Title: Revenge Can Be Deadly- Chapter 1
Author: AngelGirl28 (AlexSloan@paxemail.com)
Disclaimer: Here we go. I don't own Diagnosis Murder. I didn't get permission to use the characters. And I'm not making any money off of this, not like I could.
Summary: A clueless murder investigation involving a lawyer gets interesting when federal agents and the stepdaughter of the lawyer gets involved.
Author's Comments: This is my first DM fan fic, so please review. *_~
Chapter 1
A young dark brown-haired man sat motionlessly staring at the computer monitor on the desk in front of him. His worn hazel eyes were fixed on the screen where the face of a young woman with dark blond hair and brilliant green-blue eyes. He typed a command into the computer and after a few moments the words "match found" flashed on the screen. He hit the "enter" button and a name and biographical information appeared on the screen, next to a new picture of the same woman.
"Well, well, if it isn't my old comrade, Mara Ivanov, or should I say 'Alexandra Katherine Mason.'" He mumbled to himself, his voice thick with a heavy Russian accent. He scanned the information carefully for ways to get to her.
He smiled, evilly, at the discovery several ways to seek revenge his long anticipated revenge and proceeded to prepare.
* * *
The large office was dimly lit by a faint solitary light source, which was a small desk lamp. The desk, which it rested on, was piled high with thick red and manila folders, mounds of loose papers and other miscellaneous objects. The off-white walls were lined with antique mahogany bookshelves and everything was in its own specified place. A tall lean man in his early 40's, sat with his head in his hands, gray-blue eyes staring at the open folder sitting on the desk in front of him. Mondays were always the busiest days for him, and especially this particular Monday night. His work was frustrating him. He had a deluge of case reports to write before the end of the week and they were still stacking. To take his mind off of things further he picked up the phone and dialed in his stepchildren's number.
"Mason." A tired, stuffy female voice answered. He suddenly remembered Alex had been sick over the weekend with the flu and was starting to get over it.
"Alex? Could you do me a favor?"
"Sure, John. What is it?" Alex responded much more cheerfully. Obviously she was feeling much better than she would let on initially.
"Could the kids stay at your place tonight? I have more work than I thought and I may not be home until really late."
"Absolutely. I'm positive that they would enjoy staying. And don't worry about them or Cascade. I'll send some over to up Cascade. They'll get dropped off at school tomorrow on time and I will pick Terri up early for his doctor's appointment."
"Great! Thank you, Alex."
"Would you like me to come over and help you out? I could help with the reports, and everything for me is really slow this week so far. You know the delegating cases to the appropriate teams only and Ian is dealing with that this week for me."
"No, Alex. I'll take care of this, but come Friday I may just take you up on that offer if I haven't finished them by then." He didn't want to bring her to his office when she was still getting over that flu bug that had left her in bed all weekend.
"Okay. Just don't finish it all. You know how much I love writing case reports!" Her voice was saturated with sarcasm.
John laughed at the sarcastic comment. "Right. See you tomorrow, right?"
"Right. It's one of my days to pick the kids up."
"Thank you again. I love you."
"I love you too."
"Tell Andrew and the kids that I love them also."
"Okay."
"Alright, Alex. See you tomorrow. Tell everyone I said 'Hi'."
"Alright. Bye, John."
"Bye." John Powers hung up his phone and looked at the two, framed pictures on his desk. One family portrait taken before his wife had died and one that had been taken several years ago, when Alex and Andrew, his twin stepchildren, turned 21. He stood up from his chair and headed to the large window on the back wall of his office. As he looked out the window he heard someone come in behind him. He turned around but before he could see who it was he had heard the loud resounding bang of a gun and felt something tear into him and again and again. As he felt his life slip away on the floor his thoughts were focused on his family and the secret he and his wife would carry to the grave. John attempted to remain standing, but the act took the remaining strength he had and forced him to back against the wall and slipped into the inviting blackness of unconsciousness.
John slumped down against the wall leaving a large streak of blood in the corner of his office next to the window with his head resting against the adjoining wall. His chin-length dark brown hair cascaded down, covering his now pale and lifeless face. His dark blue jeans were stained with dark blood along with his white golf shirt. The gaping holes left from the bullets were pronounced with the growing stain of his blood. On the tan carpeted floor surrounding the dead man was a large pool of blood. No one would find his body there until much later, when someone came looking for him.
Next Chapter Coming Soon- pending the reviews
Author: AngelGirl28 (AlexSloan@paxemail.com)
Disclaimer: Here we go. I don't own Diagnosis Murder. I didn't get permission to use the characters. And I'm not making any money off of this, not like I could.
Summary: A clueless murder investigation involving a lawyer gets interesting when federal agents and the stepdaughter of the lawyer gets involved.
Author's Comments: This is my first DM fan fic, so please review. *_~
Chapter 1
A young dark brown-haired man sat motionlessly staring at the computer monitor on the desk in front of him. His worn hazel eyes were fixed on the screen where the face of a young woman with dark blond hair and brilliant green-blue eyes. He typed a command into the computer and after a few moments the words "match found" flashed on the screen. He hit the "enter" button and a name and biographical information appeared on the screen, next to a new picture of the same woman.
"Well, well, if it isn't my old comrade, Mara Ivanov, or should I say 'Alexandra Katherine Mason.'" He mumbled to himself, his voice thick with a heavy Russian accent. He scanned the information carefully for ways to get to her.
He smiled, evilly, at the discovery several ways to seek revenge his long anticipated revenge and proceeded to prepare.
* * *
The large office was dimly lit by a faint solitary light source, which was a small desk lamp. The desk, which it rested on, was piled high with thick red and manila folders, mounds of loose papers and other miscellaneous objects. The off-white walls were lined with antique mahogany bookshelves and everything was in its own specified place. A tall lean man in his early 40's, sat with his head in his hands, gray-blue eyes staring at the open folder sitting on the desk in front of him. Mondays were always the busiest days for him, and especially this particular Monday night. His work was frustrating him. He had a deluge of case reports to write before the end of the week and they were still stacking. To take his mind off of things further he picked up the phone and dialed in his stepchildren's number.
"Mason." A tired, stuffy female voice answered. He suddenly remembered Alex had been sick over the weekend with the flu and was starting to get over it.
"Alex? Could you do me a favor?"
"Sure, John. What is it?" Alex responded much more cheerfully. Obviously she was feeling much better than she would let on initially.
"Could the kids stay at your place tonight? I have more work than I thought and I may not be home until really late."
"Absolutely. I'm positive that they would enjoy staying. And don't worry about them or Cascade. I'll send some over to up Cascade. They'll get dropped off at school tomorrow on time and I will pick Terri up early for his doctor's appointment."
"Great! Thank you, Alex."
"Would you like me to come over and help you out? I could help with the reports, and everything for me is really slow this week so far. You know the delegating cases to the appropriate teams only and Ian is dealing with that this week for me."
"No, Alex. I'll take care of this, but come Friday I may just take you up on that offer if I haven't finished them by then." He didn't want to bring her to his office when she was still getting over that flu bug that had left her in bed all weekend.
"Okay. Just don't finish it all. You know how much I love writing case reports!" Her voice was saturated with sarcasm.
John laughed at the sarcastic comment. "Right. See you tomorrow, right?"
"Right. It's one of my days to pick the kids up."
"Thank you again. I love you."
"I love you too."
"Tell Andrew and the kids that I love them also."
"Okay."
"Alright, Alex. See you tomorrow. Tell everyone I said 'Hi'."
"Alright. Bye, John."
"Bye." John Powers hung up his phone and looked at the two, framed pictures on his desk. One family portrait taken before his wife had died and one that had been taken several years ago, when Alex and Andrew, his twin stepchildren, turned 21. He stood up from his chair and headed to the large window on the back wall of his office. As he looked out the window he heard someone come in behind him. He turned around but before he could see who it was he had heard the loud resounding bang of a gun and felt something tear into him and again and again. As he felt his life slip away on the floor his thoughts were focused on his family and the secret he and his wife would carry to the grave. John attempted to remain standing, but the act took the remaining strength he had and forced him to back against the wall and slipped into the inviting blackness of unconsciousness.
John slumped down against the wall leaving a large streak of blood in the corner of his office next to the window with his head resting against the adjoining wall. His chin-length dark brown hair cascaded down, covering his now pale and lifeless face. His dark blue jeans were stained with dark blood along with his white golf shirt. The gaping holes left from the bullets were pronounced with the growing stain of his blood. On the tan carpeted floor surrounding the dead man was a large pool of blood. No one would find his body there until much later, when someone came looking for him.
Next Chapter Coming Soon- pending the reviews