body outline

MLMM Saturday Mix Lucky Dip — Small-Time Hood

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Detective Fred Morrisey and his partner, Detective Ronald Hayden, pulled up to the crime scene in Morrisey’s car. “I’m going to touch base with the ME, Ron,” Morrisey said. “Go talk to the officer who was first on the scene and see what he can tell you.”

“You got it, Fred,” Hayden said. Both men got out of the car and headed off in different directions.

Morrisey found the medical examiner inside the tent the crime scene team had erected over the location of the victim’s body. “What can you tell me, Doc?” Morrisey asked the ME.

“Blunt force trauma to the back of the head,” the ME said. “Time of death was around mid-morning, say 10:30 or 11:00. Stomach contents shows he had a bacon and eggs breakfast not long before he was murdered.”

“Any personal effects with the body?”

“I gave all that to the office on the scene who bagged it,” the ME said. “But strangely enough, there were two passports, one U.S., and one from the UK. And let me see. Oh yes, one aerosol inhaler for asthma, one child’s crayon, and a 35 mm film strip with maybe half a dozen frames on it. Anyway, I should have a full postmortem report for you but the end of the day.”

“Okay, thanks, Doc,” Morrisey said as Ron Hayden came walking up.

“So, our vic is a small-time hood,” Ron said, “But what may have gotten him killed was what was on this film strip.” He handed it over to Fred, who held it up to the light.

“Jesus,” Morrisey said.

Written for the Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Saturday Mix Lucky Dip, where the story cubes are car, egg and bacon, crayon, tent, aerosol, passports, body outline, and film strip.

MLMM Saturday Mix Lucky Dip — The Mystery of the Gamer’s Murder

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Detective Fred Morrisey and his partner, Detective Ron Hayden, looked down at the body outline drawn out on the floor. Morrisey then looked at the uniformed officer who had arrived first at the scene. “You interviewed the family members, right?”

“Yes sir,” the officer said. “Jim and Margaret Nichols. The deceased was their 30-year-old son, Jeff, and they were both asleep when the crime occurred. The ME estimated that death was between 11:00 last night and 1:00 this morning. The deceased’s father found his son’s body on the floor of their recreation room. It was around 6:30 this morning when he came down to fix himself some coffee and breakfast.”

“And neither he nor his wife heard anything last night?” Detective Hayden asked the officer.

“No,” he said. “They were both asleep and didn’t hear a thing. And there’s no sign of a break-in. The parents are in the living room now waiting for you to interview them.”

“Thanks,” Morrisey said to the officer and the two detectives made their way into the living room to talk with the victim’s parents.

“I’m Detective Fred Morrisey and this,” Morrisey said, gesturing to his partner, “is Detective Ron Hayden. We are very sorry for your loss.”

“Some loss,” the father said. “He was a 30-year-old man-child, a video gamer who spent all day and all night sitting in front of the TV playing his stupid video games. He was a freeloader taking advantage of his mother and me.”

“Jim, please,” the mother said. She looked at me with tears in her eyes. “Jeff was a good boy. Who would do such a thing to him?”

Morrisey asked if anything was missing from the recreation room where the body was found. “Yes, the gaming controller, the PlayStation, his laptop, and a book of what he called ‘cheats’ are missing.”

“And the trophy, dear,” Margaret said. “He won that trophy at a video gaming convention of some sort. Oh my, how proud he was of that trophy.”

“Did he have any enemies that you are aware of?” Hayden asked.

“You should ask those people who sponsor that video gaming competition,” James said. “They are a cutthroat bunch of hooligans if you ask me. Jeff has a bunch of flyers and brochures up in his room. I bet one of those good-for-nothing gamers did this.” Morrisey gave Hayden a look and Hayden headed up to the victim’s bedroom.

“Was anything else taken?” Morrisey asked the parents.

“I checked,” James said. “Our passports are still here in a drawer in the desk in the corner, but Margaret noticed that an umbrella was missing from the umbrella holder next to the front door.”

“I did see a snowflake or two falling before we went to bed last night, but now it’s raining out,” Margaret said. Maybe the killer took it to keep dry after he killed our darling boy.”

Hayden came into the living room carrying half a dozen. Flyers about local gaming conventions. “Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Nichols,” Morrisey said. “You’ve been very helpful and it’s my job, along with Detective Hayden, to put together the puzzle pieces that will help us apprehend the person or persons who committed this crime.”

Written for the Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Saturday Mix Lucky Dip, where the story cubes are puzzle pieces, trophy, gaming controller, umbrella, book, passports, snowflake, and body outline.

MLMM Saturday Mix Lucky Dip — Femme Fatale

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Detective Fred Morrisey and his partner, Detective Ron Hayden, boarded the commuter train and headed to the car where the forensic pathologists was examining the body. The pathologist didn’t look up when he heard the detectives approaching. “Cause of death was a gunshot that pierced the heart. Death would have been instantaneous. Time of death was between one and two hours ago,” Dr. Winslow said.

The setting sun was casting long shadows across the interior of the train and Morrisey knew that Winslow would be eager to get the body back to his lab so he could start the post-mortem first thing in the morning.

Hayden opened up a backpack that was on the floor next to the body. Inside was a laptop, a book, and some files. There were also some business cards. “He was a CPA,” Hayden said. “Probably heading home from his office in midtown.”

“His name is James Townsend and he lived in Montclair. He was 44,” Morrisey said, the victim’s wallet in his hand. “Robbery wasn’t a motive. He has a couple of hundred bucks and all of his credit cards still in it and a Rolex watch is on his wrist.”

“Witnesses?” Hayden asked Dr. Winslow, who nodded his head to just outside the train. Hayden went out to talk to the uniformed officer who was first on the scene. Most witnesses had scattered after the shooting and before the cops arrived, so there was not much to be gained from interviews. Meanwhile, Morrisey was still with Dr. Winslow, who was just finishing up his preliminary examination. Morrisey moved closer to the body. He started sniffing.

Dr. Winslow noticed and told Morrisey he didn’t recognize the scent of the deceased’s aftershave. “It’s not aftershave,” Morrisey said. “It’s an expensive perfume, Louis Vuitton Symphony. My ex-wife used to wear it and I’ll never forget its citrusy-ginger scent.”

The next day

Detective Hayden rang the doorbell at the stately home in Montclair. A stunningly beautiful woman who was wearing a headset answered the door and the two detectives held out their badges. “I’m sorry, I have to get off the phone,” she said into the mouthpiece. “The police are here.” The woman removed her headset and opened the door wider, inviting the two men inside.

“Please have a seat in the living room. Can I get you anything?” she asked cordially.

“Do you own a handgun, Ms. Townsend?” Morrisey asked.

“Please call me Tiffany, like the jewelry store. My husband did,” she responded. “He kept it in his safe in his home office. I’ll get it for you.”

“We’ll come with you, Ms. Townsend,” Morrisey said. As they headed to the office, Morrisey walked close enough to the woman to get a whiff of her citrusy perfume. When they got to the office, Tiffany open up the safe, pulled out the gun box and handed it to Morrisey. The small key was in the box’s lock.

“Does anyone else other than you know the combination to the safe?” he asked her while giving the gun box to Hayden, who, wearing gloves, took it out and smelled the barrel. He then nodded at Morrisey.

The woman admitted that only she and her deceased husband knew the safe’s combination. Morrisey took out a pair of handcuffs. “Are those necessary?” Tiffany said. “I’ll go with you, but that cheating bastard deserved what he got. He was going to divorce me and marry some mousy, glasses-wearing number-cruncher at his accounting firm. I mean look at me, detective,” she said, doing a slow, sensuous twirl. “I’m gorgeous.”

“Well, Ms. Townsend, there’s no accounting for taste, is there?” Morrisey said, “in people or in perfume.”

Later, back at the station, Hayden said to Morrisey, “That was quick and clean. Not like last month’s chainsaw murders case.”

Written for the Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Saturday Mix Lucky Dip, where the story cubes are sun, chainsaw, headset, handcuffs, body outline, laptop, perfume, and tram/train