Ch. 1: Crime

          Devon Cavanaugh, a toughened cop and newly-promoted detective, drove up to her first homicide, yawning and blowing on her coffee.  She knew the streets of New York pretty well, but even if she didn't, all she had to do was look for the sirens and flashing lights and she would know where to head for the murder.

          Yellow crime scene tape lined the sidewalk outside the apartment where the victim was.  After flashing her badge to the patrol at the front, she headed up to the third floor and into room 3A.  Several CSI's were crawling around, collecting evidence and taking pictures.  The medical examiner was looking over the body.

          "So, what went down here?" she asked, walking up next to her new partner.

          He turned to look at her.  Tall, black, with a goatee and very nice eyes, he looked at her quizzically.  "Do you have permission to be here?" he asked.

          Devon pulled her badge again and hooked it through the strap on her jacket.  "Detective Devon Cavanaugh. You must be Detective Green." She extended her hand.  "Nice to meet you," she said.

          "Very," Ed replied, smiling.  "You look kind of young to be a detective, though.  What precinct did you transfer from?"
          "The one-three; I was there for seven years. I think they were getting sick of me.  So they called Van Buren and asked her to take me," Devon explained.

          "Oh," Ed said.  "Well, to answer your question, the DOA's name is Jennifer Robbins, age thirty-two.  Cause of death is one massive blow to the back of the head."

          "And the weapon of choice?" Devon asked.

          "Mickey Mouse," Ed replied, pointing to the coffee table, where a bronze statue of Mickey was covered in dried blood.

          "I'll never look at that mouse the same way again," Devon said, crouching down to get a closer look at the body.  "Seems like she got kicked a few times, too."  She pointed a gloved finger at the boot marks on the girl's side.

          "The ME said that the perp probably kicked her before he killed her, or there wouldn't have been much bruising," Ed explained.

          Devon nodded.  She remembered seeing a body similar to this before, but she shook the image out of her head.  It was part of her past and she didn't want to remember it.  "Do we have any witnesses?" she asked.

          Ed nodded.  "The girl next door said that she heard fighting around midnight," he replied.

          "What did the ME give for time of death?"

          "Somewhere between ten PM and one AM."

          "Not many people argue with dead bodies," Devon said, getting up and pulling off her gloves.  "She must have died after twelve."  She headed towards the door with her memo pad and pen ready.

          "Where are you going?" Ed asked.

          "To ask a few more questions," she replied.  She walked out into the hallway and banged on the door to 3B.

          "Yeah?" the young woman asked, opening the door.

          "Detective Cavanaugh, NYPD," Devon said.

          "Someone already asked me some questions-"

          "I'm just here to ask a little more," Devon said.  "You mentioned to the other officers that you heard shouting around midnight?"

          "Yeah, that's right," the girl replied, pulling her bathrobe tighter.

          "Was that when it started, or when you first heard it?" Devon asked.

          "That's when it started.  I figured she was having another argument with her boyfriend," she explained.

          "Did you happen to see the boyfriend?" Devon asked, raising an eyebrow.

          The young woman nodded.  "Around eleven o'clock, I was coming back from a club.  A guy was coming up behind me, asking where Jenny's apartment was.  So I told him," she replied, wringing her hands.

          "Did he mention his name?"

          "No, but I heard Jenny say it once he was inside.  Eric," the woman said.

          "Do you remember what he looked like?" Devon asked, scribbling down everything she told her.

          "Umm…sandy hair in a bowl-cut, dark eyes, tall, wearing a leather jacket.  Mid-thirties," the girl said.  "That's all I can remember."

          "Well, if you think of anything else, call us," Devon said, handing the young woman one of her newly-printed business cards.  "Thanks for your help."  The woman nodded and shut the door; Devon walked back over to Ed, who was speaking with a CSI.

          "You find anything besides what we already know?" he asked, turning to her.

          "What did we already know?" Devon retorted.

          Ed raised an eyebrow at her.  "That our victim had somebody over around eleven," he said.  "That's it.  What'd you get?"

          "That our victim had a boyfriend named Eric, who was in his mid-thirties, with sandy bowl-cut hair, dark eyes, and was tall," Devon explained.

          "Impressive," Ed said quietly.  "We can get a sketch of him by tomorrow and then show our witness."

          "Yeah," Devon said.  "You might also want to check for M.O.'s similar to this one.  Could give us a heads up on what we might be missing."

          Ed nodded and walked down the stairwell.