The phone rang throughout the blackened apartment, across town from the crime scene. It was important or the caller wouldn't stop trying to get ahold of who they want. A light flicked on as the man struggled to get himself awake. He hated that the one night he was suppose to be off, never really worked out. Somehow, he would always be called to a crime scene no matter what. He just got off of a 72 hour straight on the case of a murder. And now, his cell phone was ringing for the tenth time. Turning a light on, he grabbed his cell while sitting up.
"What?" He barked. Many don't realized, you don't wake him up if he's been working overtime. No one replied, so he hung up. While turning off the light, he lied back and shut his eyes. He was about to close his eyes, when the phone rang again. This time he snapped it open. "This better be important."
"Sorry, sir. But it is." A young voice replied, sounding both scared and a little authority.
"Great. What now?" The man sat up and ran his hand over his tired face.
"We have a homicide sir."
"Okay, give me an address." Moving to the end of his bed, he grabbed his notepad from his jacket that was sitting on his chair. The young officer gave the address and hung up before he could get yelled up.
Standing up, the detective made his way down to the bathroom. Clothes littered the floor, as if he had just took everything off as he made his way down to bed. It wasn't that he was a messy person, he cleans whenever he needed it or he can, but when you're living a bachelor life, cleaning is the last thing to do. The bathroom which was just down the hallway, had the proof of only one guy lived there. Shaving cream and hair clung to the sink as the water was turned to lukewarm. Looking up at the mirror, he made a face that looked like he was disgusted with himself. Hair sticking up, a five clock shadow, and deep, black bags under his eyes from the lack of sleep. Grabbing the shaving cream, he slapped some over his tired face and did a quick shave. After washing his face, he stripped of his boxer shorts and stepped into the shower.
****
The traffic to the crime scene was unbearable for someone who needed to get there quickly. It was now morning rush hour and no matter how many side roads he took, he was still an hour behind. Everyone would be wondering where he was, which drove him nuts, because they kept calling every fifteen minutes wondering where he could be. Finally the cars parted for the lights he had turned on, and drove to just outside the police tape. There was still a lot of police and crime scene techicians on scene, when Detective Ian Fleming showed up that morning. Tape wrapped a block around, still didnt' stop the rubbernecks from looking as they made their way down the street. Reporters and cameramen had been set up the moment the call had been made. It was already a circus, as Ian had made his way over to the other detectives in his department. One detective that he knew well was Detective Derek Stille. He was just going over the notes when Fleming walked up to them, with coffees in hand.
"There you are Fleming. We thought you got lost." Stille said, laughing.
"Shut it. I got stuck in traffic." Fleming said, as he handed his friend the coffee. "Here, I'm sure this will help you since you decided to hule my ass out of bed. You know next time, let me stay at the station."
"You're right. You probably could get your beauty sleep there." Stille took a sip of his coffee and turned to the car.
"Speaking of sleeping beauty, what do we have?" Fleming walked over to the black compact car, and looked in at the driver.
The car had been parked in the middle of the street as if it was waiting for the light to change. Now the traffic around them, was being directed by a second year rookie. The four ways were on and the driver side window was down. It had been turned off before detectives had arrived. By who, no one knows. Fingerprints were taken from every inch of the car, but all fingerprints would lead to the driver. There was gun powder on the head rest and glass riddled the back seat. It all showed that the killer was behind the driver seat and shot through the windows. The gun shot had been muffled by a silencer, which would take away from witness. Fleming figured that the driver had pissed someone off to get an execution kill.
When Fleming looked at the side of the driver, he saw that the eyes were still opened and so was his mouth. The body would be in rigor that it would have to take two people to get him out. Nothing in the car to lead to why he was shot on a busy street of LA. Fleming looked down at the victim's clothing and noticed nothing out of the ordinary. He looked like he was just going to meet someone. But instead he met his fate.
"Through and through. No casing or shell. We have no trace or witness." Stille admitted.
"So basically, you have shit and you called me in?" Looking over at Stille.
"Yea, but you're the greatest detective I've had to pleasures of being friends with." Stille acted all flirty with his best friend of 15 years.
"Oh you know how to make me get all tight in the pants." A smirk came over Ian's face, as he looked back at the dead driver. "So what time was he found?"
"Around 4.45 am. The caller was a man in his mid 40s who was out for a run." Looking over his notes.
"That early for a run?"
"Yea, the guy said, he gets insomia and sometimes running helps him."
"Okay, where is he?" Ian stood up and walked around the front of the car. He looked at the driver, who was slumped over the steering wheel, where the blood had splattered.
"He's talking to Gimes."
"Who the hell let him talked to Gimes?" Fleming barked. He hated Gimes. A hot shot reporter who makes a living pissing off the victim's family with facts that weren't real. "Gimes, get your ass on the other side of that tape. Now, or you're arrested again." Ian yelled across the street to the lanky, greasy looking reporter, who smirked and saluted Ian. "I hate that little prick."
"You and me both. What do you want to do now?" Stille looked back at Ian, who shook his head. Ever since the two moved up the ranks to Homicide Detectives, Stille has been piggy backing Ian all the way up. It wasn't that Ian didn't mind, but he just wished that he didn't have all the workload that Stille gave to him. Then again, Stille was a great partner to have as back up.
"What I want you to do, is tell me everything that we got on this guy." Fleming grabbed his notepad from his inside pocket of his suit jacket.
"His name is Steven Woodden, he's 29 and a basic nobody. Works at a painting company, his boss confirmed that he was at a shift until 4.30 yesterday, but that's about it. Steven's not big on company. But likes to drink at the bar on N Western Ave. There was a fifty bucks in his wallet and his cell phone was missing. He lives on St Charles Place. Uniforms are already there." Stille said, as he looked at his own notes.
"Wasn't he in jail last month?" Ian asked.
"Yea, for distrubing the peace. I think Morton Tillen booked him. How do you remember that?" Stille sounded shocked.
"He asked me for a smoke, but he was in the pen." Ian looked at the driver again, as they were taking him out. "Do you think this is the same as the others?"
"Hell yea. Fifth guy to be plugged on a main street in the middle of the night with no leads or evidence. I really want to meet the guy who's doing it. I want to know how he's getting away with it."
"We all do. He's causing mayhem in our streets and now that people will hear this over the radio they're going to scream at us because we're not doing our jobs."
"You're right there. But we can't catch him."
"Oh yes, we can. We just need a break. Speaking of which, I'm going over to the house. I'll see you back at the station." Fleming slapped his partner on the shoulder and turned to walk over to his partner.
He knew that he had a lot of work to do and not enough sleep to go on. This was going to be a long day. Ian ran his hands over his face after getting behind the wheel and hoped that this would be an easy case to solve. Maybe it's a hit or an ex girlfriend getting revenge, but whatever it is, Ian knew that he would have to work hard to get a lead.
