was looking at him with a pitying and yet at the same time condescending way that made Serenity feel bad for the guy.

When the man turned in her direction she looked away, pretending to read the brochure she had picked up about the upcoming exhibits. The one they had going today was "Blades Through the Ages" which Serenity was looking forward to seeing. Her boss sometimes sent her knives and swords from other countries, but she didn't really know how to tell one type from another or why anyone would want one of them anyway. She hoped that the exhibit would give her some background information and also help her recognize a scythe from a sickle and a epee from a sword.

Serenity felt the man move in behind her as she looked down at her notepad at the questions she had prepared for the tour guide. She could almost feel his breath on her neck below the french twist she had forced her thick brown hair into shaping. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other and was rewarded with a sense of being a little further away from the man. She hoped the tour would start soon, as it was, she would have to leave during the tour to get back to the office before her lunch hour was up. She would come back again later in the week and time it so that she caught the rest of the tour, but for now, if they didn't get started soon she was not going to have time to see anything.

 

[Babette_____]

Molly the NPC college gal

The museum tour started, the petite little brunette Molly was volunteering at the museum as extra community service for her college Scholarship. She talked to the group and gave them the usual, please don’t touch this and that unless she allows it. She gave the history of the museum as well as the reason behind the tour itself. She mentioned how everyone would have the opportunity to visit the gift shop at the end of the tour and brochures were readily available for future exhibits that were coming up.

As the tour began she took the group to the first display. “First we will be looking at the daggers from Japan. This is the Tai Pan. Most daggers are known for their thin, easily broken tips. However the Tai Pan has a sturdy point. Wid and thick, very hard to break. A more modern version of this knife can be seen in those action movies with the hero always doing little shifts and turns with their knives.”

Molly knew she didn’t sound professional, but that was what they paid people for, not grabbed from the college and take away their free time.

“Moving on...” she said, rather droll. “We have another dagger, this one our curator Angelica Winters has allowed us to handle and let you hold it, with me supervising of course. When it is your turn to handle the weapon please notice the beautiful engravings that cover the handle all the way down to the scabbard. These daggers are good for martial arts as well as loved by collectors.”

Molly watched the group quietly remain in a small huddle, a guard appeared and helped supervise the passing of the weapon. As it was handed to each person Molly continued, “These were give as gifts and was very important for the proper etiquette and rewards for services given. They were used for close range fights as well as decorations and collections.”

The knife made its way around the group, fingerprints littering the handle. The blade sheathed in a thick plastic that almost served as a second skin, protected the patrons from cutting themselves.

 

[poohlive]

Trevor had parked his piece of shit car on the other side of the street from the police station. He sat there looking at it, waiting for someone, or no one. He was not quite sure anymore. It would be a weird thing to wait for people to come out which you had no idea who they were or what they looked like.

Well, that is not entirely true. He knew they were the ones in charge of the serial killer, and they had their own little office with their own files and whatnot. And, he even knew a few of the faces, recognized one or two from this morning's wonderful little exercise in tampering with a crime scene. He rolled his eyes, as he looked over the files once more.

It was mostly because he was bored. Trevor knew he was going to spend at least a few more hours out here waiting for the police to wrap up their busniess for the day. He had nothing to do, nothing to read, and the huge file of autospy reports just seemed more than a little tempting.

So, here he was, reading it. It was intriguing, Trevor had to admit. He thought it was interesting, the deifference in victims, the similarities. How they had died, alcohol in their system, no real D.N.A. evidence anywhere. Signs of sex, but not rape.

The sexual angle, now that was curious. He wondered for a moment if the cops ever thought to look at the local porn shops, ask around. If she was new to town, if she was strange to the scene of an adult shop the merchants would spot her a mile away. Those guys were clever, like him, they knew when to keep their eyes open and their mouths shut.

He wondered if he should call a few of them. Some owed him favors.

"No, that's stupid," Trevor said, as he shook his head and turned to the next report. He was supposed to gather information for the reporter, not play detective. They had probably already thought of that, and a hundred other places she might visit as well.

He took a sip from his big gulp and continued to read, eventually sifting through the back of his station wagon for an old notbook and a half chewed pencil.

Trevor began jotting down notes.