Confidence Interval
Disclaimer: I didn't create and don't own Law & Order: Criminal Intent. Please refer all further questions to my attorney, whom I can totally afford (because she's imaginary, and accepts imaginary money).
Chapter 1: Confounding
A white haired portly man with a notable red tint to his stony face looked across his desk in a spacious, expensively decorated office. The nametag on his desk identified him in gold letters as "Pres. Steven Ensor." He frowned severely at the young man standing in front of him. "I don't care how much it costs, Ramiro. My company can't afford the scandal if word of this gets out. And my family can't afford the disgrace! Handle it!"
A blond, 30-something woman speed-walked through the crowded street, holding her cellphone to her ear. "I don't care what you heard. It's my problem and I'll deal with it. You just make sure the money goes through." She flipped her cellphone closed,dropped it carelessly into her bag, and entered a tall building through glass double-doors with the words "Ensor Foundation" painted across them.
She plastered on a pleasant smile as she greeted a man sitting stiffly on a couch."You must be Mr. Green. We were delighted to get your letter. Let me tell you about the kinds of charitable work we do here."
"Sir, you can't go in there!" A woman with grey hair in a tight bun followed after a short blond man in a tattered denim jacket.
"She owes me. Where is she?" He looked around a cluttered office. When he didn't see who he was looking for, he put a cigarette between his lips and sucked on it angrily.
"I'm sorry, but you have to leave," the woman said.
"Okay, but tell her if I don't hear from her in twenty-four hours, I'll be paying her a visit."
"I'm sure she's here. Where else would she be?" Steven Ensor said as he fumbled for the key to a large, upscale red brick house.
"I don't know; where do you think she would go?" asked his companion, a younger man with receding black hair and an inexpensive business suit.
"Mr. Arriola, if you're implying my daughter..."
"I'm not implying anything, Mr. Ensor, but the fact is I haven't seen her or heard from her in two days."
Mr. Ensor unlocked the door, and they entered the lavishly furnished room. "Varina?" he called. "Varina, are you in here?"
"She's not here," Mr. Arriola pointed out.
The older man pointed to a large painting on the wall. "She wouldn't have left without this. It's the last family portrait we had done before her mother passed."
"Check to see if her luggage is still here," Mr. Arriola suggested, sounding skeptical.
He climbed the stairs to his daughter's bedroom. "Varina, are you in there? I'm coming in." He pushed the door open. A choked sound of dismay and disgust escaped his throat.
"What is it?" Mr. Arriola came up behind him. The suppressed anger that had been smoldering in his eyes faded when he caught sight of the bed, where Varina lay, fully clothed, still, with her blond hair pillowed softly around her head. A slight smell of decomposition drifted from the room.
Mr. Ensor closed the door, and the two men stared at each other for a moment. "Call the police," he ordered quietly.
Detectives Eames and Goren walked into the bedroom through a crowd of uniformed cops and CSU snapping photographs and dusting for prints.
"The Ensors are one of the most influential old-money families in Manhattan," Eames commented. "The Chief of D's wants this solved asap."
"That might not be easy. Money usually comes with enemies."
"But Varina Ensor is probably the lowest priority target in her family. She's young, unmarried, apolitical, not involved in the Ensor real estate empire. She's run the family's charity foundation for the past few years, but it's hard to imagine someone wanting to kill her for that."
Goren stooped down to get a closer look at the body. "Her hands are folded. Her clothes are smooth. And look at her hair."
"Not a strand out of place."
"She's been posed," Goren concluded. "Respectfully. Probably by someone who cared for her. There's no sign of struggle, and no visible injuries."
"Poison?"
"That would be my guess. That also indicates someone close to her. Someone she trusted."
"So now we just need to figure out who wanted Princess Varina of the House of Ensor dead."