Questionable Calls
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Note: Frustration with human nature along with some boredom drove me to write this. To the person whose comment started this story. (Was that one serious, or just mocking me?)
Some characters don't come off to well in this, if that bothers you, don't read. Now, on with it:
The house was in a middle-class neighbour hood. It was rather run-down compared with the neighbouring houses. Instead of a front lawn, which in the arid Las Vegas climate required constant irrigation, the owner had simply decorated the area with large stones. Even from the distance of the sidewalk one could see that the windows were dirty and had not been washed in years.
"Why would she hire a domestic? Judging by the looks of this, Catherine waved her had at the house, the winning the beautiful home award isn't one of Mrs Jansen's priorities."
"Well, maybe she wanted to improve on it and Nura Fadira didn't live up to her expectations" Brass theorized sarcastically. "If we are lucky, she hasn't yet gotten rid of the couch."
"Let's hope not" Nick walked up to the front door and rang the bell. The door was opened promptly by a woman in her 40ties, wearing a morning robe, looking like she had just gotten out of bed.
"Mrs. Jansen, we have a warrant to search your residence", Brass handed the document to the not very amused looking Mrs. Jansen.
"Do what you have to do", she said in a neutral tone, not even taking a look at the document.
She let them in, closing the door behind them.
"We will need to have a look at your couch, Mrs Jansen." Nick said.
"It's right in the living room. This way." Mrs. Jansen indicated the way.
Catherine, Nick and Brass walked down the corridor into the spacious living room.
Something in Mrs Jansen demeanour struck Nick as odd. It was something in her voice. He had had many dealings with suspects, both the innocent and the guilty, but this was different, a calm and somewhat resigned.
While he had been pondering, Catherine and Brass had proceeded to the large beige couch standing at the centre of the room. The couch had two drawers in the base, allowing to store pillows and the like. If their suspicions were right, Mrs. Jansen had stored more then pillows there however. The fibre they had found in the wounds of a dead young woman indicated that she had been here. Mrs Jansen had claimed that the victim, Nura Fadira, had not been at her residence for months, but the evidence was telling a different story.
Catherine examined the fabric of the couch, which was already thready and worn. Mrs. Jansen stood next to them, her face calm. When Brass pulled open the drawer of the couch, everything spun out of control.
Note: Sorry, very short chapter, but it makes more sense that way.