IN BLOG WE TRUST - Part 2

Wyatt -
Half a mile away, Detective Gordon walked onto the crime scene with a spring in his step. Although he despised day work, he got over it quickly. Today was his first day working in the Homicide Division, and nothing – not even his first corpse – was going to get him down.

“What do we have?” Gordon asked.

“White male, approximately thirty-five years old, shot twice in the chest with a large caliber pistol,” the patrol officer replied. “We got the call from police radio, but there doesn’t seem to be any witnesses forthcoming. Go figure.”

“Swell,” Gordon said. “Is there any ID on the body?”

“Yeah,” the officer replied. “And you’re not going to like it. This poor sap worked for The Company.”

“Damnit,” Gordon muttered.
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Jim@bRight&Early -
Winchell tried to lose himself in mind-numbing tasks that allowed him time to think. A good plan in theory, but instead of concentrating on the choices that were bearing down on him his mind found more interesting rabbit trails to wander on.

He was making a useless mental list of all of the jobs he held since high school while the computer in front of him crunched data, but otherwise ignored him. Suddenly he became aware that his mind had stopped concentrating on even the things he wasn't getting paid to think about. He was even more aware of the reason why.

Jackie's perfume announced her arrival moments before her head appeared at the cubicle's opening. It wasn't an overpowering scent, but to Winchell it was as powerful a Pavlov's bell.

"Winch", Jackie asked, "have you seen Mikal? He was supposed to join me on a conference call fifteen minutes ago."

"No, I haven't," Winchell replied with just a hint of jealousy. "In fact, now that I think about it, I don't remember seeing 'The Beast' in it's parking spot."
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Captain America -
Amalee pulled the zipper of the black leather boot closed just shy of the back of her knee. She quickly finished changing and dropped the Walther pistol into a clear plastic bag. As she did so she made a mental note of where she would dispose of the weapon. In another minute the curvaceous red head would leave the apartment for good, no trace of her ever being there.
For the other residents of the massive apartment block there would be barely a memory of her and her gentleman caller. She would be just another fleeting face among the thousands who lived in the one hundred and fifty story building.

Her assignment completed she wanted to collect her payment without delay. She knew the resistance was often short on funds and hanging around waiting to get paid with an outlaw weapon wasn't her idea of fun. She slipped another 9mm into her thigh holster(a girl couldn't be too careful) grabbed her bag and looked around one final time. Not a trace.
As the door of the safe apartment closed behind her she could hear the helicopter in the distance. Right on time.

There is a saying in the world of forensics: The criminal always leaves a part of them self behind.
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Go To Part 3 . . . . .