Red on Grey
MacDuff: "Ring the alarum bell. Murder and treason!"
~~MacBeth, Act II, Scene III, Line 80
Another day, another case. That was the routine for level 3 CSI Molly Samson.
But this case was different. Today, her reputation as head of the Crime Scene Investigation squad of the Washington DC Metro area was being tried for all it was worth.
Two days after the Senate elections, at 3:30 in the morning, her beeper went off. The DC Metro police were doing a sweep of the Capitol area, when they saw a figure lying prone in front of the US Capitol.
She arrived on the scene in her black Escalade, badgeing her way through the early-morning mob of onlookers. She saw the figure, covered in a white sheet, lying spread-eagled on the cold cement, congealed blood staining the ground. She saw her partner, Jacob Maccabee, and walked over to him.
"So who's the vic?" She asked, grabbing the travel mug of coffee he offered her.
"Senator James Smith," he read off an ID card, "53-year-old white male, incumbent Senator from Oklahoma, head of the Senate commission of Agriculture."
"We looking at suicide?" She asked, "Did he just succumb to the pressure of public servitude?"
"That's what DC Metro thought," James said, a five 'o clock shadow present on his olive-toned skin, "but then Clark found that." He pointed to the left of the white-shrouded body, towards CSI level 2 Clark Jackson.
Molly walked over to Clark, who was photographing something on the ground. "So, what do you have for me, Clark?"
Clark looked up from his camera, his young face pale with revulsion. "Well, when Jacob and I arrived, we assumed it was a suicide, and he had me process the scene around the body while we waited for the coroner," he paused. "I found this here." He nodded a the ground, where the words, "Sic semper tyranus, Sic simper imbecillus" were written in bright red letters.
"'Thus always the tyrant, thus always the weak'," she said, holding back a wave of revulsion, "high school Latin," she said to Clark's confused face. "So we're assuming this was politically motivated?"
"Yeah, and that's not all," Clark said, holding up a swab that appeared to be dipped in pinkish-purple liquid.
"He wrote it in blood?" She asked, shocked.
"Yeah, we're going to have to wait for the results from the lab, but we're assuming it's the vic's."
"That's awful."
"Yeah," the young CSI's skin had a faint green tinge.
Just then, her cell phone rang. She looked at the called ID. It read, "Cameron McCabe".
"What's up, Cam?" she asked her fellow CSI.
"Well, for one thing, I am," replied the quirky redhead, "I see youuuu," he called.
"McCabe, what the hell are you talking about?" She looked around, trying to find him, "Where are you?"
"Why don't you come up to the Capitol Dome and see for yourself? I have some interesting stuff."
"I'll be up there in five minutes," she said, and hung up the phone.
After an elevator ride and walking up two flights of stairs, she found the stereotypical Irish boy leaning against the balcony on the top of the dome.
"So what did you drag me up here for?"
"Primary crime scene," Cam said.
Molly examined the balcony, then, in the right-hand corner of the balcony, there were two sets of shoe impressions. One was a dress shoe, and one appeared to be a work boot. "Let me guess, the Senator is wearing the dress shoe?" Molly asked.
"You are correct, sir!"
"So we're looking for someone with a size eleven shoe, wearing work boots, and probably has some blood on his hands and under his nails,"
"Ok,"
"Did you photograph this?"
"Yes, ma'am," he saluted.
"Yeah, whatever." As the two CSI's rode the elevator down, Molly's phone rang again, this time, it read, "Detective Ryan Shanley".
"This is Samson," she answered.
"CSI Samson, this is Detective Shanley, from homicide."
"What's up, detective?"
"It's about your Senator."
"What about him?" she asked.
"We just got a signed confession from a guy down at the station."
"Really? Are you sure he did it?" Molly was shocked.
"We got some blood out from under his fingernails and it was a match to the AFIS profile of your vic."
"Oh, wow, did you get a motive?"
"Apparently, he was a member of a radical environmental movement and didn't agree with his stance on global warming,"
"That's it? Politics?"
"Yep, Danny got held up in traffic, he should be there soon." Dr. Danny Coombs was the head Medical Examiner for the DC Metro area.
"Ok, I'll be here."
"See you downtown,"
"Yep," and they disconnected.
"What was that about?" Asked Cameron as they walked out of the Capitol.
"The guy who did this confessed," she said blankly.
"Wow, did he say why?"
"Politics."
"Welcome to DC," he shrugged.
"Yeah."
Danny had arrived. "So what's your preliminary COD, doc?" She asked him.
"Well, the vic suffered massive internal bleeding, a fractured spine, skull and hip," Danny said professionally, his slight Boston accent and lisp combining to create the endearing vocal pattern Molly could recognize a mile away. He continued, "Right now, I'm going to say exsanguination and fracture of the third and fourth vertebrae."
"Ok, thanks Danny," Molly walked back to the black Escalade parked haphazardly on the curb. Another day, another case, she thought. Now, she needed a hot shower and a paper back. That wouldn't happen, because first she had to hold a press conference and be in the hot seat of the FBI and the Secret Service. Then, there was the paperwork. Ugh, she thought, paperwork.
The hot shower would just have to wait. As she left the crime scene, the radio came to life, and as she drove away from the capitol outlined against the pink sunrise, the radio played her favorite song.
This is so appropriate, she thought and the song played, "Are they themselves to blame? The misery, the pain/ Did we let go? Allowed it, let it grow?/ If we can't restrain the beast which dwells inside/ It will find its way, somehow, somewhere to hide/ Will we remember all of the suffering?/ 'Cause if we don't, it will be in vain."
~~B
Song Lyrics: Within Temptation, "Our Solemn Hour"