If Damien expected me to take good notes he had another thing coming. I had
no idea what was going on in class in my attempts to figure out what he had
seen and I hadn't. I was counting the fact that he had spent the night in
research as an unfair advantage in his favor. By the time I got to the
police station I was completely confused.
"All right," I said as I found him in the lobby, "you have got some explaining to do."
"My pleasure," came the smooth reply.
I followed him back to a holding room and sat down to wait. Soon two police officers came in with a young man in between them. Chief Hawthorne followed. The young man looked about twenty and had a red face from exertion and panic. He had shaggy brown hair and long fingers that looked like they hadn't seen a trim in a while. He sat down in the chair across from us. I shot a look over to Sherlock.
"This," he said, "is Garret Freeman. Mr. Freeman has already confessed, but maybe he would like to clear things up a bit."
The man squirmed around a bit, lit a cigarette, then finally started talking.
"I didn't kill Daniel. He shot himself. It was gang rules."
Freeman squirmed in his chair again, seeming at a loss to explain himself. Sherlock took the hint and prompted him.
"Why did you kill Mr. Goodland and Mr. Michaels," he asked, "or should I explain?"
"I was part of the Scorpions," Freeman began, "so where Daniel and Allen. We were gang buddies and all, but I met a girl. Her name was Sierra. Her brother was in the Eastenders, so obviously a romance between me and her wasn't going to fly with the guys. I wanted to leave the gang so I could be with her, but they wouldn't let me. Finally one day I just walked out on them. The next day Sierra was dead in gang crossfire."
Freeman was obviously emotional by this point in his narrative.
"They couldn't prove who had shot her," he said, "but I knew. Another gang member told me afterward. Allen and Daniel had both been there and they had both let it happen."
He looked up painfully at Sherlock.
"I loved her," was all he said.
"But you didn't kill Goodland," Sherlock said.
"No," Freeman started again, "I cornered him in the apartment and demanded retribution. Gang rules are fate chooses the guilty. So you load only one bullet in the chamber and see who gets it."
"Russian roulette," I put in.
Freeman nodded.
"Only Michaels was too afraid to carry through with it so you shot him," Sherlock finished.
Freeman hung his head.
"He came at me," he said, "the gun went off and he was dead. I don't know why I put 'RACHE' on the wall. I guess in the back of my mind I thought someone would think it was a gang hit. When Daniel died I accidentally dropped a ring Sierra had given me. I was so upset I tried to go back in to get it but I saw the landlady there already."
"I think that's enough," Chief Hawthorne broke in.
With that Freeman was lead out of the room by the police officers.
"All right," I said turning to Damien, "what did you see that I didn't."
He grinned like a master magician about to reveal his tricks.
"A newspaper article really," he said, "I know a thing or two about gang rules, so when I saw that the first killing was a suicide, I immediately thought about a retribution rite. Sort of like dueling. When I found out the second victim it all sort of clicked. There were accounts in the paper about a girl getting killed in gang crossfire and Goodland and Michaels were specifically pointed out as suspects, but no one could place them so they got off. It also said that the girl killed was related to a boy from the rival gang. I first thought it was the brother, but he never would have gotten Goodland to shoot himself. That left someone in the Scorpions, who knew Goodland, to carry out retribution. It didn't take a whole lot of asking around to find out that Freeman had recently left the gang over girl trouble."
Sherlock smiled.
"Amazing what you can learn when you have a gang member or two cornered at the station. They were only too willing to answer any questions the police had."
Chief Hawthorne beamed at Sherlock.
"Good job boy. You saved us a lot of trouble," he said, "I expect the results will come back conclusively when the DNA sample from the blood is matched to Freeman."
Damien nodded.
"Not bad," I admitted as we walked back to the cars, "you did solve that one, but our project is supposed to be an unsolved murder. You just ruined it."
He shrugged.
"We can always do Jack the Ripper like everyone else," he said, then grinned, "you have to admit actually solving something is more fun."
I could only nod.
"So," he said, a little awkwardly, "you want to meet to do this project sometime?"
I realized Sherlock didn't have much social grace and this might be his best attempt at keeping a friend. He was infuriating, smart mouthed, and arrogant, but he looked lonely too, and truth to tell, I was kinda lonely. I just hoped I didn't act the same way in public.
"Yeah," I said, "I'd love to. Meet you around 5 tomorrow?"
"You're on."
~Finis~
A/N
I've had so much fun writing this one, and y'all have been such nice reviewers, I'm going to keep going with this Damien/Shelley story line. Keep up the reviews, without them I don't know how I'm doing.
~ Anarkyn AKA the real Damien Holmes
"All right," I said as I found him in the lobby, "you have got some explaining to do."
"My pleasure," came the smooth reply.
I followed him back to a holding room and sat down to wait. Soon two police officers came in with a young man in between them. Chief Hawthorne followed. The young man looked about twenty and had a red face from exertion and panic. He had shaggy brown hair and long fingers that looked like they hadn't seen a trim in a while. He sat down in the chair across from us. I shot a look over to Sherlock.
"This," he said, "is Garret Freeman. Mr. Freeman has already confessed, but maybe he would like to clear things up a bit."
The man squirmed around a bit, lit a cigarette, then finally started talking.
"I didn't kill Daniel. He shot himself. It was gang rules."
Freeman squirmed in his chair again, seeming at a loss to explain himself. Sherlock took the hint and prompted him.
"Why did you kill Mr. Goodland and Mr. Michaels," he asked, "or should I explain?"
"I was part of the Scorpions," Freeman began, "so where Daniel and Allen. We were gang buddies and all, but I met a girl. Her name was Sierra. Her brother was in the Eastenders, so obviously a romance between me and her wasn't going to fly with the guys. I wanted to leave the gang so I could be with her, but they wouldn't let me. Finally one day I just walked out on them. The next day Sierra was dead in gang crossfire."
Freeman was obviously emotional by this point in his narrative.
"They couldn't prove who had shot her," he said, "but I knew. Another gang member told me afterward. Allen and Daniel had both been there and they had both let it happen."
He looked up painfully at Sherlock.
"I loved her," was all he said.
"But you didn't kill Goodland," Sherlock said.
"No," Freeman started again, "I cornered him in the apartment and demanded retribution. Gang rules are fate chooses the guilty. So you load only one bullet in the chamber and see who gets it."
"Russian roulette," I put in.
Freeman nodded.
"Only Michaels was too afraid to carry through with it so you shot him," Sherlock finished.
Freeman hung his head.
"He came at me," he said, "the gun went off and he was dead. I don't know why I put 'RACHE' on the wall. I guess in the back of my mind I thought someone would think it was a gang hit. When Daniel died I accidentally dropped a ring Sierra had given me. I was so upset I tried to go back in to get it but I saw the landlady there already."
"I think that's enough," Chief Hawthorne broke in.
With that Freeman was lead out of the room by the police officers.
"All right," I said turning to Damien, "what did you see that I didn't."
He grinned like a master magician about to reveal his tricks.
"A newspaper article really," he said, "I know a thing or two about gang rules, so when I saw that the first killing was a suicide, I immediately thought about a retribution rite. Sort of like dueling. When I found out the second victim it all sort of clicked. There were accounts in the paper about a girl getting killed in gang crossfire and Goodland and Michaels were specifically pointed out as suspects, but no one could place them so they got off. It also said that the girl killed was related to a boy from the rival gang. I first thought it was the brother, but he never would have gotten Goodland to shoot himself. That left someone in the Scorpions, who knew Goodland, to carry out retribution. It didn't take a whole lot of asking around to find out that Freeman had recently left the gang over girl trouble."
Sherlock smiled.
"Amazing what you can learn when you have a gang member or two cornered at the station. They were only too willing to answer any questions the police had."
Chief Hawthorne beamed at Sherlock.
"Good job boy. You saved us a lot of trouble," he said, "I expect the results will come back conclusively when the DNA sample from the blood is matched to Freeman."
Damien nodded.
"Not bad," I admitted as we walked back to the cars, "you did solve that one, but our project is supposed to be an unsolved murder. You just ruined it."
He shrugged.
"We can always do Jack the Ripper like everyone else," he said, then grinned, "you have to admit actually solving something is more fun."
I could only nod.
"So," he said, a little awkwardly, "you want to meet to do this project sometime?"
I realized Sherlock didn't have much social grace and this might be his best attempt at keeping a friend. He was infuriating, smart mouthed, and arrogant, but he looked lonely too, and truth to tell, I was kinda lonely. I just hoped I didn't act the same way in public.
"Yeah," I said, "I'd love to. Meet you around 5 tomorrow?"
"You're on."
~Finis~
A/N
I've had so much fun writing this one, and y'all have been such nice reviewers, I'm going to keep going with this Damien/Shelley story line. Keep up the reviews, without them I don't know how I'm doing.
~ Anarkyn AKA the real Damien Holmes