I finally started my next story! It's going to be about what I think should have happened if season 2 was a reality. Every two chapters will form 'one episode', with a murder investigation. Here is the first half of the first case and I hope you enjoy it :)
A shrill scream split the cool night air, funnelled out of the open front door and into the quiet street. Windows and doors opened one by one, faces appearing as they peered out into the empty street.
A woman all but flew out of the house, slamming the door behind her, her shoes and coat falling off and laying like a flat person on the sidewalk. The women dropped to her knees in the middle of the road that in summer held scores of children playing games and eating ice cream. Now the road was empty; a black streak on the earth leading into the distance, the only people watching from the houses that stood watch on either side like guards at a palace.
An unearthly sound rose from her throat, tearing the silent evening apart for the second time in less than 5 minutes. Her cries drew the watching people from their homes, dragged them out onto the street with her.
"Are you alright?" A man crouched down beside her, his hand hovering over her shoulders as though he was unsure if he should touch her or not.
"No!" The woman's cries formed words; words filled with anguish and despair. She lent down, resting her head on her knees. Sobs caused her back to heave up and down, her tears forming small puddles on the road. "Blood, blood everywhere." She choked out between sobs. "So much blood."
The man crouching beside her looked up at his neighbours before leaning down beside the woman. "Where's the blood?"
"Inside." The woman flung an arm towards the house she had just come out of. A man and his wife stepped out of the small crowd that had formed on the sidewalk and disappeared into the house, the door shutting behind them with a soft click. "There was blood everywhere," the woman was breathing hard, teardrops dripping from her nose. "There was blood everywhere and he's dead. Oh my god he's dead." She collapsed into tears. Just at that moment the front door to the house creaked open yet again, the couple who had gone inside staggering out of the house. The man was supporting his wife, who looked like she was going to be sick.
"Call 911." His voice rang out through the still air broken with only the muffled sobs of the woman in the road and the faint sounds of televisions from houses that had been abandoned as their occupants came to see what was going on. As the rest of his neighbours stared at him in shock a faint sound of theme music came from the houses as the 6o'clock news came on.
"It's a long story." Henry held the photo in his hand, staring down at it with such love and longing Jo thought it was almost as though he was trying to wish himself into the picture.
"Henry?" She prompted, raising her eyebrows at him. "Can you please explain it to me?" His eyes flicked up to meet hers.
"Oh, yes, of course." Henry blushed a little and looked down, looking flustered. "Sorry, I do appear to have forgotten my manners. Please come in." He held the door open, taking a step backwards to give her room to enter. Jo tried to meet his eyes as she passed him but his eyes remained downcast, fixed on the photo he held.
"Henry." She prompted for the second time and he flushed again, lowering the photo and shutting the door behind her.
"This way." He wove his way through the shop towards the stairs that led up into the rest of the apartment, Abe watching them go. Henry held the photo cradled carefully in his hands the whole way. When they reached the top of the stairs he turned a corner, entering a spotless kitchen that led into a lounge area. "Would you like a drink? Tea, perhaps, or coffee?" Henry waved her towards the chairs in the lounge as he opened a cupboard to get out two china mugs.
"Tea is fine." Jo took a seat in the lounge, inspecting her surroundings with a critical stare as Henry filled the kettle. "You have a lot of books." She commented, her eyes scanning the bookshelves laden with books, many of them old and covered with leather, and old clocks, all ticking away but seemingly displaying the correct time, five minutes to six.
"I collect them." Henry's muffled voice floated out of the kitchen as he searched for teabags, his head in a cupboard. "Earl Grey or English Breakfast?"
"English Breakfast please." Jo replied, her eyes still scanning the room in curiosity.
"Here you go." Henry placed a steaming cup in front of Jo and she picked it up, wrapping her fingers around it. She saw that Henry had placed the photo on the coffee table in front of him and was looking at it as he held his cup, lost in thought. Eventually he looked up with an apologetic look on his face. "Sorry Jo, but don't know where to begin."
"Who are the people in the photo?" Jo began to ask, but her words were drowned out as a loud chiming noise filled the house with six loud bell sounds. Jo's eyes went wide in shock as they sought out the culprit of the sound. Eventually they came to rest on a tall grandfather clock in the corner of the room. Henry noticed her glance and chuckled slightly, shrugging.
"Once an Englishman, always an Englishman. You get used to it." He put his cup down onto the table.
"The people in the photo, who are they?" Jo asked again, "And why was the photo and your watch in the subway?"
Henry took a deep breath before leaning over the table and spinning the photo around so that it faced Jo. He pushed it towards her, pointing at the baby. "This is Abraham, when he was about a year old." He moved a finger until it rested over the woman holding the child. "She's Abraham's mother, her name was-"
"Sylvia." Jo interrupted him. "I remember that from that case" She was looking down at the photo, and didn't see Henry's face crumple slightly, didn't see his mouth, which was open to form the name Abigail, close and then reopen.
"Yes." He finally said. "This photo was taken when they had just moved here from England after the war." His finger slowly drifted across the photo to rest on the man's face. The man who looked just like Henry. "And this is-"
A high pitched persistent ringing sung out from Jo's pocket. She pulled it out, mouthing 'sorry' at Henry as she did so.
"Martinez." She said as she answered it, eyes flickering down as she listened to whoever was on the other end. "Ok, we'll be right there… thanks Hanson." She hung up the phone and picked up her cup of tea. "They need us right away." She explained to Henry as she finished her tea.
Henry looked almost relieved. "Let me just grab my coat." He said standing and gathering up the tea mugs. Together they walked down the stairs into the shop where Abe sat behind the counter reading a book. Jo thought she saw Henry shake his head slightly at Abe as he passed, but told herself she must have imagined it.
"You never told me who that man was, or why that photo and your watch were in the subway." Jo commented as she and Henry drove to the crime scene. She felt rather than saw him stiffen slightly but when she turned to look at him at a red light he looked as relaxed as normal.
"Ah, the man." Henry smiled slightly. "He was my grandfather. Abe's family and mine have been friends for generations. When they moved over here my grandfather visited a few times. After my father was born he got to know Abe quite well as they were about the same age, and they went into business together. As to why you found the watch and photo where you did, I cannot say. They were in the pocket of one of my coats which was stolen. I assume whoever stole it emptied the pockets and kept the coat."
"You just happened to have a 70 year photo on you?" Jo asked sceptically as the lights changed and the car rolled forward. Henry was silent for a moment before he answered.
"I always carry it." His voice was rather small, a sad undertone in it.
"How come?" Jo asked, aware she was treading on delicate ground. "It doesn't have you or either of your parents in it." The silence between them stretched long and loud and when Jo snuck a look at Henry she saw his face was a little pale, his eyes locked on the road. What she didn't know was that Henry wasn't trying to get his emotions under control but was trying to think of a reason why he had the photo.
Eventually he spoke, still looking out of the car windscreen at the road ahead. "How much have I told you about my family in England?" His voice was low.
"Not much." Jo tried to contain her surprise. Henry never talked about his family. "All I know is that your father and Abe were business partners, and when your father died you moved here and took over his part of the shop."
"My father died just before I moved here." Henry was now looking down at his hands. "There was a fire that destroyed my family's home and killed everyone inside; my mother and two younger sisters. I was in the village at the time and I saw the smoke but by the time my older brother and I got there it was too late. There was nothing I could do to save them, but I managed to pull my father out." Henry stared at the window for a moment as buildings whizzed by. "He had smoke inhalation and died a few days later. He left his part of the shop and his pocket watch to me rather than my brother." He paused for a moment and took a shaky breath. "You have to understand we were quite a traditional family, and the business and watch should have gone to my brother. When my father gave them to me it drove a wedge in between my brother and I and I haven't seen him since." He trailed off.
"And the photo?" Jo prompted after a minute of silence.
"All the family photos in the house were destroyed. When I moved over here Abe gave me the one photo he had." Seeing Jo's confusion he added, "My father took all the photos of him and Abe on his camera and never got around to sending the copies back to America. Now they're all destroyed."
"Oh Henry." Jo reached out and patted his arm slightly. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be. It was a long time ago now." Henry forced a smile onto his face. "I've moved on." He twisted slightly in his seat so that Jo's hand fell from his arm. She went to say something but they had arrived at the crime scene and Henry had already jumped out of the car, pulling blue gloves on as he sauntered over to Hanson calling "What have we got?" Sighing, Jo put the car in park and got out, following Henry through the crowd of onlookers and under the yellow police tape.
"Hey Jo." Hanson waved her over to where he and Henry were standing at the entrance to a house. "Victim is one Mark Johnson, 26 years old, lawyer. He was discovered by his girlfriend, but she's currently distraught." Jo followed Hanson through the house, Henry following close behind her. In one of the bedrooms a man was sprawled out on the bed, a stab wound in his chest.
"Do we have a murder weapon?" Jo asked, pulling on her own set of gloves.
"Not yet, but hopefully Henry can help with that." Hanson said, sliding his phone out of his pocket and tapping a few buttons. "Our girlfriend has calmed down a little, I'm going to go talk to her." He said, looking up. "You guys ok here?"
"Yeah we're fine." Jo replied, watching Hanson leave the room. Turning back to the body she asked Henry, "Can you tell what weapon made this?" She waited for his answer but got no reply. "Henry?" She asked, spinning to look at him. He looked distracted and a little unfocused, as though his mind was on other things. Sure enough, when Jo again said "Henry?" He snapped out of it, shaking his head slightly and saying,
"Sorry, I was thinking about something else. What did you ask?" He flashed Jo a charming smile and she smiled back, unable to stay annoyed at him.
"The stab wound, do you think you can work out what caused it?"
"Possibly." Henry moved closer to the body. He reached out with his hands and gently probed the stab wound. Looking up he said, "From the shape of the wound I can gather that it was probably a single edged blade, and from the size I would say maybe a standard kitchen knife. Judging on the lividity," He carried on, looking at bruises on the man's body, "I would guess that the time of death was about 2 hours ago."
"That would be about right." Hanson agreed, coming back into the room. "I just finished talking to the girlfriend, she says he gets back from work at about 4.30pm and she discovered his body just before six." He made a note in his notepad and had just opened his mouth to start speaking again when a series of soft beeps sounded from down the hallway.
"What's that?" Jo asked, moving towards the corridor. "Sounds like a washing machine or dryer." Henry squeezed past her into the hallway, heading towards the sound. He paused in an open doorway and looked back at Jo and Hanson.
"What about a dishwasher?" He asked, raising an eyebrow before disappearing into the room. When Jo and Hanson joined him in the kitchen he was studying the display panel on the grey and black dishwasher under the counter. "It appears that the standard wash setting on here is for one hour and 5 minutes." He said, standing up slowly, looking thoughtful. "So that means-" He was cut off by Jo finishing his sentence.
"It was put on after Johnson's death." She said excitedly, moving towards the machine. "So what's inside it?" She pulled the door to the dishwasher open and stepped back so Henry and Hanson could see.
"Woah." Hanson blinked. Henry just smiled his usual, lazy smile.
"I believe we have found our murder weapon."
So I'll try upload a couple of times a week.
How did you like this chapter? Review please!