Scavenger Hunt
by VirginiaR
Description: An FBI Agent and a Homicide Detective -- one male, one female -- are thrown together to find the missing clues in murder investigation.
Rated: PG -- it is a murder mystery, so some references to blood and murder.
***
The detective watched the Chief’s eyes glanced up at her and then over to the side of the room after she tapped on the glass of his office door. “Come in, Jones.”
Upon entering, Jones realized the Chief wasn’t alone in his office. A polite well-groomed man in a dark suit stood up as soon as she spotted him. “You beeped, Sir,” she stated, ignoring the stranger. Suits could only mean one thing.
“Jones, this is Agent MacEntosh from the FBI. He’s been asked to assist you in your re-inspection of the murder scene.”
Her lips pressed together as she shook hands with the newcomer. “Agent.”
“Detective.”
“As I was explaining to MacEntosh before you came in, Jones, the defense team of William Tanlowe has requested permission to inspect the victim’s apartment. We went over Lady Jane’s place with a fine tooth comb and found nothing to incriminate Tanlowe. All we have is the testimony of one witness, Jane’s neighbor, claiming she saw the two of them enter Jane’s apartment that night,” said the Chief, his finger tips pressed together as he leaned back in his chair. “Tanlowe’s lawyers wants the case dismissed as he states that Jane’s neighbor is old and messes up days in her mind. The prosecutor’s office is afraid that the judge will agree if we don’t find more evidence. Your assignment is go over that apartment again as I’m curious why the defense team would want to see it. They must know of something that will incriminate Mr. Tanlowe and I want you two to find it, before we allow Tanlowe’s team in.”
“The file clearly states that both hair and fingerprints of the suspect were also found,” the agent mentioned.
“Yes, MacEntosh, but neither was with the blood evidence,” replied the Chief. “And as Tanlowe was Jane’s boyfriend that evidence won’t be considered relevant to the night in question. Jones will fill you in on all the details. She’s new, but she’s good.”
Jones’s pressed lips turned white. “Anything else, Sir?”
The Chief waved them out of his office as he picked up the telephone.
After the FBI Agent shut the door behind them, he turned and smiled at his temporary partner. “I seemed to have missed your first name, Detective Jones. I’m Cody.”
“Jones. Why were you brought in? I thought the Feds were only interested in criminals before they were locked up.”
“Normally, but Susan Jane was the daughter of a big campaign contributor of some Senator. So, to keep the money man happy the Senator pulled a few strings and bingo, yours truly gets to go on a field trip.” Agent MacEntosh shrugged his shoulders. This must have happened to him before.
Reluctantly Jones let her dimples show. “Sorry, this must be as frustrating for you as me.” She picked up her briefcase and suit jacket from her desk. “Ready?”
Agent MacEntosh, gear already in hand, followed her through the Homicide Department doors. “Perhaps, we should start again. I’m Cody MacEntosh.”
“Are you always this repetitive with every detective you meet?”
“Only the blonde ones,” he said, offer her a charming grin.
Jones turned and flattened him against the wall, her briefcase between them, her index finger in his face. “Look. Don’t go thinking I’m some affirmative action case. I’m not some dingbat whose blonde hair and unscarred face gets her put into fishnet stockings every time a hooker is killed in this town. I’ve paid my dues. I’ve got my B.A. in Criminal Science and my masters in Criminal Psychology. I’m here to work, not as some plaything for your field trip. Understand?”
He nodded.
“I shouldn’t have to explain myself because I’m a woman. Now, pick up your brushes and let’s go.”
MacEntosh straightened his suit and picked up his briefcase. “I thought your Chief said you were new.”
Jones sneered. “I’m usually not searching for physical evidence. Criminal Psychologists aren’t known for getting our fingers dirty. But the head of Evidence is on vacation and others in his department are dingbats. Chief wanted someone who hadn’t searched the apartment to do the hunting.”
“Ah, another reason I got called in. Evidence is my specialty.”
They had made it to the parking lot. “I’ll drive.” Jones opened the trunk to her Jetta and dropped in her briefcase.
“As you wish.” MacEntosh followed suit, before sitting down in the passenger seat of the car.
“You don’t need anything from your sedan?” she asked, surprised.
“I travel light.”
“Good. I travel fast, so buckle up.” She turned the key, switched gears, and had backed up before he could fasten his belt. “Susan Jane was found in her apartment bludgeoned in the back of her head by a flat object with sharp corners. No murder weapon had been found. Her body had been positioned to look like she had fallen and bumped her head on the corner of the coffee table. But the angle of the blow was such that if the coffee table had really been the weapon, the murderer would have had to pick up the table and hit her while she was standing up or at least sitting.”
“Therefore, implausible.” He nodded.
“That and the fact that the blood on the carpet had been smeared as if the body had been dragged closer to the coffee table. This was not a professional murderer. William Tanlowe is a computer programmer and as such not usually physically violent. Someone who grew up with computers and technology is more likely to shoot someone or send a bomb rather than stab or strangle them as it distances him from the action.”
“But you said that Susan Jane had died from a blow to the head.”
“Precisely. Not usual at all for William Tanlowe’s profile. But when push comes to shove and we don’t have gun, we all resort to physical violence.” Jones shifted into a higher gear as she zipped through traffic. “What I am saying is that William Tanlowe did not plan to murder Susan Jane.”
“You’re one-hundred percent sure it was Tanlowe, aren’t you? Even though he doesn’t stay within your profile.”
“Susan Jane was well liked and had no known enemies. Sure, she was the daughter of some millionaire, but she didn’t act like it. She had friends from all social levels and had rejected offers of any financial help from her father so that she could make it own. She wasn’t rich in her own right. As you will see, she didn’t have art objects or expensive toys - well, except the computer that Tanlowe gave her, which she only used to e-mail her friends. Her apartment looks like any single middle-class woman’s. There was no forced entry and her neighbor saw the two of them enter Jane’s apartment that night. According to friends, Jane was planning on breaking up with Tanlowe.” Jones shrugged and glanced over at him. “Who else?”
“Maybe some enemy of her father’s?” MacEntosh guessed.
“You read too many courtroom novels,” Jones replied with a shake of her head. “No, Tanlowe’s our man. He had motive, access, and no alibi. He said he was working at home that night, so it’s his word against the neighbor’s that he and the victim were together that night. And as the neighbor is the only real conclusive evidence we have, if we don’t find more proof, the case will probably be dismissed.”
“And he’s your only suspect.”
Reading between her lines, he had still guessed correctly. Jones glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “Detective Porter.”
MacEntosh’s brows came together. “Who’s Porter?”
“I am. Detective Jones Porter. Jones is my first name. I didn’t correct you earlier.”
“Oh,” he murmured, but the smile returned to his lips. It slid off as he opened his mouth to speak.
Jones interrupted. “Don’t ask.”
He nodded. “Gotcha.”
“We’re here.” She pulled the Jetta into a parking space in front of a clean, comfortable looking apartment building. Not cheap, not expensive. “I’ll let you into the apartment, but I want to speak to her neighbor again before I start. That okay with you?”
“Sure. I’m not good with people.”
“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” She let him see her dimples again as she got out of the car.
At Susan Jane’s apartment, Jones unlocked the door and then pocketed the key. “Don’t let anyone in but me. And don’t forget to wear your gloves.”
MacEntosh held up his latex covered hands and grinned. “Always prepared.”
“A real Boy Scout.” She started to shut the door after him, but turned around to watch him look around the room instead. “You’re enjoying this too much.”
“Hey, I’m on a field trip.” MacEntosh waved her out of the room. “Now, go analyze your witness. And we’ll see who comes up with the vital evidence.”
She raised a brow. “Is that a bet?”
“This is what I do.”
“And the winner gets...?”
“The loser to pay for dinner.”
“We’re having dinner?” She looked skeptical.
MacEntosh looked pleased with himself. “Thanks, I’d love to.”
“That’s sexual harassment.”
“I won’t press charges, Detective Porter.”
“Jones.”
MacEntosh extended his hand. “Cody. Nice meet you, Jones.”
Jones only glanced at his hand before shutting the door, without responding. Two steps down the hall, she heard the door open and the snap of latex gloves.
“I believe I’ll join you on your interview after all. Hate to get a head start on all that evidence. You’d say I had an unfair advantage and that the bet was voided.”
“So sure of yourself, are you?” Jones asked.
“And, to think, I’m the one bad with people.” He held out his hand and she gave him the key. “Wouldn’t want anyone coming in and stealing my brushes.”
“I thought you Feds were the strong, silent type, Agent MacEntosh.”
He was in high spirits. “Cody.”
She rolled her eyes and stopped at a door two apartments down the hall.
“Allow me.” He knocked.
No one answered.
“Your star witness is away, it seems.”
Jones ignored him and rang the doorbell, which was immediately answered by a petite silver haired woman in a flower print smock dress. “Detective Porter, how nice to see you again,” the woman shouted.
“Not away from home.” Jones rang the doorbell again and instead of sound a bright red light filled the room. “Just hard of hearing.”
MacEntosh’s brows raised. “This is your star witness?”
“MRS. FINKLESTEIN, LET ME INTRODUCE AGENT CODY MACENTOSH,” Jones spoke loudly leaning towards the woman.
“Nice to meet you. Nice to meet you, young man.” Mrs. Finklestein gladly shook his hand. “It’s nice to see Detective Porter with such a handsome young man.”
MacEntosh’s grin broadened and he turned to Jones, who again was ignoring him, to see her pulling out a legal size note pad from her briefcase.
“Would you like a cup of coffee? What was your name again? My hearing isn’t what it used to be.”
Before he could respond. Jones held up her notepad, where she had written, This is Agent Cody MacEntosh (spelled correctly, he noted) from the F.B.I.
“Oh, my. Oh, my. The FBI,” Mrs. Finklestein bubbled. “Was Susan that important?”
“EVERYONE IS IMPORTANT TO THE FBI, MRS. FINKLESTEIN.”
“Of course, of course. What a nice strong voice you have, Agent MacEntosh. Was that a yes for coffee?”
“THAT WOULD BE NICE,” he replied as Jones held up her notepad with the words, No, thank you. They turned and glared at each other.
“That’s right, I forgot Detective Porter doesn’t drink coffee. One cup of coffee coming right up,” Mrs. Finklestein said racing into her kitchen.
“Don’t they teach you manners at the FBI? If we want coffee, we can go out for it later.”
“Jones.” He smiled indulgently. “You obviously forgot I flew in from Washington, D.C. this morning and domestic flights don’t give out more than peanuts nowadays.”
“Poor, baby,” she cooed as Mrs. Finklestein returned. “Don’t say, I didn’t warn you.”
MacEntosh smiled as he raised his cup to his lips. A moment later an unnatural, frozen smile remained as he set it back on the saucer.
“It’s instant,” Jones whispered.
“Tell me something, I don’t know.”
Mrs. Finklestein, I wanted to talk to you again about the night that Susan Jane died. Jones wrote on her notepad.
“Such a sad night.” The woman sighed. “I felt the vibration of the elevator, as it’s right next to my sofa, and I went to see who it was. It was Susan and that boyfriend of hers.”
“WILLIAM TANLOWE?” MacEntosh asked twice. The second time more loudly than the first.
“There was no one else. Susan was a good girl.”
MacEntosh nodded his head as Jones scribbled on her notepad.
What did this man with Susan look like?
“As I told Agent MacEntosh it was that computer man that Susan dated.”
How was he dressed?
“Oh.” Mrs. Finklestein took a sip of her coffee. “Let’s see. The night lighting had come on so the hallway was darker than usual. Beige... no, khaki pants. One of those horrible thin cotton plaid shirts that those scientists wear. Blue, green, and yellow. He was holding a big briefcase of sorts.”
“A HARD BRIEFCASE LIKE DETECTIVE PORTER’S?” MacEntosh grinned.
“Oh, no. Very soft. Canvas, I think.”
The smile slipped from MacEntosh’s lips.
Had they come in together?
“Yes, it looked that way to me.”
Were they arguing?
“I couldn’t hear them from my door...” Mrs. Finklestein’s voice faded and she shrugged her shoulders. “But it didn’t look that way.”
“WERE THEY CARRYING ANYTHING ELSE?”
“Yes, Susan had some books. She dropped one and her boyfriend picked it up for her. That’s when I went back into my apartment.”
“DID YOU SEE THEM BOTH ENTER THE APARTMENT, MRS. FINKLESTEIN?”
How many books was she carrying? In her arms or in a bag?
The two law enforcement personnel glanced at each other with sour expressions.
“Yes, didn’t I say that? They entered the apartment and I returned to mine. It reminded me so much of when Mr. Finklestein proposed to me. Got down on his knee...” Mrs. Finklestein bubbled with giggles again.
Jones tapped her notepad. How many books was she carrying? In her arms or in a bag?
“I’m not quite sure. Two or three? Oh, my. Does it really matter? Let’s see, they were in a plastic bag, which tore and the books spilled on the ground.”
“DID YOU FEEL THE VIBRATION WHEN THE ELEVATOR LEFT?”
“Oh, no. It was late and I went to bed after that, so I wasn’t sitting on the couch when he left.”
Thank you, Mrs. Finklestein. Jones placed the notepad back in her briefcase.
“I hope I was able to help you this time, my dear. It’s so nice that you have a handsome partner.”
Jones placed a smile to her lips and nodded her good-byes. MacEntosh shook the woman’s hand. “THANK YOU.”
Outside of Susan Jane’s door, Jones threw MacEntosh a glance. “That is my star witness.”
MacEntosh leaned against the wall. “The worst coffee.”
“I warned you. Did you learn anything?”
“We should check his Internet subscriber to see from where did his e-mailing that night,” he suggested.
“No luck. We already looked into the laptop computer angle. We’ve examined it and it had no traces of blood, hair, or anything to do with Susan Jane. It’s clean. And all his Internet access had been from his own home that night.”
“Damn.” His brows came together. “It’s time to search the nooks and crannies. I can see why your Chief is worried.”
“Mrs. Finklestein has a great memory. The color of his shirt even. You believed her.”
“But she can’t hear a damn thing. The D.A. must be worried that the jurors will think no hearing, no brains, no memory.”
Jones sighed and opened the door. “That’s why we’re here. Latex gloves?”
MacEntosh reached into his pockets and removed his gloves. “And now for the fun stuff.” The boyish grin returned to his face.
“Be serious, MacEntosh.”
“Cody.”
“I’ll take the bedroom and you can have the living room and then we’ll switch.”
“Ah, you do like me, Jones. You’re giving me the murder scene first.”
“I’m just giving you a head start,” she replied and headed into the bedroom.
***
MacEntosh examined the evidence file, so Jones wouldn’t catch him with another blunder like with the laptop. Then the room, the coffee table, blood stain, couch, entertainment unit, stereo, computer, music collection, bookshelf and fish tank, where he fed the fish. Nothing. Everything he found was also in the evidence file.
He poked his head into the bedroom and found Jones sitting on the bed reading the back of a pink hardcover novel. She blushed and dropped the book onto the bed.
“Taking that as evidence or pleasure?”
She cleared her throat. “I don’t read romance.”
“Really? Didn’t look that way to me.”
“Ready to switch?” Jones asked, leaving the book on the bed.
“Find anything?”
“Well, there was this annoying FBI Agent singing along to the...” Jones started to say.
He interrupted. “I’m ready.”
***
Jones ignored the scene of the crime and went straight to the computer desk. She turned on the computer and looked in every drawer of the desk. Nothing. Scanning the bookshelves, she saw more romance, general fiction, and self-help. She pressed her lips together and went to check under the couch. Under the entertainment unit. The kitchen garbage, which was missing. Yes, it had been taken with the first evidence. She checked the evidence file, which MacEntosh left conveniently on the coffee table, and smiled. Gotcha, Tanlowe.
She stuck her head into the bedroom. The book was still sitting on the bed, untouched, as she knew it would be. “Done?”
MacEntosh nodded. “Find what you were looking for?”
“As a matter of fact I didn’t.” Jones threw him one of those big grins he had been giving her all afternoon.
“I lost, didn’t I?”
“I like Italian.”
“Pizza, all right, Jones?”
“Love it.”
“You’re not going to tell me.”
“We’ll see.” That big grin still on her face. She picked up the book and dropped it into a plastic bag. “Evidence.”
“Yeah, right.” The sarcasm dripped from his words.
***
They dropped off the zip-locked bag with the book at the station and then Jones drove MacEntosh over to a strip mall. She dropped him off at the pizzeria. “Get us a table, while I park.”
From his table at the pizzeria, MacEntosh saw Jones park the Jetta and then walk in the opposite direction towards the bookstore. His eyes opened wide and his hand hit the table. “The book!” He ran out of the restaurant and across the parking lot to the bookstore.
Entering the store he saw her showing something to the cashiers behind the counter. One of the cashiers nodded and walked with her to the Computer Books section — MacEntosh followed, fuming. She turned at that instant, holding a thick hardcover computer manual and gave him a dazzling smile, dimples and all. “What do you think, MacEntosh? Could you kill someone with this book?”
“Yeah, I probably could.” Neither his eyes nor lips were smiling this time.
“You’d be amazed what you can find in the pages of romance novels these days.” Jones held up a register receipt inside a plastic baggie. “Or on the back cover.” She handed the salesclerk the computer book and sauntered off down the row.
MacEntosh stomped off towards the exit. He hesitated at a display of bright pink hard cover books that looked exactly like the one he had seen Jones reading on Susan Jane’s bed. He lifted one up and flipped it over:
Sally didn’t want to work with Justin, a handsome contractor — an expert in flirting as well as her field. She had worked for years to be respected in her profession. But it was only going to be this one project and then he would be gone. She didn’t care how much she would depend on him to get the job done or how well they would work together, only that he didn’t take their profession seriously, he was utterly stubborn and that every time he grinned her heart pounded in a way it never had before... or ever would again.
MacEntosh set the book back on the stack and saw Jones still standing in the computer books section. Only this time, she wasn’t looking at books or interrogating salesclerks, but staring at him. He didn’t realize how penetrating his gaze was until she blushed and started walking quickly over to the restrooms. He reached her first and, taking hold of her wrist, he pulled her closer to him.
“I like Hawaiian,” she stated, staring deeply into his eyes without her usual rebuke.
“You shock me, Detective Porter. No pepperoni or hot sausage?”
“It’s Jones, MacEntosh.” She licked her drying lips into a smile and turned towards the exit. “And right now I just want pizza.”
The End or is it just the beginning…
