Legacy Of An Alley
It was a cold January night in New York City when the call came in. A body had dropped in Washington Heights.
Crime scene tape was spread across the alley in this small dirty side street not far from the former Palermo Club. Red and blue police lights flashed in the darkness as uniformed officers walked the surrounding streets, knocking on doors and asking questions.
Other uniforms were busy securing the scene, making sure the medical examiner had room to work as she made her preliminary examination and her lab techs took pictures and collected trace evidence, sweeping out in concentric circles from the woman who lay propped up in a seated position against a dumpster, her coat open and three neat stab wounds marred the light blue of her neatly tailored blouse.
The woman was professionally dressed, and but for the blood stains, she looked like she may have been on her way home from work in any number of professional business or law firms, or on her way out to dinner with family.
Little was said between the uniforms and lab techs as they and the medical examiner and her assistant did their work and recorded their findings. That is until an unmarked car pulled up to the end of the alley.
The car door opened and a pair of women's legs encased in skinny jeans swung out from the driver's side to reveal first a pair of high heeled boots, then a blazer over a deep blue conservative blouse with flowing brunette locks. The clack of high heels could be heard ringing on the sidewalk as the long legged professionally dressed women walked slowly up to the alley then, after taking a deep cleansing breath ducked under the crime scene tape and stepped into the alley to the scene of the crime.
She squatted next to the body across from the medical examiner and asked the first inevitable question.
"What have we got?"
"Caucasian female" the ME replied, "between forty and forty-five years of age. Liver temp shows she died between seven and seven thirty last night, possibly earlier given the cold. My preliminary findings suggest the cause of death to be two stab wounds to the mid thorax, cleanly bisecting her liver."
"Anything else?" the detective asked.
"Her purse is till here, as well as all of her jewelry, so it wasn't a robbery, and I don't see any signs of sexual assault. I should have more for you once I get her on my table.
When the detective walked back to the end of the alley she saw an older man with a teenage girl clinging to his arm being held back by the uniforms.
"My wife!" The man shouted, "I was told she was here! Where's my wife?"
She cleared the space in less than three paces, withdrew her badge and waved at the uniform to let him through.
"Detective Rose Freeman." she said, much like Detective Beckett had said to her father once upon a time, " I regret to inform you that your wife was murdered three hours ago. I am deeply sorry for your loss..."
**Author's note** I know you were likely expecting Beckett, but I just watched "Vampire Weekend" and can't help imagining Rosie Freeman as a detective in the Kate Beckett mold. Happy Castle Fanfic Monday!