Detective James “Jim” Swinger and his partner Douglas Chambers pulled up to the Sinclair Arms Apartment building just as it began to rain. “Guess those weather boys were right, Doug.” Jim said as he parked their black Ford sedan. The local weather forecast had been predicting several days of rainfall was coming. “Should have brought our oars just in case.” Douglas quipped back.
The two walked into the lobby of the apartment building and saw a patrol officer waiting for them. “Good morning Detectives, if you wanna follow me. The scenes up on the third floor and the elevator is busted apparently.” He pointed to the handwritten “Out of Order” sign hanging off the elevator door.
“Just my damn luck, with my gout flaring up to boot!” Jim grumbled. Douglas could see he was gonna be in a mood, to distract him he brought up one of his partners favorite subjects. “Hey Jim lemme ask you something. Why do we come to so many cases of Men killing Women?”
Douglas could see Jim's face light up as he took the bait and forgot about his gout entirely. “Original sin. Life was grand in the garden until that Women showed up. Our boy Adam was living a great life but as soon as she got there she had to eat that god damned apple! Ever since then Men sometimes just get their goat up and do what old Adam should have done. Don't make it right, just one of them facts of life. Keeps me and you working though.” For as good as a cop as Jim Chambers was he was lousy in marriage. He had just finalized his fourth divorce in fifteen year.
The distraction worked as Douglas had planned and before Jim's soapbox was complete they were standing outside the crime scene. Looking into the studio apartment Douglas was struck with how plain it was inside. Walking through the Sinclair Arms he was inundated with the art décor splendor, it was clear this building was built before the stock market crash all those years ago. The inside of the studio was completely different. A simple bed, a plain wooden table, and an old record player in the corner. Doing a quick calculation in his head, Douglas figured everything around the room could be purchased for under fifty dollars anywhere in the City.
There was only one aspect of the two hundred square foot studio that drew your attention. The plain white sheets that covered the bed were stained with the eerie dried sanguine fluid of the woman. Her hair was blonde, her body thin and willowy. She looked like a million girls in a hundred cities across America, except for the bruises and cuts that covered almost every inch of her body.
“Jesus Christ on a cracker. She just do fifteen rounds at the Garden?” Jim's elegant words stitching a perfect picture. The two of them walked up as the crime scene techs were diligently taking pictures of everything. “Morning Jim, morning Doug.” The Sargent greeted them.
“Morning Mac, what you got for us?” Douglas asked as he pulled out his notebook.
“Dispatch got an anonymous call this morning saying that we would find a women dead in this apartment and that the perp was laying in bed with her. When we got here the call was right, that sicko was asleep like a baby and she was stiff as a board next to him. We hauled him down to the station and have been waiting for you.”
“You say he was just laying there?”
“Yeah, when we got here fell out of the bed and busted his shoulder pretty good.”
“Thanks Mac, we'll be down later to question him.” Douglas and Jim walked around the side of the bed to get a better look at the victim. They both noticed that the one side of her head was slightly caved in, exposed skull fragments mixed in with her hair. “Really got a number worked on her.” Jim said as he looked at her.
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“I'd say, something heavy was used to do that damage. Some of these bruises look pretty old too.”
“Maybe her old man had a little bit of a anger problem and used her as a heavy bag. Too scared to leave.”
Douglas took a deep breath in, “Could be but I don't notice any rings on her fingers and this apartment definitely doesn't look like its had two people living here.”
Jim did a full three sixty look around the room, “I gotta agree with you there, looks like how the house was after Doreen left.” Doreen was his second wife. Before Douglas could make it to the side of the bed to get a better look at the deceased raised voices came from the hallway.
“Who's going to pay for that door?!”
“Sir, I need to step away. This is an active crime scene and if you continue to act in this manner I will arrest you.”
“Arrest me? On what charges? Doing my JOB!?”
Both Douglas and Jim walked back out into the hall and found the officer who had shown them the way upstairs in a stand off with a small man. The small man was bent over at nearly ninety degrees and his eyes were magnified behind his Coke bottle glasses.
“What seems to be the problem here Officer?” Jim saddled his way up to the officers side, his jacket casually pushed back revealing his service revolver.
It was the bent over man who answered, “The problem is this redwood won't answer my questions!” His finger pointed at the officer. “I am the Super of this building and I have a right to know why that door is busted open.”
“You wanna know why that door is busted? That's because there has been a murder in this building. So I think you should start complying a little bit more with this officers instructions before we start thinking that the Super may have something to do with it.” Jim grabbed his belt with a satisfying grin across his face.
Douglas shook his head, in the world of good cop bad cop James Swinger took the award for Asshole cop. “ Jim let me handle this. Sir, take a walk with me. I just have a few questions for you.” Douglas herded the bent man down the hall. “Let's start with your name?”
“Art Miller.” The bent man's glasses made his eyes appear to be the size of saucers. “Been the Super here since thirty two.”
“As the Super you know everyone who lives here?”
“Of course I do! Is Ms. Fletcher in trouble?”
'Bingo!” thought Douglas, 'If only Jim wasn't such a gunslinger we may get information faster.'
“Ms. Fletcher? Is that who lives in Apartment thirty three?” Douglas asked writing down the name at the top of his notepad.
“Oh yes, Ms. Fletcher. Been here almost a year, never causes any trouble, never missed a week of rent either.” Art's lips smacking in the way that only the elderly do.
“When did you see her last?”
“Yesterday, it was rent day and she came down to the office like she always does.” Despite his age Art Miller remembered everything that pertained to his job.
“When did she stop by?”
“Well I was having my lunch, a steak sandwich and pickles, so it would have been around twelve thirty.” Once again his lips smacked almost as if he was remembering the taste of his lunch.
“Can you tell me what Ms. Fletcher looks like?” Douglas asked, his pen hovering above his notes.
“She is young, shapely. Oh she has a shock of blonde hair! Like something from a magazine. Pretty little thing she is.” Art gave Douglas as knowing look over his glasses that made his skin crawl.
He was getting good information from the Super but he wanted this conversation to be over with sooner rather than later, “Do you have any information on Ms. Fletcher down in the office? Employment information anything like that?”
Art's face became a ball of concentration for a moment, “I think I may have something or another. I'll go look for you.”
“I would appreciate that very much Mr. Miller.” Douglas turned back towards the apartment of Ms. Fletcher as Art shuffled down to the elevator.
Walking back into the room Douglas got Jim's attention, “Tenant of this apartment is a Ms. Fletcher.” Jim had found a handbag in the bedside table and had started going through the contents, “Well would you believe it? Say hello to Ms. Grace Fletcher.” He said as he held up a driver's license.
