It's that time of year. Again.
By Ria
Ideas mine. Rest of it is not
W/S don't like, don't read.
Please review- it's free!
The door shut behind their only suspect, as Brass sat in the recently vacated seat, audibly sighing. Sara methodically put sheets of paper into a pile, refusing to look up and meet Brass's eye, knowing what she would see when she did. Somewhere to her left, Warrick scraped a chair as he pulled it away from the table, sitting down with a sigh not unlike Brass.
'We can't hold him.' Brass finally said. 'We have nothing on him.'
'What, and the fact that Jenson was screwing his wife, the fact that he has no alibi for the time of the murder, or the fact that he accidentally threw out the clothes he was wearing that night mean nothing?' Sara asked, looking up at Brass now with hostile eyes.
Brass didn't take the hostility personally. They were all frustrated, on the wrong end of a second double shift, and watching their murder investigation fall around his ears. He kept his voice reasonable as he spoke aloud. 'There's nothing to link him to the scene of the crime. DA won't file with the case as it is.' For a moment, Brass looked away from Sara, up at Warrick, wondering what he had to say about it. In posture, he looked fairly relaxed, leaning back in his seat, playing with a pen on the table. It was only when he looked up at Brass that the frustration was evident, his eyes hard.
'So we find more evidence.' He stated suddenly, as if the idea had just occurred to him then.
Sara, the paper neat and in it's file, and nothing left to do with her hands, pushed the chair away from the table. 'Come on then.' She stated.
'Where are you going?' Brass asked. 'You've already finger searched the vic's house.'
'So we look a little harder, hope we find something more.'
Brass met her eyes, nodded. 'Ok. I'll babysit Kilburn, see if I can get anything more.' Brass said.
Sara stood up, looking across at Warrick who mimicked the movement.
'You do realise what day it is, don't you?' Brass's voice stopped them short at the door.
'Christmas day.' Sara stated. 'So what?'
Brass didn't get a chance to say anything more as she quickly walked out the door, followed by Warrick who had a hint of a smile on his face. He shrugged, talking to himself as he said. 'Just so you know.'
Sara looked around one last time at the scene of the murder. 'Ok.' She said. 'Ok.' She repeated, just because the word was all she had to offer. Then she sighed. 'Ok.' She said a little more forcefully. By this time, Warrick was watching her with a barely concealed amused look on his face, despite the circumstances.
'The victim was found here.' Sara finally said, slowly, as if she was trying to sound it out in her mind before she said it out loud. She walked over to a spot where congealed blood formed a large puddle on the hard wood floor, indicating a length with a sweep of her hands. 'He was curled in a foetal position.' She said.
She paused, her eyes sweeping the hard wood floor they had already done a pinpoint search of, before she looked up. 'The window is broken- broken from the outside, probably with a sharp object in the bottom left hand corner.' Sara carried on.
Warrick, knowing what she was trying to do, stepped over to the window. 'If Jenson climbed through the window, he would have trace on him.' He pointed out.
'Maybe.' Sara said, a glint forming in her eye that Warrick had learnt to identify as an idea forming. He followed her eye site to the left of the window, not seeing at first what she was seeing. 'Go outside.' Sara instructed him suddenly. Anyone else, and he would have wanted a full explanation of why, but as it was Sara, he went out, reappearing in the window place a few minutes later. It was a small window, about two foot square, fitting in with the small apartment that it led into. In the apartment, little was in evidence of the season, no tree or lights and only a few cards still in their envelopes. Warrick looked in at the depressingly small room, then looked at Sara, hoping to prompt her.
'Try and get in.' Sara said. As Warrick prepared to put his foot up on the window ledge she added. 'Without climbing in.'
Warrick looked at her confused. 'Without climbing in?' he questioned her.
She nodded.
Warrick paused for a second, wondering if it was trick, before he looked around him for other avenues. 'I suppose I can't just come back in the front door.'
'It's locked.'
'Right.' Warrick frowned. 'It was locked when the victim was found?' he questioned.
'Yes.'
'Ok, so if every other access point was also locked- no other window was broken, then perhaps…he had a key?' Warrick ventured.
'Why would he break the window?'
'To throw us off?' Warrick questioned.
'Look around. Closer.' Sara instructed.
Warrick put his head through the window, his eyes sweeping, wondering what Sara was getting at. Then Warrick saw it- a small hook hidden partially by a shelving unit, to the left of the window. Warrick reached in, seeing that he could reach the key although he didn't pick it up. He met Sara's look, his own eyes now excited. 'He smashed the window, picked out the key, opened the door, did his crime, locked the door and put the key back.' Warrick said.
Sara carefully picked up the key, dropping it into an evidence bag, and sealing it. 'He's been here before, we know that- he came round soon after finding out that Jenson was sleeping with his wife.'
'Saw the key, formed a plan, came back, killed the guy.'
'Still doesn't link him- it's all circumstantial unless we can get really lucky and a ridge print off the key- which I doubt he's stupid enough to leave.' Sara said.
'No, but there are less obvious places he might have left prints and never thought of cleaning off.' Warrick said.
Sara leant down to the crime scene box at her feet, getting out the finger printing powder and brush. 'Just our luck, he was probably wearing gloves.' She muttered as she handed the two items to Warrick, who immediately began dusting around the outside of the window.
'It was a crime of passion- he might have been planning to a point, but it was just incidental- remembering the key and getting in through the front door. Burning the clothes as they probably had blood on them. But hopefully he forgot to plan enough and left a nice fat ridge print outside the window as he leant against the wall to look inside.' Warrick said as he uncovered a near perfect hand print on the wall to the left of the window.
Sara leaned out slightly, allowing a grin to come to her face as she saw the ridge detail. 'Finally.' She said. 'A break.'
'No crime's perfect- especially when they're looking for revenge against their wife's lover.' Warrick spoke, carefully lifting the handprint away.
Sara watched, unsurprised as he dusted on the other side. If their thoughts were correct, and the prints matched, they would have enough evidence for Brass to charge their suspect. But both wanted it certain, wanted all the evidence they could. If only so when some hyped up defence lawyer tried to claim coincidence they could bombard them with evidence.
'And now we'll put him away for life, just in time for Christmas.' Sara finished with a happy grin as she found her own partial print on the wall by where the key had been hooked. 'Let's get this back to the lab.'
The evidence clerked, they watched behind the two way mirror, as Brass charged Kilburn with the murder of his wife's lover. They both gained a certain satisfaction as the man watched Brass stony faced, unrepentant, knowing they'd put away a vicious killer.
As Kilburn was led away, still stony silent, Warrick glanced at his watch. 'And just in time to get home for Gram's Christmas dinner.' He said with a grin. He turned to Sara. 'Have you got plans?' He asked, knowing that she didn't.
'Bath. Bed. Food. Not necessarily in that order.' Sara answered. She turned to Warrick, about to say "Enjoy your mea"l, when Warrick interrupted.
'You're coming with me.'
Sara's eyebrows shot up at his no nonsense tone. 'I am?' She asked confused, wondering what she had missed.
'If I go home and Grams finds out I let you go home alone on Christmas day I'll never hear the end of it.' Warrick said. 'Plus, you're not working tonight, and it's Christmas.' He emphasised as if that sealed it.
'Ok.' Sara said, unable to keep the smile off her face at his tone. 'Won't your Grams want a say in this?'
Warrick waved away the suggestion with a chuckle. 'My Grams has an open door policy for Christmas, and always cooks too much. Believe me, you'll be taking a doggy bag home tonight that'll last you to the new year!'
Sara shook her head, as she followed him to the locker room. 'And I suppose that I can't beg off this and go home to bed?' Sara said after him.
'Not a chance. Don't be such a bore. It's Christmas.'
'So everyone keeps telling me.'
Warrick didn't know why Sara had such a downer on Christmas, although guessed that having to spend it away from family didn't help. Although, he reflected as he watched her giggle over a photo album with Grams and a few of her friends, she didn't seem to be disagreeing with the plan now.
Warrick tried to look at the spine of the photo album, wondering what year Grams was humiliating him with; by the tears of laughter rolling down both Sara's and Gram's face, he guessed it was the one with the naked baby photos in. Or worse, the ones of his first day at school when he thought short trousers, socks and sandals was a cool look. Warrick did a mental grimace. Perhaps it was a bad idea that he had brought Sara along. Or perhaps he should have hid away the photo albums when he first got here. Another thought came to him, and he vowed to keep Grams away from the attic, and the stack of home movies stored up there.
As he'd predicted, Grams had cooked enough to feed the five thousand instead of just the friends and neighbours who were alone and came round to enjoy the food and homely atmosphere Grams always created. Even Sara had enjoyed herself, helping Grams with the cooking, enjoying the food as they all had, then insisting that Grams sit down as she dragged him into the kitchen to help with the washing up. Not that he had minded all that much; it had been worth it to see her face when he pushed the bubbles into her face. Although the retaliation had been less fun when he'd found his own face full of suds, along with a few well aimed ice cubes down the back of his shirt.
He had been so lost in thoughts he hadn't noticed Sara stood in front of him, till she proffered a glass of wine in his direction. 'What are you thinking deep and meaningful about?' She asked as she sat down next to him on the sofa, her hand briefly resting on his thigh.
Warrick looked round at her, narrowing his eyes. 'Wondering what embarrassing photos my Grams has just shown you.' He said, trying to sound stern, although there was a glint of amusement in his eyes.
Sara patted his leg. 'Oh, nothing that's not in every kids photo album. Although I did like the schoolboy look. Who would have thought someone so cool once wore sandals with socks.' She said with a laugh at the look Warrick threw at her.
Warrick sipped his wine, laughing with her now as Sara continued teasing him about the naked baby photos she'd also been shown, both unaware they were being watched carefully.
Grams chuckled silently, sipping at what she wished was Gin and Tonic, but due mainly to her well meaning grandson was just lemonade. Finally getting to meet Sara, who Warrick talked about a lot, and seeing that she hadn't been imagining the look Warrick got in his eye when he did. It was there, as the two laughed together on the sofa, looking like they'd forgotten that anyone else was there. Now, Grams wondered as she looked around for the hidden bottle of wine, how to make them see what she saw?
She had a few plans up her sleeve.
