The uniformed officer stepped closer to the passenger side door of the tan LTD as it opened and the grim-faced, fedora-clad lieutenant climbed out, acknowledging his grey-haired colleague with a curt nod.
"Lieutenant," Sergeant Casselman grunted, frowning, as Mike Stone slammed the door and fell into step beside him as they started across the sidewalk and up the short set of concrete steps towards the open front door of the large, obviously expensive house.
Behind his dark glasses, Inspector Steve Keller glanced up and down 25th Street, the normally quiet tree-lined avenue now crowded with cruisers and uniformed officers as he followed his partner. It was an unusual scene in the upscale Sea Cliff neighbourhood, he knew; they were not used to seeing so many police cars on their streets. Several uniformed officers were keeping the ever-growing crowd of concerned neighbours at bay.
"This is a bad one, Mike," Casselman acknowledged as they mounted the stairs and, passing between the two officers guarding the front door, stepped into the large foyer.
With a quiet nod, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Steve was behind him, Mike led the way into the living room. The younger man had taken off his glasses and stuffed them into the breast pocket of his brown tweed jacket. Casselman remained near the front door as the two Homicide officers moved slowly into the living room of the exquisitely appointed home. "No one's been in here since the first two responding officers cleared the place…" he informed them as moved slowly deeper into the house. "The lab boys are on their way…"
Without looking back, Mike nodded his acknowledgement as they stopped just shy of the huge Persian rug that almost filled the large room. Steve could hear his partner inhale deeply as they took in the scene before them.
A dark-haired woman about Steve's age, wearing a brown and beige paisley shift and black flats lay on her right side, almost in a fetal position, on the rug in front of the large floral sofa. Her head was turned up, her dry milky-white eyes staring unseeing at the ceiling. There was a large bloodstain on her chest and a small pool on the rug underneath her.
In the nearby recliner sat a dark-haired man of a similar age, wearing a yellow golf shirt, beige shorts, sandals and black-rimmed glasses. His left arm was resting in his lap, his right dangling over the side of the chair; his head was down, his chin on his chest, an obvious bullet wound on the right side of head at the temple.
Steve got down on his hands and knees and put the side of his head against the floor, looking across the rug. He studied it for several beats before getting back to his feet, glancing at the older man beside him. "I can't see any prints but I'll leave that for the lab guys."
Pursing his lips, his eyes not leaving the disturbing scene before them, Mike nodded. He turned his head slightly and in a flash Casselman was once more beside him. The sergeant nodded towards the far side of the room. "This way…" he said softly and started around the edge of the rug towards a hallway to their right.
Silently, the three police officers, the sergeant leading the way, moved down the short corridor to the last door on the right. Casselman stopped and looked back at the detectives. His mouth a grim line, he raised his eyebrows and tilted his head. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the white door open then took a step back into the hallway, averting his eyes, allowing the other two to step into the doorway.
A baby crib stood against the far wall. From the doorway, and from the light streaming in through the open curtains of the large window, they could see the small unmoving body and the shocking deep red stain on the light blue onesie and white blanket in the middle of the crib. Mike inhaled sharply and held his breath; his jaw clenched. Steve closed his eyes and dropped his head, his hands balling into fists.
The faint sound of a siren reached their ears.
The older man sighed loudly, not taking his eyes from the crib. He took a step back and looked at the sergeant, who was staring at the floor, his anger obvious in every fibre of his tense body.
"Let's get out of here and let the lab guys do their job," the lieutenant said quietly and Casselman nodded, falling into step between the two detectives as Mike led the way back into living room. As they crossed around the rug towards the door, they heard the siren fall silent; stepping out into the bright morning sunshine, they watched as both doors of the black van opened and two lab techs circled to the back of the van and opened the doors.
"I've got this," Cssselman said as he stepped off the stairs and started towards the van.
"Who was first on the scene?" Mike asked to the retreating sergeant.
Casselman looked back. "Porter and Washington." He nodded towards two uniformed officers standing near the black-and-white parked at the curb directly in front of the house before continuing on to the black van.
With a nod, Mike, his partner behind him, jogged down the steps and crossed to the curb. "Porter and Washington?", he asked and the two large, well-built officers turned towards him. It was obvious they were both rattled by what they had witnessed.
"Yes, sir," the black patrolman responded and Mike glanced at his nameplate.
"Officer Washington, I'm Lieutenant Stone, Homicide -" Mike began but Washington cut him off with a soft smile and a glance at Porter.
"We know who you are, sir," he said with a respectful nod.
Mike managed a tiny smile of his own as he glanced at Steve, then nodded his thanks. "Ah, can you walk us through what you found when you got here?"
Porter nodded. "Yes, sir. Well, we got a call from dispatch that a lady had reported finding three bodies in a house. We were just a few blocks away and we got here pretty fast." The young blond officer paused and took a deep breath. He looked shaken.
Washington, realizing his partner's difficulty, picked up the narrative after shooting the younger man a concerned glance. "Ah, when we got here those two ladies over there…". He pointed to his right and both detectives turned their heads to see a middle-aged blond woman and a younger Hispanic woman, both of them still looking distraught, being interviewed by another uniformed officer. When Mike looked back, nodding, Washington continued, "And they said they'd found three bodies in the house. They'd gone in the back door when they got no response; they said they thought something was wrong when no one answered the door when they got here around 9."
"Who are they?" Steve asked, gesturing towards the women with a tilt of his head.
Porter, who had pulled himself together, cleared his throat. "Ah, the blond woman is a neighbour," he pointed at the large house across the street, "and younger woman is her housekeeper."
Nodding, Mike focused on the younger patrolman, knowing from long experience that keeping him talking would help him start to come to grips with what he had just witnessed. "What did you do when you got here?"
"Well, we, ah, we entered the house through the back door that the neighbour used… the front door was still locked. We found the man and woman in the living room - they were both obviously deceased, and then we checked out all the other rooms. That's when we found, ah… we found the baby…" Porter's face began to crumble again and Washington's hand shot out, grabbing his forearm and squeezing.
The black patrolman looked at the detectives and raised his eyebrows. "He and his wife just had a baby," he said almost under his breath, and both detectives nodded sympathetically.
Mike took a half-step forward and put a hand on Porter's shoulder. "That's okay, son, we can take it from here." He looked at Washington and half-smiled. "Why don't you two finish up with your shift commander and go back downtown?"
Washington flashed him a grateful smile, pulling his partner towards their car as Mike and Steve turned back towards the house. The lab techs had already disappeared inside; the crime scene photographer had arrived while they had been talking to the patrolmen and was also in the house.
Mike glanced at his partner as they crossed to the steps. Steve could see the fury behind the blue eyes and knew the older man was keeping a very tight hold on his emotions right now. In all the years they had been together, Steve knew that nothing disturbed and enraged his partner more than the murder of a child. And until they discovered and arrested whoever was responsible, he knew Mike wouldn't rest. He could only hope it would be sooner than later.
As they got to the door, Steve heard another vehicle approach. He turned to see the black Coroner's van pull up and stop as close to the curb as possible. He reached out and grabbed Mike's sleeve, pulling the older man up short. As Mike turned, Steve pointed at the new arrival and he felt rather than saw his partner deflate in frustration.
Bernie had taken a year-long sabbatical to study forensic pathology at Scotland Yard in London, and the police chief and mayor had been beside themselves when they had announced that the renowned former Chief Medical Examiner for the City and County of Los Angeles, John G. McDonnell, had agreed to come out of retirement to man the position on an interim basis.
McDonnell and Mike didn't get along, and hadn't since the first time they met. It wasn't even over a case, Steve mused; it was just a departmental meet-and-greet but the animosity between the two men was obvious from the get-go. When asked about it later, Mike had confessed that he couldn't put his finger on a reason but he just didn't trust the man. Gut instinct, he had put it down to, and he couldn't shake the feeling that it was going to be a rocky year for the Homicide squad if the heads of both departments didn't get along. Up until now, Mike had let Steve handle any dealings with the coroner's office, but both of them knew that this case would probably be different.
They watched as the driver's door opened and Peter Murphy, Bernie's assistant, slid out of the van. Both detectives instinctively exhaled in relief.
"I hear this is a bad one," Murphy smiled woodenly as he joined them on the landing outside the front door.
Steve nodded. "Yeah, there's a baby in there."
Murphy closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. "God damn it," he muttered quietly then opened his eyes and looked at Mike. "Where do you want me to start, Lieutenant?"
Mike, whose silence was speaking volumes, nodded over his shoulder towards the house. "Start with the husband. You're gonna have to wait till the lab boys are finished with the carpet but I want you to start with him."
Murphy nodded. "Okay." Taking a deep breath, he stepped over the threshold and into the house.
The detectives hesitated on the landing. They knew they had to wait till the lab techs were finished and all the photographs taken before they could start to break the scene down.
Steve looked at his partner. "So, ah, from what we've seen so far, what do you think?"
Staring into space, his thoughts obviously in the nursery and the horror that awaited them there, Mike turned his incredibly sad blue eyes on the younger man. "First blush?", he asked rhetorically. "Well, it looks like a murder-suicide to me." He paused and swallowed heavily. "But what kind of monster kills his own baby?"