The trees were catching up to the cold winds in the air, and being fed their lines that the seasons were in fact changing they changed their hues to reds and yellows which soon took flight upon the gusty air and scattered themselves through the isolated coastal town. Down the brick paved streets and in between the cars that drove by, their thin black tires clicking onto each brick. The sun was at a particularly interesting angle that sun rise and from where we stood the outline of Mr. Davis' sailboat could be seen as it rocked gently through the tides and in front of the orange globe.
That day was a beautiful enough day, children in light coats headed down the sidewalks to the bus stops. The roads weren't crowded as people piled into their cars heading towards work, and the select few retired people strolled across the shoreline hand in hand remembering yesteryear yet still in love like they had just met.
The days were good in the town, and we presumed they would stay that way. I had even assumed that when I woke up that morning and saw the sun creeping up as if pulling itself up the horizon line. I pulled on my blue sweatshirt and jeans and headed out for my morning jog down the main street and making my rounds across the beach towards the gazebo and after sitting and chatting with the old boatman heading home for a cup of coffee.
I was halfway through my Steinbeck novel and on my third cup of coffee when I got the phonecall. I picked it up glancing at the time - six thirty two - it had been an unusually late sunrise for the town, and I hadn't been expecting a phone call. I expected the worse, mother had died or my sister was in another accident or my brother in rehabilitation.
I didn't know when I answered that something much worse waited for me.
"Hello," I said brushing a strand of my long black hair out of my face.
"Mrs. Jefferson," a man asked.
I squinted a little trying to recognize the voice, but I couldn't quite piece it together.
"Yes that is me, is anything wrong," I replied.
"There has been an... accident," he said.
I gasped.
"Who is this? Is mom okay? Is everyone okay," I said instantly panicking.
"I'm sorry... I'm Lieutenant Packard," he said.
"I've quit this job Lieutenant. I can't deal with that stress anymore," I answered.
He sighed.
"You really need to come down here," he answered.
"Why Lieutenant? You said it yourself it was an accident, just pull up the victims dental records and-," I shuddered. "Please just put someone else on it."
"It's the fifth accident this month," he said.
I inhaled sharply.
"I'm beginning to think these aren't accidents," he answered.
I shut my eyes.
"We think this could have something to do with-," he said.
A tear snuck between my closed eyes.
"I'll get my coat," I answered hanging up the phone.
So much for retirement...
***********
I'll never miss the sterile offices that made up the police department. From the outside the interesting mediterranean stylized buildings seemed to hold promise enough. But as soon as you entered the large gothic doors and stepped into the cramped entryway you knew that your first impression had been wrong.
I walked through the doors, a male officer watched me pass with a glare in his eyes. I had probably asked for it - a female forensic pathologist in a small old fashioned town where women stayed home, not to mention the fact that I was part of a small population of people who weren't white. I had encountered racism in my job, but the majority of people were level minded enough to accept the fact that I was the most qualified person for the job.
At least that was what I told myself.
The metal doors at the far end of the briefing room led to a set of cramped stairs. I took them in stride, the air got colder as I headed further down and I pulled my sweatshirt tight across my lean body. The familiar white door with the cracked paint told me I was home. I pushed it open and walked into the morgue. A metal stretcher lay in the middle of the room with a side table holding dissection tools - but I had no desire to dissect the body. There was no need for me to do an autopsy - not pro bono.
The lieutenant walked towards me greeting me with an awkward smile.
"Who is it," I asked.
He pulled down the metal blanket that covered the torso. I winced looking away, the victim had been in some horrible accident, that was certain.
"What happened," I asked motioning for him to cover the head.
"Maureen Despot, we found her today in the woods looking like that. Her mother said she was operating the mulcher in their back yard when they heard her scream. She found her like that," he said.
I gagged.
"How old was she," I said trying to keep composure.
"Twenty one," he answered.
"Intoxicated," I replied.
"She has an intolerance to alcohol, she couldn't drink and the test proved that she had no alcohol or drugs in her system."
I looked at the corpse then back at him.
"Despot? Like the farmers," I asked.
"Yeah, you've heard of them," he replied.
"Who hasn't? When I was little my mom used to take my brothers and I pumpkin picking at their farm. They sold mulch didn't they," I asked.
He nodded.
"It was her way of paying room and board, she didn't want to stay at the dorms so her parents made her work. She'd done it for the past two years," he said.
"Then it's no accident," I said.
"How do you figure," he asked.
"She was raised on a farm, she worked using that machine, it's a fact that if something is dangerous you don't stick your head in it," I said.
"She could have slipped," he said.
"No moist weather, the leaves don't pose any hazard. This," I pointed at the corpse "is far from an accdient."
He opened his mouth, with a grin to commend me but I didn't want to be awarded.
"What happened to the other accident victims," I said.
"Cameron Holly, plummeted face first out her bedroom window into her empty pool. She was captain of the swim team - no drugs in her body. Madison Adams and Lashandra Adams were both award winning gymnasts, plummeted from a faulty balance beam. Lashandra's neck broke, and Madison was impaled by a falling piece. The last victim before this was Jackie North of the North Winery, she died of alcohol poisoning," he said.
"Do you notice the irony," I replied.
"Yeah we picked up on it. A swimmer dies in a pool, gymnasts die on a balance beam, Jackie North alcohol poisoning," he said.
I thought about it some more.
"They were all from prestigious families. The biggest ones in the town, do you know of any other families with daughters," I asked.
"None offhand," he said.
I sighed.
"You can't carry that weight around with you forever Carla," he said.
I closed my eyes.
"You have your chance now, take it. Sign onto this case - you've already gotten everything we know from it within minutes, you could solve this," he said.
I looked at him my eyes were watery.
"I never want to do another one of these after this Lieutenant," I said.
He smiled and I smirked. I was on the case, but with no where to start. I searched for hours through police reports and must admit, Steinbeck may be compelling but the truth will always hold my interest. The circumstances surrounding the murders, the scene of the crime... I had to find out more. But most of the scenes were weeks old and had been fixed up - what evidence would be left?
The kind of evidence no one can hide I remembered.
I pulled my name plate out from the forensic file cabinet and set it on my desk, with mixed reactions from the other officers. It didn't matter though, I wouldn't be there for much longer. I brought up a map and printed it out. I got in my old jalopie and headed out for the Despot Farm.
(to be continued) How it changed my life:I intend to finish this unlike so many of my other stories. I have a storyline written out for it. The next chapter will have a lot of exposition but she will find out some very grim information about some of the murders. You will also learn more about Carla Jefferson and the weight she carries... I hope you enjoy it. Please comment =-bootz-=
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