SEASON ONE.
BOOK ONE.
Hawkins, Indiana. A place where hopes and dreams seemed to have skipped and went a few towns over. It were a small town of perfect suburban neighbourhoods and a no crime rate. At least, that was before November 6th, 19...
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When Jim had gotten the call from Flo to head straight to Benny's, Mary had expected a robbery — or something less extreme. However, when she and her father arrived on the scene, she had been horrified to discover it wasn't a robbery. Or anything less extreme.
Benny was dead. Hunched over one of the tables, a pistol in his hand, finger on the trigger and a hole in his head.
Jim had insisted Mary should in fact wait in the car and the teenager had almost obliged without argument. But after a moment, she realised that if one day, she got to follow her father's footsteps and become Chief, she'd have to be used to cases such as suicide. And so she stayed and eventually, Jim had allowed it.
He and the other officers inspected the scene, along with Mary who's curious brown gaze took in every detail. Mary was a different kind of smart from the likes of Nancy Wheeler and Barbara Holland. Whereas the other girl would pass her exams with straight A's, Mary was a little more behind on D's and C's.
But it were only because of her inability to truly focus, especially on boring school work she couldn't care less about. But she enjoyed things that made her think, truly think. Where she could sit up late at night in excitement tying to figure out a puzzle.
That's why Mary loved the idea of being a cop, figuring out mysteries, it's what she loved. Even as a kid, chasing after her father with a plastic gun in her holster, Jim's Chief hat on her head and a certain drive for fighting crime.
Jim was speaking to Callahan whilst the girl inspected Benny's body, a lump resting in her throat as her eyes scanned the setting in front of her; dried blood around the bullet hole in Benny's head, slightly damper lighter blood in a puddle on the table, some of it dripping off the side and onto the polished floors.
Mary crinkled her nose as she stood up, her hands settling on her hips, "This doesn't make sense," She spoke up quietly but loud enough for her father to pick up on her words and he and Callahan glanced over at her, "You're sure it's suicide?" She asked, looking over her shoulder and to her dad.
Jim took a moment to reply and that was enough for Mary to know he wasn't a hundred percent sure on Benny's death being a suicide, "The guns in his hand, Mary — there's no sign of a struggle." He attempted, but his heart wasn't fully in it and Mary looked back down to Benny's pale body.
"Theoretically — and this is all theoretically," She started, holding up her index finger as she began to pace, "Benny could have been murdered. We could say it was by anyone, but I think, theoretically, whoever did could be experienced. The bullet struck his temple, where most suicide shots hit. And look around us, there's no blood splatters — a bullet hitting bone and blood from the range, shouldn't it cause a bit of a mess? Other than the blood on the table, of course."
