The Memory of Murder

By E.M. Megs

Chapter 2 – Murder

She swallowed back the bile that rose in her throat from the sharp, tangy smell of blood and the garbage-esque one of decomposing flesh. She didn't say anything as she took in the scene before her. Her partner squatted next to the body and stared into the man's face. "Ray Takahashi," she told him. He didn't reply, just continued to stare at the corpse on the kitchen floor. "Something wrong, Kyoya?" she called with a twinkling smile. His own lips curved upward as though he had some kind of secret.

"No," he replied simply. She felt as though there were more that he wanted to say but when he didn't continue, she just let it go.

"Second body!" an officer yelled from another room. "Female! Possibly the wife!"

The speed that Kyoya reacted to that statement frightened her a bit. It was almost as if he were gleeful. She followed him back at a much slower pace. When she reached him she was surprised that he had a small smile on his face.

Something was wrong here. Terribly wrong.

Sprawled out on the bed, half naked, in front of them was a woman soaked ungraciously in her own blood, identical wounds to her husband's and her 3 piece suit shredded and strewn about the room.

She let out a gasp as she recognized the face. "Is that… Chiyoko Takahashi?"

"Is it?" Kyoya countered nonchalantly.

"If it is we're gonna have one hell of a time telling her current clients the news."

"Don't rush yourself, Haruhi, dearest."

She scowled at the pet name attached to her given one. "Kyoya, we're working. Now is hardly the time nor the place," she scolded, remaining straight-faced although she could feel the blood starting to rise in her cheeks.

"And I'm the uptight serious one?" he snorted.

"Kyoya," she said in a warning voice, eyes now set to a glare.

"Relax," he murmured, "I doubt anyone's going to even notice." Though even he took a glance at the new sheriff that had replaced Ken almost a year ago. She was not so lenient towards relationships in the workplace. Not to mention she hated Kyoya's what she called, "Hot shot behavior" of thinking he had the entire department wrapped around his finger, which he knew of course that he did not.

"If Takikara…"

"I know."

She gave him one last stern look, not even bothering to complete her sentence since they both knew how it ended. If Takikara caught them she could split up their partnership. They weren't supposed to be together, according to her standards. She had threatened it before, saying that it was both bad form and could entice bad judgment in the field.

They'd never seen it that way.

Kyoya especially hadn't. Though he and Haruhi had been living together for three years, away from home they were strictly partners, as Haruhi had just reminded him. To Takikara, they had broken up, to everyone else, they worked, lived, for each other.

"I take pictures here, you there?" she asked hesitantly, getting to work right away. He merely nodded and returned to the previous room.

He looked again. Blood pooled around his head from the gunshot wound placed just between the top of his ear and temple. It soaked into the skin of his shirtless torso. His eyes were shut, the gun that had inflicted the wound just feet from his clenched fingers. Kyoya stood for a long time examining the corpse without moving.

"Kyoya?" She noticed that he almost jumped out of his trance at the sound of her voice. She touched his shoulder gently in a simple gesture of concern. "Are you sure nothing's wrong? You've been standing there like you've seen a ghost for the past 10 minutes." He turned in his pot to stare her in the eyes. Those milk chocolate amber eyes that so clearly spoke of concern for him.

"I'm fine," he murmured. She bit her lip, not quite sure if she should believe him when he said, "If anything serious were wrong, I'd tell you. Just have a slight headache is all." His voice was gentle but she still stared at him suspiciously for several moments.

"Okay," she finally whispered, turning away. She trusted him enough that he would tell her later.

"Looks like a suicide, Haruhi," Kyoya called her back with a dry mouth.

She looked back at him with a grim smile. "Kyoya… You more than anyone should know better than to assume suicide." Her eyes twinkled sadly.

He scowled at her. "Just calling it as I see it, Haruhi. Preliminary guess."

"Wife was definitely a homicide. Shot straight between the eyes."

"Homicide-suicide then. Interesting. Been awhile since we've had one of those, huh, Haruhi?"

She wasn't smiling now, but grimacing. His own slight cheerfulness also disappeared.

This was not something to rejoice.

~o~

A/N: Feel free to share theories with me. I've been watching Sherlock (which I love. Especially the fact that Benedict Cumberbatch plays Sherlock. He's so GOOD). Someday, I'm going to meet Mark Gatniss and grill him on how he writes that show so well. WHY CAN'T I WRITE SOMETHING THAT AMAZING? I've also decided that I hate television networks for getting me hooked on amazing shows and then making me wait a year for the new season to come out. That's just unfair.

Kudos to: lilsketcher617, isara-love, and KikiHitachiinTheOuranOtaku.