Gwen Munch's Apartment


Olivia had found the superintendent of Gwen's building and explained the situation, so now she and a male and female uniformed officer were waiting outside Gwen's apartment door to go inside. They didn't hear anything, but still it made Olivia nervous to be entering the apartment and so everyone had they're guns drawn and at the ready. They made the usual sweep through the apartment looking for the perp, but came up empty.

"Well, looks like we can relax a little, thanks for coming with me though," Olivia said as she holstered her gun and walked the cops to the front door of the apartment.

"Don't you think maybe we should station somebody here at least until we either get the lock changed or locate the victim's keys?" the female officer asked.

"Yep, you read my mind. I'll let you two flip for who gets the front door and who gets to watch the fire escape," Olivia said with a smirk, as she started taking in the apartment.

The place was very much like the occupant, beautiful and charming with a hint of eccentricity and fragility. The foyer wall had a beautiful, but haunting photograph of a little girl, probably about 4 years old. She had auburn hair and blue eyes and that blush pink skin one only sees on children. She was dressed in a blue swimsuit and sandals and a smile. The only thing marring the photo was a woman in a sundress; from her coloring she was probably the little girl's mother. The woman was scowling at the child. It was hard to imagine what a little cherub such as seen in the picture could have done to deserve such a harsh look, and Olivia wondered why on earth Gwen would have the picture where she did.

As she moved into the living room, she could see at least one thing that John and Gwen must have shared, a passion for reading. There were books and magazines and newspapers everywhere. Not that the room was messy, just lived in by an avid reader. One whole wall of the living room, the largest one, was covered from floor to ceiling with loaded bookcases, and the books were clearly arranged by categories, eclectic categories at that, classic literature and poetry were followed directly by comparative religion, cuisine and conspiracy theories. That grouping of books had Olivia sorely tempted to check out the inside covers of a few to see if they were John's.

The furniture was comfy looking, a big couch with an afghan that absolutely had to be handmade, because no one would market something with that many bright colors in it. A coffee table for strewing magazines on, a couple of comfy chairs with floor lamps that you could position perfectly for reading or crafts, and another shelving arrangement, this one was more for holding potted plants and decorations, and what a friend of Olivia's charitably called collectibles, or not so charitably called bric-a-brac.

Something on that shelving unit caught Olivia's attention. It was a picture, one of those studio portrait package deals you sometimes get for graduation or some other special event, or just because it's been ages since you've had a portrait done. She wondered what special event had inspired this picture? It was of a much younger and more carefree John Munch. Olivia was probably prejudice, but she'd always thought John was pretty good looking in his own kind of way, but in this picture, he was seriously hot. She shook her head; she couldn't believe she'd just thought that, it was like thinking your big brother was hot. She'd best just get down to business. She came to get some clothes and makeup for Gwen, not go snooping through her stuff.

Olivia headed towards Gwen's bedroom, she tried to stop herself from analyzing this room too, but couldn't resist. She found it a bit austere, pretty much just the necessities, a bed, dresser, nightstand, an armoire, which she bet hid a TV and DVD player, and as her eyes scanned around the room they fell on another picture hanging on the wall, this one was of John and Gwen, it must have been taken by friends. The person with the camera had caught them in one of those wonderful moments of being a young couple in love. They were in a park somewhere with lush green grass and trees around them, sunshine streaming in through the canopy. John was standing behind Gwen with his arms wrapped around her looking down at her adoringly, and she had her face turned up and tilted back to see him better, the look of joy on her face was radiant. The picture was so wonderful Olivia almost expected to hear the sounds of the park and John and Gwen's voices.

She shook herself; she could not get wrapped up in her victim's past with her friend, as it would distract her from working the case. She started her search for Gwen's nightgown, finding it the first place she looked, under the pillow, and then headed off in search of her robe, a bit trickier, back of the door in the bathroom. She then gathered together some toiletries and makeup, and then started about the business of choosing a going home outfit for Gwen. Not an easy task when you are going through a stranger's wardrobe. She decided to keep it simple, and try to keep Gwen as covered up as possible to hide her bruises. She ended up with a nice light blue turtleneck sweater and some navy slacks, and she found some sensible flats in her closet that from the wear pattern looked to be favorites. She threw what she hoped were an everyday pair of undies, a bra and trouser socks into an overnight bag she had found in the closet, along with the sweater, slacks, shoes, nightgown, robe and makeup. She was just about to leave the bedroom when she remembered to check for slippers.

"OK, Olivia said out loud to herself, "I got the clothes, shoes, jammies, slippers, makeup, hair stuff, think 'Liv what are you forgetting?" she asked herself. She hit herself lightly in the forehead with her palm. "Sunglasses!"

"OK, if I were Gwen Munch where would I keep my sunglasses?" she asked herself.

"Probably in the purse that got stolen," she answered herself as she poked around in likely places.

Finally, she headed for the kitchen, thinking maybe Gwen might stash things on her kitchen table or near the coffee pot, and that's when she saw it, hanging by it's leather strap from one of the chairs at the kitchen table, Gwen's purse. She actually got a chill down her spine. They had walked right past it and not even noticed it was there. Three trained investigators had seen a woman's purse hanging from its strap in the kitchen of her apartment, and somehow forgotten that the perp had stolen her purse.

She tried not to berate herself or the other officers after all, usually if a rapist has the victim's purse and keys, you don't expect him to come back and just drop them off, no fuss, no muss. You expect the apartment to be ransacked, vandalized, for there to be a further violation of the victim through the destruction of her property. That this perp hadn't done that scared Olivia even more, it suggested to her a deeper, more sinister motive.

She reached in her pockets for gloves so she could pick up the purse without contaminating evidence, but then she thought better of it. What if the purse is booby trapped somehow? Picking it up could be a big mistake and her last. She decided she better call in CSU, and even though it sounded paranoid, she'd call the bomb squad, they could deal with it, and then laugh at her later if it turned out to be nothing.