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Further notes at the end.
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It was a great honour to be asked to work with Mackenzie, no matter what the circumstances. Everyone said that he was the best, that he saw things other detectives always missed, and finally I had the chance to see him in action for myself.
I did feel sorry for Mal Donaghy, but it wasn’t my fault that he had fallen through three floors of an old warehouse, it was my chance to work alongside the best now, and I had to grasp it with both hands.
Heading up the stairwell I felt a little nervous. Not about having to walk into the scene of a murder, I’d got used to that in my two months on homicide already, but about Mackenzie. I’d worked with some fine detectives in the past, in other departments, but none with a reputation like Mackenzie’s.
I walked into room 314, and saw him standing there in the hall. I approached him, and held out my hand.
“Al Brown, it’s a pleasure to meet you Sir” I said.
“Hey, just call me Mac.” He shook my hand, and gave me a smile.
“Head into the room, come back, tell me what you think, your first thoughts on it, then we’ll go from there” he said, ushering me into the kitchen.
I'd been given a quick briefing before I came down to the building. An old man had been murdered in his apartment, Charles Henshaw, he'd been discovered by a neighbour when they spotted that the door had been left open.
I went into the kitchen, and right in the centre of the room was Charles tied to a chair. He looked quite elderly, wearing a knitted cardigan and a pair of corduroy trousers, which he had soiled in his dying moments. There was a large bruise on the top of his bald head.
I left the room to speak to Mac.
“Looks like he was tied up, then struck on the head, a killer blow. Could be a burglar, tied the old guy up whilst he was looking for things to steal. Maybe Charles got a bit lippy, so our burglar clocked him on the head with something.” I said.
The look on Mac’s face told me I was wrong.
“Al” He said “Look around the kitchen, the hall here, in the bedroom, the lounge, it’s relatively tidy. A burglar would have turned this place upside down.”
Of course. This didn’t look to be the work of a petty thief. It was someone that knew what they were after, and murder had always been the plan.
“I want you to take another look at the victims head.” Said Mac
He followed me in, and I looked again at the bruise. It was a large purple patch, though some parts were significantly worse than others.
“Looks like repeated blows” I said, hoping that I’d got it right this time.
“That’s right Al. I’d say that our murderer spent a great deal of time hitting the victim on the head, with something rather small.”
“Like what?” I asked.
“Look in the cutlery drawer” he replied.
I pulled open the drawer. A slightly musty smell rose from it. I peered inside to see that it was almost empty. There was a knife, a fork, a tin opener, and a bread knife. Nothing else.
“What do you make of that?” Asked Mac.
“He didn’t often have company.” I replied, clutching at straws.
“Perhaps, but that’s not what I’m after.”
I opened one of the cupboards to see tins of baked bean, soup, and spaghetti.
“He wasn’t a big cook?” I said.
“What don’t you see?” He asked.
I looked in the drawer again, and it hit me.
“There is no spoon!”
“That’s right.” Replied Mac. "I looked in there earlier. It looks like our murderer bashed poor Charles head in with the spoon, and took the weapon with him."
"But what kind of man uses a spoon as a murder weapon?"
"Well Al, it seems like it was a torture. It was planned too."
"How do you know?"
"Look at the rope he's tied with. Hardly the kind you'd leave lying around the house."
"There's no sign of any struggle either." I said, "So it could be someone that Charles knew"
"It's likely. I've got some of our boys asking questions along the hall, see if he had any enemies, or strange visitors."
"But" Continued Mac "It could just as easily be some wacko playing a sick game. He could have made the place look tidy again, he could have kept the old guy quiet until he was ready to tap away at his skull until it finished Charles off. We have to keep our options open."
"So how long would it take to kill someone with repeated taps to the head with a spoon?" I asked, puzzled by the whole thing.
"Well once we've finished up here the body will go down to the morgue, and Doc Hapsby will take a look at it. He'll have some answers for us."
"Are you positive that this man was killed with a spoon?" I asked, still a little shocked that anyone would even have the patience to do such a thing.
"Yes, one hundred percent." Replied Mac. "The size of the small bruises that make up the larger one, they're the right size for a spoon. Also, you didn't see the mark on the back of his hand."
"What mark?"
Mac grabbed Charles right hand, and turned it round so I could see the back. A patch of skin had been burnt badly, it was indented in an oval shape.
"Was that done with a spoon too?" I asked, already knowing the answer.
"Yes. Heated to an incredibly high temperature, then held on the back of the hand until it had burnt right in. Probably done after death too, as nobody heard a scream."
"Jesus Christ!" I exclaimed
"I've seen worse in my time. Anyway, that's not a great deal more we can do here now. The body's going down to the morgue later, and we'll know more then. The other officers might find us a lead to follow too. Right now I suggest we go for breakfast. Sound good to you?"
"Sure Mac. That sounds good to me."
Mac was quiet at breakfast. I tried to ask him a few questions, but he said that he liked to eat breakfast in peace, give his brain a bit of a rest, and who was I not to respect his wishes?
It wasn't until we got to the morgue and got some fresh information from Doc Hapsby that he was willing to talk again.
;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;
Story abandoned. No easy way of winding it up, under time limit I’d have no time to give it a polish. I didn’t really know where the story was going either. Still it was a change in theme for me, so worth trying.
It got chosen by a......a......Notable!
I'm so happy!
*Prances off*
> By the way - tell me when you've finished my topic, because I think
> I'll post it in your topic or you post it in mine or whatever, to
> reduce clutter. A lot of people visit this forum these days!
I've got two and three up now, so I'll work on your one tonight and post it late tomorrow evening.
If you post yours tomorrow I'll follow with mine, otherwise I'll stick mine down first.
Though I don't suppose it will matter if we use separate threads either.
I felt it was a bit cluttered with names at the beginning though - I don't think we need the partner's name really.
By the way - tell me when you've finished my topic, because I think I'll post it in your topic or you post it in mine or whatever, to reduce clutter. A lot of people visit this forum these days!
Further notes at the end.
;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;
It was a great honour to be asked to work with Mackenzie, no matter what the circumstances. Everyone said that he was the best, that he saw things other detectives always missed, and finally I had the chance to see him in action for myself.
I did feel sorry for Mal Donaghy, but it wasn’t my fault that he had fallen through three floors of an old warehouse, it was my chance to work alongside the best now, and I had to grasp it with both hands.
Heading up the stairwell I felt a little nervous. Not about having to walk into the scene of a murder, I’d got used to that in my two months on homicide already, but about Mackenzie. I’d worked with some fine detectives in the past, in other departments, but none with a reputation like Mackenzie’s.
I walked into room 314, and saw him standing there in the hall. I approached him, and held out my hand.
“Al Brown, it’s a pleasure to meet you Sir” I said.
“Hey, just call me Mac.” He shook my hand, and gave me a smile.
“Head into the room, come back, tell me what you think, your first thoughts on it, then we’ll go from there” he said, ushering me into the kitchen.
I'd been given a quick briefing before I came down to the building. An old man had been murdered in his apartment, Charles Henshaw, he'd been discovered by a neighbour when they spotted that the door had been left open.
I went into the kitchen, and right in the centre of the room was Charles tied to a chair. He looked quite elderly, wearing a knitted cardigan and a pair of corduroy trousers, which he had soiled in his dying moments. There was a large bruise on the top of his bald head.
I left the room to speak to Mac.
“Looks like he was tied up, then struck on the head, a killer blow. Could be a burglar, tied the old guy up whilst he was looking for things to steal. Maybe Charles got a bit lippy, so our burglar clocked him on the head with something.” I said.
The look on Mac’s face told me I was wrong.
“Al” He said “Look around the kitchen, the hall here, in the bedroom, the lounge, it’s relatively tidy. A burglar would have turned this place upside down.”
Of course. This didn’t look to be the work of a petty thief. It was someone that knew what they were after, and murder had always been the plan.
“I want you to take another look at the victims head.” Said Mac
He followed me in, and I looked again at the bruise. It was a large purple patch, though some parts were significantly worse than others.
“Looks like repeated blows” I said, hoping that I’d got it right this time.
“That’s right Al. I’d say that our murderer spent a great deal of time hitting the victim on the head, with something rather small.”
“Like what?” I asked.
“Look in the cutlery drawer” he replied.
I pulled open the drawer. A slightly musty smell rose from it. I peered inside to see that it was almost empty. There was a knife, a fork, a tin opener, and a bread knife. Nothing else.
“What do you make of that?” Asked Mac.
“He didn’t often have company.” I replied, clutching at straws.
“Perhaps, but that’s not what I’m after.”
I opened one of the cupboards to see tins of baked bean, soup, and spaghetti.
“He wasn’t a big cook?” I said.
“What don’t you see?” He asked.
I looked in the drawer again, and it hit me.
“There is no spoon!”
“That’s right.” Replied Mac. "I looked in there earlier. It looks like our murderer bashed poor Charles head in with the spoon, and took the weapon with him."
"But what kind of man uses a spoon as a murder weapon?"
"Well Al, it seems like it was a torture. It was planned too."
"How do you know?"
"Look at the rope he's tied with. Hardly the kind you'd leave lying around the house."
"There's no sign of any struggle either." I said, "So it could be someone that Charles knew"
"It's likely. I've got some of our boys asking questions along the hall, see if he had any enemies, or strange visitors."
"But" Continued Mac "It could just as easily be some wacko playing a sick game. He could have made the place look tidy again, he could have kept the old guy quiet until he was ready to tap away at his skull until it finished Charles off. We have to keep our options open."
"So how long would it take to kill someone with repeated taps to the head with a spoon?" I asked, puzzled by the whole thing.
"Well once we've finished up here the body will go down to the morgue, and Doc Hapsby will take a look at it. He'll have some answers for us."
"Are you positive that this man was killed with a spoon?" I asked, still a little shocked that anyone would even have the patience to do such a thing.
"Yes, one hundred percent." Replied Mac. "The size of the small bruises that make up the larger one, they're the right size for a spoon. Also, you didn't see the mark on the back of his hand."
"What mark?"
Mac grabbed Charles right hand, and turned it round so I could see the back. A patch of skin had been burnt badly, it was indented in an oval shape.
"Was that done with a spoon too?" I asked, already knowing the answer.
"Yes. Heated to an incredibly high temperature, then held on the back of the hand until it had burnt right in. Probably done after death too, as nobody heard a scream."
"Jesus Christ!" I exclaimed
"I've seen worse in my time. Anyway, that's not a great deal more we can do here now. The body's going down to the morgue later, and we'll know more then. The other officers might find us a lead to follow too. Right now I suggest we go for breakfast. Sound good to you?"
"Sure Mac. That sounds good to me."
Mac was quiet at breakfast. I tried to ask him a few questions, but he said that he liked to eat breakfast in peace, give his brain a bit of a rest, and who was I not to respect his wishes?
It wasn't until we got to the morgue and got some fresh information from Doc Hapsby that he was willing to talk again.
;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;
Story abandoned. No easy way of winding it up, under time limit I’d have no time to give it a polish. I didn’t really know where the story was going either. Still it was a change in theme for me, so worth trying.