You know the drill. I don't own them, Dick Wolf does. Though I did make up the vis and perps and other random people that you don't know. Love to the doink doink, and happy reading. Oh yea, comments goodness.
Detective Mike Logan walked out of the bathroom and stopped at the drink machine. Popping a few coins in, he pushed the button for his drink of choice and bent down to pull it from the drop slot.
"That's pathetic," a voice said at his side. He stood, popped the top on his soda, and brought it to his lips. He stared over the aluminum can at his partner, who had that smile on her face. That little smile that she just loved to throw at him when making her snappy comments.
"You wanna expand on that?" He put the rest of his coins in the machine and waved a hand between the machine and his partner. She reached out and hit a button.
"You groaned when you bent to get your drink," Megan Wheeler said, as her can slid to the drop. She bent down and grabbed it.
"Did not," he muttered.
"You did," she replied. "Maybe not loudly, but it was there." She turned and walked away, opening her drink and sipping it.
"Not all of us are still of the marathon running age, Wheeler."
She sat at her desk and leaned back to look up at him. "It was for charity."
"I didn't groan."
"Did too," she said it quietly, but was overshadowed by a loud voice across the room.
"Logan, Wheeler!" They glanced over to their boss' office where he stood watching them expectantly.
"Oooh, what'd you do now?" She crooned as she headed for the Captain's office. Logan followed with a roll of his eyes.
"What's up?" Wheeler asked Captain Danny Ross, when the two detectives had filed in.
"For you." He handed over a post-it with an address. Logan took it and glanced it over.
"What is it?" Mike asked.
"A man was strangled."
"There's gotta be more or it wouldn't be ours," Logan led.
"Found dead in his home, the only thing missing was his work gear," Ross informed. "All cash, cards, valuables are accounted for." He gazed at his waiting detectives and hesitated. "Across town we got one more vic, same situation."
"You want us to go check it out or make this a dramatic recounting?"
Ross gave Logan an unamused stare. "I'm asking that we take this case seriously."
"Why wouldn't we?" Wheeler asked.
"Because, these men...their work gear consists of ball noses and big floppy shoes."
"Someone's killing clowns?" Logan couldn't fake the moment of incomprehension that crossed his features.
"Like...Ronald McDonald...clowns?" Wheeler asked.
"Yes," Ross nodded. "Go check it out, and just remember..." he felt like a fool for saying it, but it had to be said, "Clowns are people, too."
By the time the two detectives arrived at the first crime scene, the situation had sunk in for them. They had driven in silence the whole way, mulling it over. Mike parked the car and headed for the front door of the apartment building. CSU was already buzzing around, in and out of the building.
"Remember what Ross said," Wheeler reminded Logan with raised eyes.
"I'm on my best behavior," he assured her. They made their way into the victims apartment and glanced at the floor, where a middle aged man lay dead. Medical Examiner Elizabeth Rodgers was bent at his side, but she stopped long enough to look up at her not so favorite detective.
"Logan," she greeted.
He gave her a smile. "Rodgers, what do we owe the pleasure?"
"Strangled with foreign object," she launched into it. "Sliced into his skin, but it was a lack of oxygen that killed him."
"Any idea on the object?" Wheeler knelt on the other side of the victim.
"Traces of latex and cornstarch."
"So the perp used surgical gloves to strangle him," Logan nodded. Rodgers shrugged and stood up. She looked at him.
"Could be, but that wouldn't explain the broken skin and rash. If I may?" She held her gloved hands out to him.
"Be my guest," he said. She put her hands to his throat lightly.
"If I were to strangle you with gloved hands...you might get a rash from the material...unlikely I'll cut you." She yanked one of her gloves off and stretched it between her hands. "Now this, with enough pressure, may break your skin. It also might give you a rash. Then it'll kill you." She pushed the stretched glove against his neck.
"But..." Wheeler got up and walked over. "That isn't even going around his neck. I know he's got an unusually thick neck, but there's no way-"
Rodgers nodded. "I thought about that, too." She stepped back and looked down at the victim. Logan followed her gaze and then nodded.
"Right," he said.
"What?" Wheeler was still a bit lost.
"Death by balloon animal," Logan explained. "Before it was an animal, or inflated." Wheeler got it then.
"That's a new one," she commented. She looked around. "Anyone find the murder weapon?"
A nearby patrolman handed her an evidence bag that contained an opened pack of balloons. "This is all we found. They were all in the pack in his kitchen."
"Do we have an ID?" Mike asked, grabbing the balloons and peering the package over.
The patrolman nodded and pulled out his notepad. "Willie Harp, age forty-three, appears to live alone."
"I'll want to examine him back at my place before I put anything in writing," Rodgers said, packing up her gear. She headed for the door to talk to one of her CSU guys, but stopped to smile at Mike. "Thanks for the help."
"I'm sure it's what you've always dreamed of," he gave her a nod. "Glad to oblige."
"I'm heading to check on the other one, I'll let you know," she said.
Wheeler walked up to Logan. "He belongs to a troupe called 'Send In Da Clowns," she said. She handed over a card. "The card is an advertisement for Willie...or should I say Winkie The Clown. It's got a cell number on it." She handed over a cell phone wrapped in an evidence bag.
"Got a number for the troupe?"
"Not that they've found yet."
"We sure no one else lives here?"
"No trace of anyone."
"Well let's see about finding someone who knows him," Mike said. He watched as CSU prepped the guy to take him to Warner's lab.
"Shouldn't we check our other clown out first?"
"Come now, Wheeler, no need to call names."