Title: Summer Daze
Author: karraselle
Genre: crime drama/romance (het)
Characters: Goren, Eames, Ross, and a cast of originals
rating: M - MA
Summary: New York, mid-July, the detectives of Major Case Squad must resolve the problems of: a series of jewelry store robberies, two murders, and one personal entanglement.
Warnings: Sexual situations, language
Disclaimer: I own neither the police drama concept nor the main characters. All publicly recognizable characters and places are the property of Universal Studios, NBC and Dick Wolf et al. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment purposes only and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks is intended. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are the intellectual property of the author. Any references to actual persons, places, things, or ideas have been altered for reasons of privacy and/or for artistic purposes.
Summer Daze
Chapter One:
Detective Robert Goren sat in the media room on the eleventh floor of One Police Plaza scanning hours of video tape from a variety of jewelry stores. He was investigating a series of small thefts that all seemed to have been carried out by the same individual. Together, the losses added up to more than two hundred thousand dollars.
A young woman would enter the shop with a display case during peak hours and attempt to sell her jewelry designs. While the owner and clerks were busy with customers, she would slip a few pieces into her pockets or purse and quietly leave the store. Although all of the shop owners had spoken with her, none were able to ID her. She never gave them a name.
Detective Alexandra Eames walked into the media room to join her partner, who sat astride an office chair engrossed in grainy black and white images.
"You get anything?" she asked.
"Our perp," he replied, "watch this."
He ran the tape back a bit and waited while Alex watched.
"Ink pens." She muttered.
"And this," he changed the tape and pressed play.
"Breath mints?"
"One more," he added, changing the tape again.
"Post-it notes…What does a jewel thief want with those?"
"There are more just like that on every tape. She's a kleptomaniac." Bobby answered.
Alex had learned a long time ago not to question her partner in matters of mental illness. He knew his stuff.
Captain Danny Ross leaned into the doorway and tapped on the glass wall, "The 33rd has your perp." He announced, "She's dead."
Eames and Goren rode through the streets of New York in their department SUV with the windows down.
"I can't believe the AC's broken." Alex huffed, "What is it? A hundred degrees out there?
"One hundred one, according to that bank sign" her partner responded absently, barely looking up from his notebook as he pointed.
Eames wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand and grumbled, "The guys from the 33rd just had to find a body in a fish market dumpster on the hottest day of the year."
"You know, Eames," Goren said, "I was thinking I'd interview the witnesses and let you examine the scene on this one."
"Not funny, Bobby."
Eames brought the vehicle to a stop near a group of squad cars at the rear of the Fulton Fish Market. There was a shimmer of heat rising from the pavement and the stink was incredible. Together, they emerged from the SUV and approached the officer in charge. Alex unconsciously placed a hand over her nose as she watched her partner climb into the dumpster full of fish heads to get a look at the body.
Goren examined the corpse of a young woman, late twenties, with short blond hair and long bangs that had been fashioned into six pink and blue braids. An empty purse and display case containing a lone business card which read "E. Morgan Designs" lay nearby, half buried in fish entrails.
"She was strangled," he stated in his usual matter of fact tone. "Probably," there was a loud squelch as he shifted his weight, pulled the purse from the muck and compared the strap to the ligature marks, "Yes. With this." He held it up for Eames to see and dropped it into a large evidence bag. He found a bluish, sticky mass next to the victim's head and raised it toward his face.
"Oh, God. Don't." Alex blurted, too late.
Her partner sniffed at the gob and announced, "Blueberry gum."
Eames turned away and made a sour face, "Where are the guys who found her?" she asked the young officer beside her, "I need to talk to them."
"Over there, Ma'am" the rookie replied, pointing, "We asked them to wait for you."
"Thanks." Alex nodded and added over her shoulder as she walked away, "If he smells anything else, I don't want to know."
Back at their desks, Goren and Eames went over what they knew and waited for what they didn't. They hoped they would be able to identify the dead girl from her fingerprints. A clerk walked by and dropped a report next to Alex.
"Got it." She said leafing through the pages, "Esther Morgan, twenty-eight years old, East Village address, couple of dope pops and, surprise-surprise, a whole bunch of shoplifting arrests over the last twelve years."
"Any convictions?" He asked, looking up from his notes.
Alex leafed back and forth through the report, "Only one, juvenile, eleven years ago, she got thirty days probation with mandatory psychiatric evaluation. Other than that, all the charges were dropped. Merchandise was returned or restitution paid."
"Somebody's been looking out for her."
"Until she started bringing home the big ticket items." Eames added.
"We need her psych file." Bobby stated.
"I'll order it. Until it comes in, we can check out her apartment and talk to the neighbors. Maybe she had a boyfriend."
The small, clean but cluttered, studio apartment on Eighth Street offered few answers for the detectives. The kitchen table was scattered with jewelry making tools and materials. Dirty clothes were piled at the foot of the bed. Dishes mounded on the kitchen counters. Everything the girl owned seemed to be stacked up in plain sight. There was not one bill, notice, check, or even so much as a love letter anywhere. Bobby did find her "treasure chest", a neatly stacked tower of pizza boxes in a corner of the den. Each one contained hundreds of ink pens, paper clips, mints, thumbtacks and a myriad of other small, inconsequential items she had stolen.
"Maybe the jewels are hidden somewhere else." Eames suggested.
"No," Bobby shook his head, "Kleptomaniacs' compulsion to steal stems from feelings of guilt or tension, sometimes coupled with depression. The objects are either returned surreptiously, or kept and hidden in a specific location. The way that a pack rat will steal to line its nest."
"This rat's nest should have a two hundred thousand dollar lining."
"Someone had to be taking advantage of her." Bobby retorted, "Let's talk to the neighbors."
Goren and Eames made their way through the entire building, knocking on doors, asking the same questions over and over again, and having more than a few doors slammed in their faces.
"They aren't going to talk to us." Goren said after the fourth door was banged shut by a young person with crayola colored hair. "Punks get targeted by the police all the time. They don't trust us."
Of the neighbors who did speak with them, none of them knew much about the young lady in 12B. Just that she seemed nice enough and she made interesting jewelry. The superintendent was most helpful. He told them that the girl's parents paid all of her bills, he'd never seen any sign of a boyfriend, and he thought she spent her weekends hanging out at a local punk bar called Maurice's Tavern. He'd seen her outside the place more than once with a group of kids on his way home from a night out.
A quick phone call confirmed that Maurice's Tavern had live music every Thursday, Friday, and Saturday night. They were told to come early "because the place fills up fast." Bobby and Alex made a date to play dress up the next night, called it a day, and went home.