Yellow Tape Surprises
The sedan pulled up to the front of the row house. The yellow tape across the door was strangely bright in the overcast. The storm had lingered for two days and the plows were just getting to the side streets. A tall man got out of the car and shrugged deeper into his topcoat. It was still bitingly cold. The neighbors were watching from their windows. It was too cold and there was still too much snow on the sidewalks to venture out. Some people used the pretext of shoveling their steps and walk to see what was going on, but this was Georgetown. It didn't usually snow this much, nor was it usually this cold so the Nosy Neds didn't last long outside.
"Lieutenant" said the officer on duty at the front door. He opened the front door to let the man pass, then went back to moving from foot to foot and slapping his arms trying to keep warm. The lieutenant entered the front room and briefly conferred with another officer, then he climbed the stairs to the scene of the crime.
"Dugrey.." said the medical examiner.
"Hello Max." he replied with a weary smile. "Do you have any information for me?"
"Yes. She died of asphyxia, strangled with a garrote" He said and showed the deep purple line around the girl's throat. Her facial features were still in a mask of fear and death.
"Do you have a time of death?" he asked as he looked around the room. There were signs of a brief, fruitless struggle.
"Yes, she died between 36 and 48 hours ago. The power failure during the storm and lack of heat in the house caused her body to cool more quickly. I won't know for sure until the autopsy." Max replied as he packed up his equipment.
"Is there any information on her identity?" Lt. Dugrey asked.
"According to the mail found on the desk her name is Gilmore, Lorelei Gilmore."
Tristan Dugrey, a lieutenant with the Washington Police, former Army lieutenant and survivor of the wars in the Mideast stopped short. "What did you say?"
"Her name is Lorelei Gilmore." Max repeated. He stopped to stare at his friend. "Do you know her?"
"I used to, many years ago." He said softly. He looked closer at the things around the room and zoomed in on a picture on the desk. There she was, those unbelievable blue eyes, that long brown hair, in a picture with her mother. Tristan remembered both of the Gilmore girls from those days oh so long ago.
"How long ago?" Max pressed. He had never seen his friend act like this before.
Tristan stared into space. "High school. She was the one that got away Max." he replied.
"Sorry my friend. It appears she was unable to get away this time." He said and left the room, pausing to pat his friend on the shoulder in consolation. The medical technicians placed the body in a bag and zipped it closed. Tristan could not bring himself to look at her. They carried her down the stairs and placed her on a gurney, then wheeled it out to the examiners van for transportation to the morgue.
"Lieutenant! The officer at the door yelled. "We are done here."
Tristan came downstairs and was about to leave. "You go ahead. I am going to look around first. Leave me the key and I'll lock up when I am done." The officer gave him the key and closed the door quietly as he left.
Tristan wandered from room to room, looking at what had become of Rory Gilmore's life. He looked at framed awards on the walls and candid pictures scattered among the endless books. He smiled sadly. Rory was a tremendous reader, and he couldn't resist teasing her about it at Chilton. A Chilton diploma and a Yale Degree were framed together and hung on the wall next to the door to the kitchen. "A Yalie." He whispered. He thought she had gone on to Harvard. She was always going to go to Harvard.
He wandered into the kitchen. The stove was pristine, it looked like it had never been used. There was a toaster on the counter and some colorful dishes and glasses in the cabinets. He looked at the single dish in the dish rack and chuckled out loud. It was a "Charlie's Angels" plate. He opened the fridge and saw many leftover containers. Now he knew why her stove was so clean.
The small office off the kitchen was compact and efficient. Her laptop was still there, there were even more books stacked in here, and more framed pictures on the desk and on the shelves. He left the room and went towards the back door. He noticed some ice on the rug. This is how the murderer got in he thought. He took some pictures. He saw the jimmy marks on the outside doorframe, and some misshapen tracks in the snow. He took more pictures.
The intruder touched nothing in the house it appeared. He or she had one thing on their mind and that was to kill Rory Gilmore. This was personal. He would have to ask questions at her place of work. He returned to the front door area and began to look through the mail.
He heard the sound of someone putting a key the front lock. He took out his weapon and stole into the living room. He pressed himself against the wall and kept his eye on the front hall.
A woman entered and dropped a bag on the floor. Her back was to him, and he heard her mumbling under her breath as she struggled to close the door and juggle another bag.
"Freeze. Washing PD." he called out as he entered the doorway, weapon drawn.
The woman gasped and stood stock still.
"Who are you and why are you in this house. This is a crime scene sweetheart." He said as he holstered his gun.
"Crime scene? I thought that tape was a joke! My coworkers would do something like that." She replied . She didn't move.
"Why are you here?" he asked again.
"I live here! I'm Rory Gilmore and this is my house! Can I turn around now?" she asked in exasperation.
Tristan stood stock still. He thought he heard buzzing in his ears. Rory turned around just in time to see him slide to the floor.