Lauren (2 page)

I need a social life.
She checked the number.

Her dad was calling. She'd have to get back to him later. Right now, the wicked stench of a dead body that lay sprawled out in a ravine, by the side of the train tracks, required her full attention.

All who hung out down here were the low lifes of society, at night, and young hoodlum kids looking for some kind of adventure, when they cut school.

Lauren glanced over at the two twelve-year-old boys, who now sat on the ground near a patrol car.

They didn't look too good.

They'd been the ‘lucky ones’ who found the body, and, according to one of the patrol officers, they'd been sporadically throwing up their insides for the last fifteen minutes.

Maybe this would be enough to get them to stay in school?
Secure a better future, and maybe you won't end up like this guy.

Lauren laughed, as Tom the lieutenant took the opportunity to scare the crap out of the kids, by saying something similar to what Lauren just thought.

"Hey, you, listen to me and listen to me good. Stay in freaking school or you could wind up like this guy. Got it?” he stated in his toughest voice, with the meanest look on his face.

The boys looked convinced right now, but she knew better than anyone all it took was hanging out with the wrong people, making the wrong friends, or just one stupid decision, to change their minds.

She silently prayed those two kids would never forget today.

Tom turned around. Lauren watched him, smirking, already anticipating the response to her presence.

"Hey, Phelps, this must be my lucky day. Out of all the detectives to get this one, they send you. Someone is watching over me.” Tom held his hand over his heart and laid on the drama well.

Standing in the dreadful heat made her antsy. It felt hotter, and it had to be pushing 90 degrees by now. She couldn't help but miss the AC, back in the unmarked patrol car.

Smiling at the lieutenant, she winked, then followed him to the body.

Lieutenant McNulty was a big man and a little overweight, but it suited him. He was bald, tough, and covered with multiple tattoos. A few of them showed through his perspiration-soaked white dress shirt.

He looked at her as they walked side by side, still expressing his gratefulness the commander sent Lauren.

"I'm honored ... I'm truly, truly honored.” He bumped her shoulder with the side of his arm.

Lauren laughed. “I was in the area, that's all, but I'm glad you're so happy, Lieu. So what do you need from me?” A few patrol officers eyed her while securing the crime scene.

Tom moved closer, and then took out his handkerchief to wipe his brow.

"Let's see, how about you and me, candlelight, dinner at my place?"

"How original,” Lauren barely responded. She was used to this game she played with Tom. He had taken her under his wing about five years ago, after her promotion to Detective. Homicide investigation was part of the normal conversation in her house when she was growing up, especially since her father was a local detective in River Point, upstate. He was good at his job and had learned from the best himself.

Even Lauren had the opportunity to meet the famous ‘Murder Cop’ from N.Y.C. Geberth was his name, and she attended and completed numerous of his seminar courses.

Tom smiled. He probably noticed how serious Lauren was as she observed the crime scene.

She watched what everyone did, and made sure no one made a mistake.

"Hey, gorgeous, this is all yours. I'll just supervise a bit on this one, seeing how I'm the lieutenant and all. Don't worry. Everyone's doing what they're supposed to be doing."

"Sorry, Lieu, force of habit, I guess. So it looks like he's been here for a few hours, throat's been slit, he's fully clothed, and from here, it doesn't look like any other injuries have occurred. So what do you think?"

"He's a bum, roaming the streets. He probably just pissed another bum off, and you know how it is down here, kid, life's a bitch."

"And then you die."

"Exactly. But, because I can see that look in your eyes, we're going to have the coroner do a full autopsy and cover all our bases."

"Good, because things aren't always as they appear,” Lauren stated, and Tom smiled.

"You sure I can't talk you into that dinner?” This time, a few patrol officers who stood around grunted as if he should just give up.

Lauren laughed, then gave him a light punch in the arm.

"You mean a lot to me, Tom, you know that? So why screw things up? Besides, I already know all your annoying habits, and more importantly your track record with women."

Tom put his hands up in defense. “What record?” He tried to say it with a straight face, but couldn't. Instead, he laughed.

"I know you really well, too, Lauren. Work, work, work, and always having something to prove."

A patrol officer interrupted their conversation. “Hey, Lieutenant McNulty, we got this guy over here who says he saw someone talking to the victim last night."

Both Lauren and Tom glanced toward the guy, a fellow bum who looked like he just finished a bottle of whiskey.

Lauren memorized his appearance.

Smudges of dirt and grime scattered around the darkness of his eyes, his cheeks, and neck. His shoulder-length hair looked as if it had been combed with a pork chop, and his clothing was more appropriate for winter months.

Like most homeless people, he was more than likely afraid to use the free services of the homeless shelters. He was safer on the streets.

As soon as he started talking, Lauren smelled the alcohol on his breath. It filled the air, which was so thick, one could cut through it with a knife. Sandwiched in-between was the stench of his body odor, due to the lack of any type of hygiene whatsoever.

Lauren wiped the small drops of perspiration from her forehead, hoping he didn't come too close. The thought of catching another smell formed a small lump in her throat. Normally, such things didn't bother her, but for some reason, this guy did.

Tom sighed, sounding annoyed, but asked questions anyway.

"So, you saw someone talking to the victim? What did he look like?"

The bum remained silent. Lauren figured he was either trying to focus due to his drunken stupor or he stalled for something.

"Give me a drink and I'll tell ya,” the guy demanded.

Lauren noted his bloodshot eyes, as well as just how filthy his salt and pepper beard really was. He stepped closer.

The blue of his eyes looked glossy, which confirmed his drunken condition.

"I ain't got time for this. What do ya know, guy? Don't waste our time,” Tom added, looking rather irritated, as he eyed the bum and was sure to keep his distance. The guy reeked.

"How about you, pretty lady? You got a drink? I'll talk to you.” The bum moved closer to Lauren. He was about to touch her when Tom blocked the move.

"Get this piece of shit out of here,” Tom stated, as the bum eyed Lauren like a piece of meat. She got the chills at the way he seemed to stare right through her, as well as getting another full inhale of his odor.

Guy Johnston, a patrol officer, grabbed the bum and pulled him away from Lauren and Tom. Tom rubbed the top of his hand across the front of his nose and cleared his throat as if that would help alleviate the odor.

Between the stench of the dead body and that of the bum, Lauren figured she would more than likely have to destroy the clothing she wore.

It was one of the many reasons, besides salary, why homicide detectives didn't wear designer clothing.

"You know, Phelps, sometimes I get fed up with this shit."

Lauren just smiled at Tom's statement. She knew the ‘job’ could be frustrating sometimes.

"Let's wrap things up, Detective, then we'll meet at the medical examiner's office.” Tom winked at Lauren, and she pulled out her notebook again, adding some final notes and trying to ignore her innate sense of smell.

"You always want to meet me at all the classy places, Lieu."

He laughed and Lauren jotted down some notes.

Upon arriving at the scene 1:18 p.m., a 911 call 1:00 p.m. caller anonymous and unidentified. Patrol officers Guy Johnston and Lizzy Lopez, first officers on the scene. Crime scene taped off. Officers followed proper procedures to help contain evidence. Temperature, 89 degrees, no breeze, the air thick, stuffy, bright, sunny summer day.

Body looks to be a male, mid to upper forties, brown hair, medium build, dead at least ten hours. Rigor mortis has set in.

Location: Metro North station, 1/2 mile from terminal. One possible witness, detained by Officer Johnston.

"You got everything down, Phelps?” Tom asked, smiling. Lauren was a by-the-book detective. She followed the
Practical Homicide Checklist and Field Guide
to the ‘T’ and this homicide wouldn't be any different.

"Yes, sir,” she said, just as the forensics technicians finished taking pictures of the crime scene. There was one tire mark they took an imprint of, which may turn out to be their only lead. Lauren would check on everything later in the day.

[Back to Table of Contents]

"River Point Police Department. Commander Don Phelps speaking."

"Good afternoon, Commander Phelps,” Lauren teased her dad, as he answered his office phone rather seriously.

"Hey, honey. I thought for sure I wouldn't hear back from you until later today. When you didn't answer my call this morning, I assumed you were too busy."

"Yeah, I had a call to go on, and now I'm on my way to the ME's. I had a few minutes to call you back. What's going on?” Lauren maneuvered the unmarked police car down the busy city streets.

"Are you coming up to visit this weekend? The town is having their big Memorial Day festivities."

"That's the plan, unless something else pops up. Should I still meet you, Mom, and Dave at the Mardullo's house?"

"Yeah. I just saw Steven yesterday, in town, and he said Victoria's brother is done with his tour in Iraq. It's going to be a huge celebration."

"Oh, my God, that's fantastic. I haven't seen James in years. Victoria, Sherry, and Peter must be so excited. The whole Mardullo and Malley family must be."

"They are. James hasn't even met his two nephews Danielle and Joseph. He's only seen pictures."

"That's awesome. I will definitely try my hardest."

"Hey, honey, you do know there are other detectives working in New York City?"

Lauren let out a sigh. Everyone seemed to be on her case lately about her work hours.

"I know that, Daddy. Listen, I've got to go. I'll see you this weekend.” Lauren then hung up the phone.

The voice of the dispatcher on the police radio crackled in the background. And as Lauren drove down the city side streets, she noted everyone was out of their apartments hoping for some small, cooling breeze and a cool night tonight.

The past week had delivered a heat wave 24/7 and she wasn't the only one fed up with it.

Lauren thought back to her conversation with her dad. He was only voicing his concern. She really shouldn't have gotten angry with him. He, of all people, should understand her determination and desire to be the best homicide detective she could be.

After all, she had a lot of barriers against her. She was a female and female detectives, good ones, were few and far between.

Some fellow female officers were willing to sleep their way to the top. Therefore, it made it more difficult for her to prove herself and convince the brass she wouldn't take that route.

She made third grade detective by solving homicides, following the rules, and getting the job done. She owed a lot of it to her dad and Tom McNulty.

Along the way, she met other detectives who didn't always follow protocol, but they got the job done.

Her father was a great success and after helping to solve the Mardullo murder case, he was retained by the River Point P.D. to be C.O.

Police work was in her blood, and she was good at it. No one would get away with minimizing her abilities or claiming she didn't have the instincts or the stomach for it.

Once again, the police scanner interrupted Lauren's thoughts just as she entered the parking lot at the coroner's office.

Someone couldn't take the heat and was found dead. They were dropping like flies this week
.

She found a tight parking spot and went inside.

Lauren met McNulty in the hallway, outside the autopsy room. She hated this place, and, no matter what any detective said, she would never get used to viewing a body, especially during or after an autopsy.

They both placed the material masks over their noses and mouths and prepared to enter the room.

Dr. Edward Monty was the pathologist assigned to their John Doe.

The mask didn't do much to hide the smell and both Lauren and Tom held the facemask tighter against their mouths as Dr. Monty went over the findings.

"So, you're not sure what type of weapon was used?” Tom asked.

"Not certain right now, but it was something sharp and thin."

"A razor?” Lauren asked.

"Possibly. There were also some bloodstains found on the victim's pants, which aren't consistent with the direction his own blood would have taken after the initial cut. I sealed that up and sent it to the lab. There was a piece of thread or carpet fiber that was found across the victim's chest."

"You mean as if he grabbed the victim from behind and slit his throat?"

"Exactly. So while he did it, his clothing touched the clothing of the victim."

"Interesting,” Tom added. They hoped these small clues would lead them to their suspect.

Lauren went a step further, recalling her training and textbooks she read. “You're talking about transfer or exchange. Right, Doc?"

"Exactly. As you know, Detective Phelps, the perpetrator will take away traces of the victim and the scene,” Dr. Monty stated.

"And the victim will retain traces of the perpetrator and may leave traces of himself on the perpetrator. Also, the perpetrator will leave traces of himself at the scene,” Lauren added.