if this story doesn't make sense I'll be sad… also facts and details used in the story are probably not 100% accurate to real life police investigations but I tried my best with the research! some specific places I mention by name in this story are completely fictional though.
here goes!
Annabeth surveyed the crime scene in front of her with a frown.
Enclosed by three aged brick walls, it was a typical alley in the city. The forensic team was already spread out and collecting physical samples and photos of the area for analysis. The air smelled faintly of wet garbage, and the late morning heat didn't make it any more comfortable to be standing there. Beyond the police tape that had been strung across the mouth of the alley, a crowd of reporters had gathered to snap pictures and catch a glimpse of the latest murder scene. Two uniformed policemen were stationed outside the boundary to keep them from entering.
Annabeth felt a headache coming on, and she wasn't sure if it was more from the emergence of this new case, the summer heat or her lack of sleep. It was far from her first body in an alley, but this one was different from the other five that had landed on her desk in the past two months.
She took another look at the victim. Slumped against the left wall of the alley, he was a built African-American man who appeared to be in his mid-thirties. His head was slightly tilted down, and his open eyes stared vacantly at a spot near his feet. A single gunshot wound gaped in the centre of his chest, with no other visible external injuries.
Unintentionally, Annabeth's mind flickered back to the other unsolved alley cases still sitting on her desk. While those victims had been dumped in the same way, they'd been beaten to death, and none of them had been shot.
She filed the detail away in her brain. She shouldn't be thinking about the other cases right now.
"A shame to have a body so early in the day," her partner, Clarisse said with a sigh. She'd looked up from scribbling in her notepad to face her. "Can't imagine this scene will leave her mind anytime soon." She cocked her head in the direction of a woman standing off to the side who looked shaken and anxious. The officer who was with her was diligently taking notes as she spoke to him.
"How did the witness find him?" Annabeth asked.
"Said she was walking past on the way to work when she got spooked by a pack of dogs coming out of the alley and saw him lying there."
"That's troubling… Hopefully none of the evidence has been contaminated."
Kneeling next to the body in his full white forensics attire, Nico di Angelo, their lead CSI, was busy swabbing a dried patch of a brownish-red substance from the cement. "In my experience, stray dogs don't usually go around trying to eat dead bodies," he said. "But if the dogs did mess with the body there's nothing we can do about it. Just have to deal with what we can get. It's allll part of the job," he drawled.
"I appreciate the optimism as always, Nico," Annabeth chided.
He looked up to give her a dry smile.
Annabeth scanned the area around the body. "For a gunshot wound there's not much blood around here, is there?" she thought aloud.
"No, there isn't," Nico agreed. "I didn't see any bullet casings during the initial sweep of the place, either, although that could just mean the perp remembered to clean up after himself. I'll be able to take a better look behind the body once we move it, but for now I'm thinking he was shot somewhere else, and then brought here." Nico sealed the swab and packed it away in a plastic evidence bag.
"Doesn't seem like a typical robbery," Clarisse said.
"Maybe it wasn't," Annabeth said. "I have a feeling there's something more to this. Nico, what's your idea on time of death?"
"Well, there's no maggot activity or visible decomp yet. Considering how the body's out in the open and this is a pretty busy area it couldn't have been here too long without being noticed. So I'd say he must have died sometime last evening. I could be wrong since that's just from what I see here, but Solace should be able to give you a better estimate."
Annabeth looked at the line of shops across the street. "We should ask the retail owners around here if they heard anything last night. Just in case."
"I'll check the area for cameras we could take a look at," Clarisse added. "I'll bet one of them caught something."
Annabeth studied the victim's attire more closely. He was dressed in smart casual, with a dark blue blazer over an ash-grey dress shirt. His leather shoes looked new.
"His outfit makes me think he might have been either heading to or coming back from some sort of work event, or maybe a date. Thoughts?"
"I agree," Clarisse said. She took a closer look at the victim's shoes. "Soles aren't even that worn out yet. So I'm betting this guy doesn't normally wear formal on a daily basis or even at work."
"Hopefully we can get a quick ID after the autopsy. Then we'll be able to find out for sure…"
Nico stood up with his forensics kit in hand. "I'll go leave the sleuthing to you guys. I have to do another sweep of the area before we transport the body to the ME's Office. Oh, and while you're there later, say hi to Will for me."
Annabeth smiled and gave him a brief wave in goodbye. As she turned to go in the other direction, a metallic glint caught her eye. She paused to peer at a spot near the victim's neck. "Hey, there's something pinned to his collar."
Nico set his forensics kit back down and carefully reached for the lapel of the victim's blazer with a gloved hand. He pulled it aside just enough to reveal a bronze-bodied fountain pen clipped to the shirt.
"That's interesting," Nico said, studying the pen. "Based on the blood spatter it looks like the pen was on him when he was shot. But who clips their pen on their shirt under the jacket?"
He bagged the pen in a new evidence bag, and his question was lost to the air.
Annabeth glanced around them. By now the mass of reporters outside had dwindled down, likely discouraged by the lack of action. There wasn't much more they could do here now, so Annabeth gestured her partner towards the front of the alley.
They approached the woman who had found the body, and Annabeth thanked the officer who had been staying with her. Once he left, she turned to the witness.
"Hi, ma'am. Would you be comfortable coming back with us to the station? We have a few questions we'd like to ask you."
-Ψ-
Back at the 17th Precinct, Annabeth and Clarisse sat with the woman in one of the more comfortable interview rooms.
"Ma'am, can you tell me again how you first found the body?" Annabeth asked in a gentle tone.
The middle-aged lady briefly dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. "Such a shock," she murmured to herself. "I was just walking past the alley, which is the usual route I take to the bookstore, and that was when a group of dogs startled me. I waited until they scampered away and happened to look into the alley, which is when I saw him…" She clasped her hands together on the table. "At first I thought it was a drunk or homeless man sleeping, but as I got closer I realised his eyes were open and that he was dead."
Annabeth nodded slowly in understanding. "Did you happen to touch the body in any way?"
"No. I was too afraid to get any closer. I barely had the courage to call the police, but after a while I somehow managed to get my phone out from my purse."
"I appreciate that, ma'am. Did you see anyone else around at the time? Maybe someone looking like they were loitering where they didn't have to be?"
The woman thought for a moment. "No, I don't think so… The nice officer on the phone told me to sit down, so I went and waited on a bench on the sidewalk until the police arrived."
"All right," Annabeth said as she jotted some short notes onto her writing pad. "We just have a few more questions and then we'll have one of our officers drive you home. Unless there's anywhere else you want to be dropped off?"
"I think I'd like to get back to work at the bookstore instead. I'd rather have something to distract myself with than sit at home and have that poor man's face keep appearing in my mind every now and again, you know?"
"If you're sure." She gave the woman a small smile. "Okay, can you tell me approximately what time you found the body?"
-Ψ-
Before the woman left, Annabeth gave her her business card with her work contact in case she remembered any more details she'd forgotten to mention during the interview. Afterwards the two detectives headed to the bullpen where their desks were and settled into their seats across from each other.
"That witness statement doesn't give us much to work with," Clarisse remarked.
"Perhaps not, apart from corroborating time of death," Annabeth agreed.
"You think it's possible no one else saw the body before that? It seemed pretty noticeable from the sidewalk. Didn't look like the perp made much of an effort to conceal it in the first place."
Annabeth tilted her head in thought. "Maybe someone did, but assumed the victim was drunk or asleep like the witness and didn't think much of it, especially if it was dark out. A lot of people prefer to mind their own business. No way for us to know for sure, though."
Her partner let out a sigh. "Not off to a good start, this case, in my opinion. And it's just one more to add to the list."
She gestured with a finger to the small pile of case files sitting on the top corner of Annabeth's desk. They belonged to the five other homicides they had received over the past two months. After the third alley case that had arrived at the precinct, Annabeth and Clarisse decided to take on any future homicide cases involving alleyways in New York City considering the noticeable pattern of disposal and cause of death, fearing there might be a serial murderer on the rise. Annabeth knew there was a hidden lead they just hadn't discovered yet, and she was constantly on edge feeling like she was missing something that was plain in front of her.
"I'm thinking we go get ourselves some coffee," Clarisse suggested, pulling her out of her thoughts. "You know, as a reward for having to get out of bed and look at another body first thing on a Saturday."
Annabeth smiled at her partner knowingly. "So, are you gonna go, or should I?"
"Oh quit it, Chase," Clarisse grumbled. "I knew I shouldn't have mentioned anything to you."
"It's too late to take it back now, partner. I'm only going to stop when you make a move."
"Right. What you actually mean is you're going to keep yapping in my ear about it until we get married or something." Clarisse rolled her eyes, although she'd already stood up from her chair.
"Anyone can see that you've been lonely for too long, Clarisse."
"Lonely, my face. Since when did you become such a romantic? How about you take your own advice, huh? I'm not seeing any future-Mr Chase's around here."
"As your friend, I just want to see you happy. Is that so hard to believe?" Annabeth smiled innocently.
Clarisse ignored her and proceeded to walk out of the room to head to the café across the street. Annabeth pulled her chair in and grabbed one of the case files off the top of the stack on her table, deciding to look through it again while she waited for her partner to return.
She skimmed the first page, which held the fifth victim's personal information. She'd read the words so many times in the recent weeks that she practically had them memorised. She flipped to the next page for the details of Michael Yew's death. He had been found face-down on the rough cement of a Midtown Manhattan alley, with facial and rib fractures among his worst injuries. The autopsy also found a small volume of water in his lungs, although the official cause of death was determined to be extensive internal bleeding as a result of repeated blunt force trauma.
Annabeth stared at one line near the bottom of the page: Abrasions found on both wrists caused by rough rope or similar material. That was the detail that was shared by more than half of the victims. She wondered if this sixth victim had the same injury. She would only get to know in a few hours.
She spent fifteen more minutes reading through the other files before Clarisse reappeared and placed a takeaway cup of coffee in front of her.
"What's with the face, Chase?" she asked.
Annabeth looked up, closing the file belonging to the second victim and setting it back on the desk. "Just thought I'd refresh my memory on the other cases." She let out a quiet sigh. "They just keep piling up. All this time and we've hardly gotten anywhere. I hate it."
"Hmm. You still think the murders could be connected?" Clarisse said, leaning with her hip against the desk as she stirred her drink. There was only a little bit of doubt in her voice, although Annabeth knew she wasn't trying to be unkind about it.
"Maybe. I'm not settling on any theories, of course. I just thought we might explore the possibility considering our individual leads are getting us nowhere."
"Yeah, I get it, since there's barely anything to work with. Looks like di Angelo knew what he was talking about…"
Annabeth slumped a little more in her seat. Just as they had been for the last two weeks, five names floated around in her head, all tugging her back to the details of their deaths and the dead ends in the investigations. What would her job as a detective mean if she couldn't solve any of them? She felt a sense of urgency, even though most of the victims barely had any close contacts pushing them to find the killer(s) or even whom the detectives could talk to for more leads, which was part of the problem.
It all reminded her of a scene that never left her memories. Her heart constricted as she remembered standing in that hospital room when she was eighteen. Then a prickle of bitterness welled up inside her, and she shut the rest of the memory away before it could consume her focus.
Annabeth realised she hadn't touched her coffee, but she didn't feel like filling her stomach right now. She checked her watch.
"I'm gonna go back to the shops around the scene and ask the owners if they heard anything last night. Wanna come?"
"Why not," Clarisse said. "Not like I have anything better to do right now, anyway."
-Ψ-
Hours later at the Medical Examiner's Office, they found Will Solace in the building's mortuary, ready to present them with the results of the autopsy.
"Good news: I found the ID card in a wallet on the body. Victim's name was Charles Beckendorf," Will said, standing opposite the detectives so he could face them. In the middle of the group, the victim lay on a steel autopsy table covered up to the waist by a white sheet.
"His wallet's still there… so not a robbery," Clarisse confirmed.
"Appears so. Money's still inside and everything." Will gestured behind him to a side table, on top of which was a plastic evidence bag containing the wallet.
"Cause of death?" Annabeth asked.
"Single gunshot wound to the chest," he said, pointing to it on the body. "No exit wound, but I found some gunshot residue on the skin, which of course tells us he was shot from the front at close range, although not with direct skin contact since there's no burn marks. The forensics lab should give you the same story from the clothing I'll be sending them. Unfortunately the bullet shattered on impact with the rib, but Reyna should be able to tell you what type of gun it came from once all the pieces are put back together.
"Aside from that, contusions at the base of the head indicate blunt force trauma. No other external injuries or defensive wounds on the body, except for rope markings on both wrists."
The back of Annabeth's neck tingled at the last detail. She shared a look with Clarisse, which told her that her partner had caught it too.
"And time of death?"
"Estimated about twelve hours ago, likely between 8 pm to 2 am. I hate to inform that the toxicology report will only be ready in four to six weeks at the earliest. Other than that, those are all the big details I have for you. The full report's right here."
"Thanks, Will," Annabeth said.
Clarisse crossed her arms and shifted her weight onto her left foot. Her gaze floated towards the body lying between them as she pondered something. "So no defensive wounds, plus head injury, plus rope markings—I'm thinking it was a blitz attack first, then the vic was restrained and later shot. But why? And what's the pen got to do in this?"
"What pen?" Will asked.
"Back at the scene we found a bronze fountain pen clipped onto the victim's shirt," Annabeth answered. "It's already in evidence, but it seems like it was on him when he was shot."
"Strange," Will mused. "Well, I'm confident you'll unearth the answers you're looking for soon enough, detectives." He gave them a smile of sympathy. "I know you two are pretty busy with your five cases—six now, I guess. I, myself am currently swamped with a boatload of my own from some of the other precincts."
"Tough," Clarisse remarked. "It's almost like the work never ends."
"You ladies happen to know of any CSIs who might be able to help me, though?" he asked, feigning innocence. "Particularly of the dark and brooding variety."
Clarisse smirked. "Real smooth, buddy. But di Angelo's just as busy as you are. Afraid you're going to have to try harder than that to get him to notice you."
"I could say the same to you, La Rue," he shot back.
Clarisse huffed and turned to leave without a backward glance. Annabeth gave their consulting forensic pathologist a wry smile before bidding him goodbye and following after her partner with a hardcopy of the autopsy report in one hand.
"So, think the cases might be related?" she asked as they stepped out into the sun, trying not to sound too victorious.
"I just might," Clarisse grumbled. "But let's see what we can dig up on this one first."
-Ψ-
They returned to the precinct and took a trip to the office levels of the building to visit their resident technical analyst, Malcolm Pace.
"Hey, Pace," Annabeth greeted once they had made it to his cubicle. "Can you help us pull up records for a Charles Beckendorf? He's our vic from this morning."
"Sure thing," he said, getting to work on the police database.
Within a couple minutes he gathered the information, printed out a copy and slotted the sheet of paper into a manila file.
"Much appreciated," Clarisse said, taking it from Malcolm's outstretched hand. "How's progress on the camera footage?"
"I have it right here, actually." On his computer screen, he pulled up a grid of three black-and-white camera feeds showing the streets around the crime scene, though none of them gave a direct view of the mouth of the alley.
Annabeth's heart sank in dismay. "This is all we've got?"
"Unfortunately. It's just the closest traffic camera and the security ones of the shops around the area—I was able to run down and request them from the owners before you got here."
"Can you show us the footage from 8 pm last night?" Clarisse instructed.
Malcolm navigated to the timestamp and played it in fast-forward. The three of them watched in silence as pedestrians wandered the streets and vehicles zoomed down the roads in a timelapse.
"There," Clarisse said suddenly.
Malcolm paused the video feed as she pointed to the corner of the footage labelled 'Rosa's Empanadas – Street View' over his shoulder. At her finger was a grainy image of the edge of an unmarked van's back bumper by the sidewalk in front of the store. Since the vehicle was dark in colour in the camera footage, Annabeth guessed it was black in real life.
"From what I remember walking around earlier, this shop faces the road and is right next to the alley," Clarisse explained. "Judging from the scale of the video, I'll bet a week's worth of coffee that the van here was parked right outside the crime scene at this moment. Probably even obstructing it from view from the street."
The timestamp told them that had happened at 12:05 am. Malcolm rewound the footage slowly to show the van reversing into camera view, and he paused to capture the back of it for when it had just passed the shop.
Clarisse drummed her index and middle fingers alternately against the desk. "We can't see the license plate from this angle. See if the traffic cam can pick up a clearer view."
Malcolm toggled to the traffic camera's video feed and navigated to the same timestamp. It gave an angle of the main road a few stores down from the alley, and after some minutes had elapsed on the recording, the same black van came into view as it moved straight down the road. Malcolm paused the feed and zoomed in on the back of the vehicle, but most of the plate was shaded in darkness, only a small area of the top corner visible in a lighter tone, and even then not a fragment of a letter or number could be seen. He fiddled with the video to try and obtain a better angle, but it was to no avail.
Clarisse cursed under her breath. "It's too dark to read. Any chance you can enhance the video—brighten it up or something?"
"Not in a way that would let us see the plate. The angle of the shadows is blocking it a little perfectly, unfortunately. Plus the van's backlights are too dim, which I guess helps the perp more than it does us. Might have even been intentional."
"So basically we have nothing." Clarisse cursed again.
"I'd say it's something," Malcolm said helpfully. "At least now you know which model to look for."
"Right. And the list of people and companies who drive an unmarked black van in New York will probably be shorter than five pages long," she deadpanned.
At that moment, a notification popped up on one side of the computer screen to tell them it was lunchtime.
"Really?" Annabeth asked.
"I admit I get carried away with work sometimes," Malcolm said, a little sheepishly.
Clarisse clicked her tongue. "So, thanks again for the info and the optimism. We'll leave you to your lunchtime now."
Annabeth's phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out and read the text message she had received.
"Nico says the evidence is ready for us to look through if we want."
"The kid has impeccable timing," Clarisse muttered.
"Isn't he only two years younger than you?" Malcolm asked.
"Doesn't act that way sometimes." She heaved an aggrieved sigh. "Well, we'd better go down and get it. It was nice talking to you, Pace."
They took a trip down to the crime lab to retrieve the evidence box before returning to their own office area. Her coffee still sat three-quarters full on her desk, but Annabeth ignored it as she took the lid off the cardboard box and sifted through the bags inside.
At the very bottom of the box were the victim's clothes and shoes neatly folded and kept in separate labelled resealable bags. She ignored most of the other items inside and pulled out the bag containing the pen she had been wondering about for most of the day.
"Fancy pen," Clarisse commented. "Must be pretty expensive."
Leaving it in the bag, Annabeth turned the pen over in her fingers to study its exterior. Specks of blood still marred its smooth metallic surface, although she expected Nico would have attempted to lift fingerprints off it if there were any. She was about to set the bag down to check if he had already left them any results when she spotted a neat engraving in block letters along one side of the pen:
P. JACKSON
"That name looks familiar…" she murmured.
Clarisse leaned over to read it. "That logo," she said, referring to the emblem of a trident printed onto the blunt top of the cap. "I bet that name stands for Percy Jackson—you remember that big-shot heir to Poseidon Enterprises who got caught up in that scandal with the red-headed heiress some months ago?"
"Right…" Annabeth said slowly. In truth, she hardly recalled. She never liked to busy herself with celebrity gossip media or news tabloids. She had too many things to do.
She dragged her thumb over the carved name. This new discovery made her uneasy. The last thing they needed was to have someone high-profile getting involved in a homicide case. It would be difficult to investigate properly if he started throwing his lawyers at them, which was a scenario Annabeth had had the misfortune to experience in the past.
Clarisse set her hands on her hips and scowled down at the pen. "Well, partner, it looks like you and I will need to have a chat with the little future CEO."
I hope this wasn't too draggy… I can't help it, I'm a sucker for details. but good news: we'll be meeting Percy in the next one ;)
-edited 22/5/2024-