Chapter 2
Horatio found that most of the homes by the canal were fenced and gated. The rest had boats or cars blocking access to the water. Checking the few empty lots he found none showed signs of activity such as carrying or dragging a body or tire tracks. He did find the very large spoor of a dog unaccompanied by human prints. He could only hope that the dog had owners who were on the hunt for him. Seeing nothing worth investigating at the moment, Horatio checked his watch. It was nearly one in the afternoon already. He turned onto a street that would take him to the quickest path to the lab. As usual he had other cases and a pile of paperwork waiting for him.
Ruminating on how the body could have gotten into the water, how he might have died without being shot, stabbed or drowning, how he got the bruises, how long he had been dead and much more, the CSI lieutenant sped his way down the causeway. As he exited to Flagler, his cell rang and he pulled to the side of the road.
# # #
At half past two in the afternoon. Deeshawn Cook's school had let out early to allow teachers to catch up on class work and for a minutes' staff meeting. At ten minutes to three he had walked into his aunt's living room, given her a kiss on the cheek, answered her query about how school was, fine, and walked to his bedroom which had once served as a den. He was in his room looking at his computer, deciding what he should do first. He knew his aunt probably had cookies and lemonade in the kitchen. Maybe he'd go grab a plate and a glass and check his email before getting down to homework. He was also going to unpack his posters and decided where to put them this weekend. He stretched, his hands reaching for the rain blemished ceiling of the old house. The young teen never heard the shot.
# # #
A moment after the call to Eric, Horatio was back on the I-95 Expressway headed north to West Little River, an area east of Little Havana.
Once he was on the right street, he had no trouble finding the address. The house had several patrol cars with lights flashing parked at all angles in the street. An ambulance was on standby as usual in the event of need. The M.E. van hadn't arrived yet.
At the door, he did not have to pull his jacket back to show his badge, his red hair being his I.D. Giving the small front room a cursory glance, he spotted a tall bald head through the open kitchen door talking to someone. He caught the man's eye and bent his head towards a quiet corner in the parlor.
"Frank?" What he meant was, 'tell me what has happened here.'
Police Detective Frank Tripp's small mouth drooped more at the edges than usual. "A kid in the bedroom, shot. Only about fifteen years old, Horatio, the homeowner's nephew." The heavy Texas accent dropped each word like a ten pound stone.
"Where is the family?"
"Most are in the kitchen." Frank's chin pointed out the direction. "When you talk to them be careful, they are taking this hard and seem to be looking for shoulders to cry on."
Horatio nodded and walked to a door at one side of the living room. He would face the family later, after getting his shoulder ready to bear up under family grief. That was just part of the job. On the approach to the door, he took notice of the living room's particulars. Instead of a couch, the largest seating area was a settee upholstered in dark blue print with bowed legs. With the dark upholstery, the effect of the dark, deeply carved wood was stern and unforgiving. In front sat a glass topped coffee table in the same carving sat in front. One corner of the room held a very comfortable looking red velvet rocker and in another, a larger rocker in black canvass that looked as comfortable as a rock. One other corner held an armchair in gold print upholstery, two floor lamps from some bygone era, against unimaginative wall paper of small flowers in lines running down between pink lines finished the effect. Neat, clean and serviceable.
An officer standing by the bedroom door, guarding against unauthorized viewers, nodded to the lieutenant as he entered the room.
Horatio knew that dead people never looked as large or as old as they did in life. This kid barely looked seven. His body seemed to have shriveled so that the clothing was more prominent than the wearer. He kneeled by the boy and said a prayer for the departed soul as he often did. Then, standing, he took in the whole scene, imagining where the boy had been standing, where the bullet came from and more, where the shooter had been.
"Oh, Lieutenant, you beat me here."
"Yes Fred, but not by much. I'm just taking a preliminary look. My team will be here shortly to do a full workup. I'll go talk to the family while you take over."
Fred White, still not too sure of himself as an M.E. paused as if going over a list of what needed to be done next. His head bobbed slightly several times. "I won't move the body until your team take the first pictures."
"You don't have a camera?"
"Uh, no, they don't let us small fry play with the nice toys." He smiled apologetically. "For now I'm just a body handler with expertise enough to know what not to do to preserve autopsy forensic evidence." The thin young man with a prominent heavy jaw and watery blue eyes shrugged.
"I understand. When CSIs Delko and Wolfe come in, tell them I'll be interviewing the aunt in the kitchen and then I'll come back here."
"Will do, Lieutenant." Avoiding eye contact, Fred bent down as if involved in the wonders of death. He worked part time with Alexx and part time with another morgue in Fort Lauderdale.
Through the kitchen door, Horatio saw Tripp speaking with a small group of people, all of who seemed to want to answer him at once. Having been in that position more than once, his sympathy went out to him.
Inside, an officer introduced him to the boy's aunt, Maven Lorento. She, as he would later find, was as attractive as the rest of her family. He was sure she was probably even more so when her face wasn't swollen from crying.
Introducing himself, he asked if she could explain what had happened.
Bursting into a new flood of tears and with a heavy southern accent she cried, "Oh lawd! I cain't, I just cain't tell it again. He's daid!"
The rest of the women in the room made a move as a single mass in the direction of the bereaved woman.
Frank looked at one of the uniformed officers and moved his head to the back door leading to the yard. On cue, he and the officer opened their arms in a protective, gathering motion. "C'mon folks, don't you think you could use some fresh air? Those chairs in the shade in the yard sure look inviting. I know it's hard but we can talk better to y'all out there. Lieutenant Caine will talk with Ms. Maven here." He didn't usually lay his Texan on so thick except when necessity called for it, like now. Surrounding the group of five women with their arms, Frank and the uni herded them out the door.
Once they were alone, Horatio pulled up a chair so he could face the woman handing her a handkerchief as he did so. "Can you tell me who he is? Is he your son?" He had measured every word with forethought.
Pulled up short by the misidentification, the woman's teary eyes opened wide as did her mouth. "No! He's my nephew. Such a dear sweet boy. If my brother was still alive he'd be so sad!"
"What about his mother?"
"Oh, you mean Deeshawn's mother? She ran off years ago with some man when Deeshawn was two. We never knew why."
"How old is he?" Again, the misuse of the verb was to help her through the agonizing shock of the loss.
"He's…he was fourteen going on fifteen next month." Though a few tears kept leaking from her eyes, her voice was becoming stronger, more steady.
"What did you know about his friends?"
"Not much. My brother has only been dead for a couple of months. He was crossing a street, just minding his own business when a drunk driver hit him." Fresh tears flowed.
"Was the man caught?"
"Yes, tried and found guilty, but it ain't going to bring my brother back!"
"Is the man incarcerated?"
"No, it was his first offense and he got probation."
"So, is there any reason to think this might be retaliation?"
The woman's eyes seemed to be seeing for the first time since he had walked into the room. They wandered from the floor to the drawers under the sink to the refrigerator quietly humming in the corner. "No, I don't think so. I was at the man's trial and I don't think he had anyone but his lawyer with him. He was all weepy and all, saying how sorry he was, how he wished he could stop himself from drinking. Then, when the judge gave him the probation he went all weepy again.
"Anyhow, that's how long Deeshawn has been living with my daughter and me. My husband passed several years ago."
Seeing another possibility of a flood coming, Horatio skirted the issue of the dead husband. "Has Deeshawn said anything about school?"
"You mean anything bad like with teachers?" She looked up with worried brows slanted up. "No, he liked school. It's the same school he was in already. Leroy, my brother, Deeshawn's father, he lived a couple of blocks over on the other side of the school from us. Deeshawn, he made really good grades, was always on the honor list."
"Did he say anything about being bullied or pressured to join a gang?"
Maven put the handkerchief to face again in silent grief. When she recovered, she answered, "I'm sorry Detective…what was your name again?"
"Lieutenant Caine, Ma'am." Horatio recognized that she was going into shock, feeling the need to apologize for everything.
"I'm so sorry. I just don't know if I'm coming or going."
"I understand entirely. Now, what did you know about any peer pressure?"
"Peer…?" The word almost caught the agitated woman by surprise. "Oh, you mean the gang or bullying things? Why, I sure don't think so. He had a few friends from a math club he belonged to. They were all in the Honor Society too. I think they sort of protected each other from bullying, stayed together in hallways and walking each other to school. Mostly those three came to visit a couple of times a week. They liked playing games." The thought of her nephew's life forced tears from her eyes. "Oh, God, this is too much to bear!"
Horatio stood and gently put his hand on her shoulder. Bending down, he whispered quietly in her ear. "God never gives us more than we can handle."
Maven suddenly stood, whirled around and flung herself against Horatio, wrapping her arms around him. She buried her face into his jacket and wept uncontrollably. "That poor baby!" she wailed. "Leroy trusted his care to me and now he's dead!"
At that moment, Tripp entered from the back yard and only with great control saved himself from bursting into laughter. He had been in that same situation and had never known what to do; to see the usually taciturn lieutenant captured by the woman, the freckles on his dismayed face disappearing in a red glow that highlighted his eyes was something to behold. Seeing the flush increase at being caught by his presence Tripp came to and rushed to the man's aid.
"Ma'am, I think your family wants to be with you now. Come on, let me take you out back." He pried her grip loose, found the handkerchief tightly clasped in one hand, pulled it out and put it back. At the same time he put an arm gently around her shoulders and directed her to the back door. From the small back porch, he led her down the steps and across the yard to her family. As soon as she reached them, she disappeared in a circle her of their arms.
"I'll let you folks take care of her for a while. After a bit, we might need to ask you some more questions." He backed away as he spoke so as not to be pulled into the vortex of extreme loving care. He had several experiences in years past where he had stayed close to people taking care of their beloved bereaved and was taken into the group by gentle force. It was hard to extract one's self after that. With practice, he had found ways of staying away from such circles without being rude.
Inside the house, he found Horatio using some paper toweling to mop his jacket and shirt dry. "Thank you, Francis, that was smoothly done."
"I agree if I do say so myself. She caught you by surprise?"
Horatio beamed a rare smile, staring down at the floor. "She did."
"Been there, got the T-shirt, wore it out before I caught on how to see it coming."
"I thought I did by now. Obviously I need a refresher course."
"It couldn't have anything to do with your hair."
Horatio flicked his head to one side and bounced his eyebrows up and down a couple of times. "Living under it, I have a tendency to forget." He knew better than to say Frank might forget his bald pate once in a while. The man had had nothing more than a fringe around his head in the twelve years he had known him and often brought up the fact at the very mention of hair.
"I got her with her family now. I'd say give her half an hour. When you see a family member fussing in the kitchen, making tea or whatever, you know you can safely approach."
"That's good to know, thank you. I think I hear Eric and Mr. Wolfe out there so if you'll excuse me."
"Yeah, I'm going to go out front and see what I have to do. What do you want done if any of my guys finds a shell casing?"
"I'm assuming you have the front taped off?"
"I hope they did what I told them to. I have a couple of wet paints who were first to arrive on the scene. Once they confirmed the shooting, all they did was crowd control until I arrived; forgot every word of training they ever learned." The edges of Frank's mouth drew together.
Horatio nodded with understanding, having been 'wet paint' himself many years ago. The phrase was used to describe uniformed officers who were fresh out of police academy. Oh, the excitement and the pain of those days. He noticed Frank didn't sound all that angry as much as frustrated. No doubt he recalled his own days of forgetting the proper steps to sealing a crime scene.
"I'll be in the bedroom for a few minutes."
"I'll be out front for as long as it takes." The six foot, three inch detective took heavy strides towards the front door.
Horatio again took in the features large and small of the living room, hoping to notice anything out of place. There was nothing obvious in the clutter of everyday living except for the broken coffee cup in front of the couch. No doubt it had been dropped at the sound of the gun shot.
In the bedroom, the small form had already been removed and Eric and Ryan were beginning the laborious process of looking for clues in the boy's room.
Ryan was first to point out, "Horatio, this is really clean for a fourteen year old's room."
"That, Mr. Wolfe, is because he has only lived here for a month. He had lived with his father until he was killed by a drunk driver. The mother is out of the picture so he moved to live here with his aunt."
"It's bad enough to be shot but after that kind of misery, it's a shame," Eric pointed out.
"Well, it will be easier to process the room," Wolfe said grimly.
Eric gave the rookie CSI a sour look.
"The aunt mentioned that Deeshawn had three friends from a math club that came to visit."
"So he was a nerd?" asked Ryan with wide eyed interest.
"Hey, now they call them smart or even future CSIs," Eric said sternly.
"The point at the moment gentlemen is to find the fingerprints and anything else that might tell us why Deeshawn was shot."
Without another word, both men turned to their jobs at hand. When each looked up, one was surprised again that the boss was gone. Eric was used to the silent arrivals and departures. Ryan figured it was a show of his boss' disappointment in his hoof in mouth disease.
Horatio, far from thinking about Ryan, stepped out onto the wide front porch to observe what was going on in the front of the house. Now the yellow tape was wrapped from tree to bush, encompassing the entire front of the house. Frank was leaning against his car while watching several unis pacing slowly back and forth across the lawn and the grass between the sidewalk and the street. Horatio hoped they were searching for a bullet casing. There was no guarantee one could be found but he could wish for it. If found, it could be matched with the bullet in the boy's body and with the type of weapon used, then they would be closer to finding the gun and then the person who used it. To anyone not acquainted with modern scientific methods, this would probably seem unlikely. But then, back in the day when Dr. Lacassagne started solving murder cases in France by doing autopsies, studying the bullets taken from the bodies and their markings, examining stomach contents and so on people thought his solves were nothing short of miraculous. Later, his student, Edmond Locard would reminisce at great length about the love he and all of Lacassagne's students had for the great doctor and all he taught them. Locard then added to the general rules of looking for evidence by pointing out that no two surfaces contacted one another without each leaving a trace on the other.
Horatio tried to live up to those original teachings and precedents, never always feeling he did so. But then, one can widen the scope of such knowledge though only seldom improve on it.
The lanky red head was roused from his reverie when one of the young officers stopped and raised his arm with a call out to Tripp. "Here, sir.
Not looking hopeful, rather with a face that said he expected that the rookie had found a rock or a leaf, Frank trudged to the side of the freshly dressed man and squatted down. Standing, he motioned another officer with one hand filled with plastic markers and the other filled with numbered flags on wire sticks. Horatio could hear him instructing another officer to take a photo and then mark down what the item was with the number of the flag. Frank then caught Horatio's eye and nodded. The lieutenant almost breathed a sigh of relief even though it was too early for that.
A high pitched whistle made him turn to look through the screen door. He was rewarded with the sight of a woman in the kitchen gathering cups onto a tray with a pile of tea bags and containers for cream and sugar.
Passing by the bedroom, he looked in and only got negative shakes of two heads. He continued on.
"May I be of some assistance?" He had mastered the quiet, reassuring voice and the gentle smile, especially for women and children.
"Oh, I'm fine, I can handle it," the woman replied. Though her skin was lighter than Ms. Lorento's, the family resemblance was clear.
"Tell you what, I'll carry and you open the door. Then you can pour and serve."
A bit flustered, the gold in her prominent cheeks highlighted by a rosy glow, the woman nodded with a lovely smile. Once the pot of hot water was set on the tray, she went to the back door and held it wide. As Horatio stepped through the door, he knew she was looking over at the group with a grin.
"Ladies," he greeted them. After setting the tray on the end of the picnic table, he sat on the bench on the opposite side of table from the aunt.
While the women fluttered over the tea, serving themselves, dipping the bags, taking milk, sugar or nothing, Horatio looked at each of them, noting resemblances or lack, behavior under the stress of the moment and more. Seldom had he seen such an attractive family. For the most part, even the darkest face had a golden tint that came from deep underneath. More, he was fairly sure their hair wasn't wigs, and all of it was lustrous. The youngest seemed to be perhaps in her mid teens, who sat next to Ms. Lorento. From the way the woman frequently grasped at the girl's hand, he judged that the child was her daughter.
In answer to his thoughts, Maven said, "Lieutenant Caine, this is my daughter Teshonda."
Nodding in his best courtly manner, he acknowledged it was, "a pleasure."
"I'm really sad Deeshawn is dead. I always wanted a brother."
"I understand he was good in math."
"Yeah, he was younger but he could help me figure out calculus problems like it was nothing."
"He was younger? You seem to be pretty young."
Teshonda dipped her head bashfully but spoke with a sure tone. "I'm sixteen."
"Then you are very mature for your years," he smiled. Before she could answer, he went on, "Did you meet his math club friends?"
"Sometimes. They seemed to be afraid of me though and kept the door shut mostly."
"Oh baby," said her mother, "they were just shy, that's all. I guess it doesn't matter anymore, does it?"
When she saw her mother's eyes begin to well up, Teshonda immediately apologized and hugged her.
Seeing their heads rise, Horatio turned to see Frank coming through the side gate with some men. All of them had that 'time to interview the witnesses again' look. Horatio decided that there probably wouldn't be much more information he could get without knowing the right questions to ask he excused himself. Passing by Frank, he said quietly, "Eric and Mr. Wolfe haven't found much so far. Did your men find a weapon?"
Frank shook his head. "You'll know when I do."
When the team is finished here, I'll send them in search of the math club friends."
"Going to do a GSR test on kids?" The derisive tone showed his trust in CSI methods as opposed to plain police work.
"If I have reason to do so, Frank, I will."
Green eyes met blue in respectful standoff.
