Beauty Can Be Deadly
Chapter 7
A rookie mistake, Steve screamed at himself as he ran towards the bus. He reached the scene just before Cheryl and looked up into the stunned face of the bus driver as he stood in the doorway of the bus. "She ran right out in front of me, I couldn't stop."
"I know, we saw everything," Cheryl responded as Steve moved on past the door towards the front on the bus. "I'm Detective Cheryl Banks and that was my partner, Lieutenant Steve Sloan. Just stay on the bus for a moment." She then dialed 911 to request an ambulance.
As she hung up the phone, she moved to the front of the bus. Steve had crawled up underneath it and was assessing the condition of their suspect. "She's still alive, Cheryl," he informed her.
"Can I do anything?" Cheryl asked.
As Steve started to respond, a bloody hand grabbed his lapel and he looked down to see that her eyes were open. She went to talk but all that escaped from her mouth was a gurgling sound. She then went limp and the hand dropped from Steve's lapel. "I think we just lost her," Steve informed her. In the distance he could hear the sounds of a siren.
~~****~~
Steve sat alone in the Doctors lounge at Community General waiting for Amanda. It was 9:00am. He had finally sent Cheryl home at about 4:00am when they had finished the paperwork at the precinct. He doubted that he would have been able to sleep, so he had stayed and read through more of the background checks. Everyone else seemed positive that they had their murderer; he just wanted to be sure. None of the other contestants had her criminal background and why had she run? So why was this bothering him? Was it because he hadn't covered the back window and she had got away? Was it because she was dead? All those questions remained unanswered as the door opened and he saw the face of his father.
"Good Morning, Dad," Steve greeted.
"Hello, Son, you didn't come home last night and you didn't call," Mark stated somewhat accusingly.
Steve had to grin. Some things would never change and he didn't want them to. "I'm sorry, Dad. Cheryl and I went to interview a suspect last night. She ran on us. Unfortunately for her, she ran right into the path of a bus. I came here because Amanda should have the autopsy on Topaz Gem the contestant who was murdered yesterday done, and I thought she might have some preliminary information on Margie Sullivan, our suspect."
Mark, knowing his son as well as he did, knew there was more going on. "So are you not convinced she was the murderer?" Mark asked intuitively.
Steve didn't know how he did it. "Yeah Dad, I guess I'm not 100% sold on her as the culprit. She was small, probably the smallest competitor. Attacking someone with a weapon can even things up considerably, but none of these murders were committed with a weapon. Based on the positions of the finger marks on Jordan Maxwell's shoulder her assailant was as tall, or taller than her. Margie Sullivan was much shorter. I also don't know if she would have had the strength to topple the scenery that killed Topaz Gem."
Mark rubbed his chin as he contemplated Steve's comments. "I know you're coming home tonight, why don't you bring the files home and we will take a look at them."
"You know I'm coming home tonight?" Steve questioned humorously. "How do you know that?"
"Because your father says you are. You need a good nights sleep tonight. You have to look your best for the pageant tomorrow night."
~~****~~
As Steve got out of his car and headed into the precinct, he reviewed what Amanda had told him. Both Topaz Gem and Margie Sullivan had died of massive internal injuries. Neither autopsy had provided any new facts. He sighed as he neared the door and entered the office. Once again he was greeted with whispers and snickers. Oh no, please not again, he thought. Steve approached his desk apprehensively. Ok, so far so good it's just a basket. He walked around his desk and looked into the basket. Oh, I was so wrong. Nestled amongst multi colored tissue paper was a black silk bathrobe adorned with a generous amount of red hearts. Further examination revealed a matching pair of boxer shorts. Separating the two garments was a bottle of Armani cologne. This time the card lay on top and stated simply. 'This is how I want you to look and smell.' Steve slumped is his chair as if he had taken a punch to the stomach. I have to find out who is doing this. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat.
"Good Morning, Steve," Cheryl greeted softly.
"Cheryl, what no ribbing no comments?" he asked.
"Naw, I figure even you deserve a
break every now and then. Besides the
wolves are waiting to descend," she said as she gestured over her shoulder to
the detectives who stood waiting with gleeful grins on their faces. "I think a couple of the female officers are
hoping you might model your new attire."
"Fat chance," was his rather terse response. The sound of skidding shoes on the linoleum floor got his attention as Jesse came sliding into the squad room.
"Oh, you're already here," he stated with a crestfallen expression.
"Yes, I'm here. I work here. The question is what are you doing here?" Steve asked with an arched eyebrow.
"Uh….well…," he looked to Cheryl for help.
"You're on your own, I told you not to come down here," Cheryl responded.
"Well, Steve, we just haven't been able to see much of each other lately and I just wanted to drop by and say hi," he completed with a smile.
"Yeah, right, you came by to see the latest gift," was the gruff response.
"Oh, you got another gift?" was the innocent question. "Well, since I'm here it would be rude if I didn't look. Let me see!"
The sound that came from behind the desk was a cross between an enraged bear and a hissing snake. The roar of anger was followed by a rapid release of breath.
Jesse jumped in spite of himself. He wasn't afraid of Steve, but he knew in that moment how some of the criminals Steve had pursued felt. He didn't get to consider the thought any further because he was first dodging the contents of the basket and then the basket itself. He heard the bottle of cologne shatter on the wall behind him and then felt the spray as it showered down his neck and the back of his shirt.
Everyone in the squad room stood in shocked silence. Steve was standing with his hands resting on the top of his desk. Cheryl wore an expression of utter disbelief and the other detectives looked as if they were wishing for a hole to open in the floor for them to disappear into.
"That was a waste of some good cologne," was Jesse's comment as he broke the uncomfortable silence. "That stuff goes for $60 a bottle. Instead of showering me with it, you could have just given it to me."
The sound started low in his throat and then moved into a chuckle before becoming a full fledged laugh. Steve sat back down at his desk. His laughter broke the spell and the others joined in. "Leave it to you, Jesse, leave it to you."
Cheryl shook her head and joined in with the laughter. The explosion had been coming and it hadn't been as bad as she expected. Thank goodness for Jesse Travis.
~~****~~
Steve arrived home around 6:00pm. He opened the door and breathed deeply. Smells like burgers! "Dad, I'm home."
"Steve, I'm in the kitchen," Mark called.
Steve moved up the stairs and laid the folders he had brought home on the coffee table. He then moved into the kitchen. "What's for dinner," he asked.
"Well my gourmet challenged son, I'm having you're favorite. Burger's and fries. It should be done in about 10 minutes."
"Yum, smells good," Steve replied. "How was your day?"
"Fine, I thought we were going to have to fumigate the hospital. Jesse came in smelling like he had been in an explosion at a perfume factory. You wouldn't know anything about that would you?" Mark asked keenly.
"Why no, Dad, maybe he got carried away with his cologne this morning," Steve responded innocently.
"Uh huh, so did you bring the robe and the boxer's home?" Mark inquired.
The cloud that descended over Steve's face would have struck fear into others. Mark just smiled pleasantly and waited for a response.
"No, I did not bring the robe and the boxer's home, as far as I know they are in the dumpster at the precinct. Can we please talk about something else?"
"Sure," Mark responded. "Was the basket nice?"
"Oh, real funny, Dad, you and Jesse should work up a routine together. I'm sure you could sell 4 or 5 tickets," Steve responded huffily.
"Steve, I have tried to tell you that you are taking this way too seriously. We are just trying to get you to lighten up.
~~****~~
Dinner and the dishes were done and Mark and Steve sat side by side on the couch looking through the folders on each murder and the death of Margie Sullivan.
"So what's troubling you about Margie Sullivan being the murderer?" Mark inquired.
Steve reiterated the doubts he had shared with his father earlier in the day. "Dad, I know this will sound crazy but I just don't think it was her. It's just a feeling I have nothing to back it up. The captain is ready to close the case and I'm just not comfortable with that."
"Steve, you should always trust your instincts, they have never failed you before. The captain closing a case has never stopped us from working on it anyway," Mark responded cheekily.
Steve smiled in agreement. "Well, I guess I better go unpack my tuxedo out of mothballs." After tomorrow night I can at least be done with a portion of this mess. I'll see you in the morning. Goodnight, Dad."
