The Alexandru Chronicles: The Beginning

by Julienne Holmes

  “It's okay..., Mrs. Steleman...”

  His voice was so sudden, and had such a velvet silkiness to it, that she instantly flinched, causing her to swerve her car into the other lane. After she had quickly corrected herself, and said a quick thanks that there wasn't anyone else on the road, she looked over at him.

  “What...?” her voice shook.

  “It's okay...I'm not going to hurt you.”

  “Oh...” she tried to laugh, but it came out sounding more like a cough. “I didn't...”

  “I know..., you don't have to.” he smiled and looking back at the road, he said, “You've been swerving all over the road, and that leaves one to think that either you've been drinking...” he chuckled. “or you're nervous.” adverting his attention back to her, he continued, “I'm willing to guess that the first is not true...”

  It was when he smiled again that she felt herself automatically relax. She wasn't entirely sure if it was her conscience urging her or if she was just relaxing because of how silky Mr. Alexandru's voice was.

  Letting out a nervous breathe, she returned her gaze back to the road, not looking anymore at her companion. As her eyes wandered from left to right, keeping a vigilant eye on any animals that might scurry out into the road, she found herself unable to even spare the man next to her a sideways glance- it was like her gaze was fixated on the road.

  When they eventually arrived at their destination—an enormous, picturesque, mansion—she was so surprised, that she automatically felt her nervousness return. As her gaze wandered over the mansion in front of her, the ominous beauty of it, automatically, drew her in.

  It had been on the market for close to three years. The few clients she had brought out to view this property, had found it too be so utterly gorgeous that they had wanted to purchase it right then and there.

  To be honest this mansion was actually a really good bargain. It was on at least a hundred squared acres of land and it had all the modern improvements. Yet, oddly enough, it was one of the few properties that she was having a hard time selling to anyone. Those few clients, who were interested one minute, lost interest pretty quick. One minute, the client would be excited about signing the papers and moving in. Then the next time she talked to them, they either found something wrong with the property or there was something about the house that hadn't set well with them.

  Yet, just from chancing a glance over at Mr. Alexandru, she knew instantly that this house was right up his alley. The way he sat forward in his seat and how his grayish blue eyes now, briefly, sparkled with intrigue, told her that they had found the one.

  No sooner, though, did that look appear in his eyes, was it quickly gone; finally tearing his gaze away from the house to look over at her, she noted that that same mysterious, cloaked, gaze – with a hint of a reddish tint – was back in his eyes. “It's perfect.”

  Chapter Two

  As Genevieve Freemen kicked off her shoes, and pulled her legs up underneath her, she thought about the disastrous date she had just gotten through with, with her former boyfriend, Keith Anderson. Keith had broken up with her in a crowded, snobby, restaurant, of all places, reciting the same bullshit that countless other men had, “We have nothing in common.”

  Gees, duh!

  Of course they had nothing in common, she was a homicide detective and Keith was an investment banker that spent most of his time either staring at himself in the mirror or criticizing the women he was with.

  Keith wasn't technically bad looking, he just wasn't as good looking as he would like to give himself credit for being – possibly, what held him back, in the looks department, was having jumbo sized ears. He could have looked like her sloped head, baby face, ugly ass brother in-law. He didn't, though. If he had, she would have told her sister to go take a flying leap off the nearest cliff.

  How her sister had thought that they would be a perfect match, though, was beyond her. Granted she knew Amelia meant well, but this was ridiculous. Three dates with idiotic losers, who were so obnoxious that it wasn't even funny.

  Well..., it was kind of funny.

  After every break up, she always had a laugh afterwords. It was always amusing to see these guys, get totally upset with her over her stoic reaction towards them ending a relationship that was headed towards the shitter anyway. If there was one beneficial thing about dating these dick heads, it was the amusement she got over upsetting them.

  Her sister had none too grudging pointed out that, this kind of behavior was rude. Yet, what was more rude. Breaking up with someone in a public restaurant? Or stoically accepting the break up as just one of those unpleasant bumps in the road?

  Okay maybe the other was kind of a flick your nose snub, but what was she suppose to do? The one major problem she had, was her emotions...or, better yet, lack of emotions. She had never been an overly emotional person. And the guys she seemed to attract, and just as easily repel, were utter losers.

  They either were as boring as sap, or they just...

  Oh who was she kidding, they were as boring as just picking her nose. They had no personality and lacked any real sexual appeal.

  Keith, not surprising, was more boring than the rest. Sure he had been decent looking and, in the beginning, sweet, but he had bored her to tears. As the relationship progressed, she had noticed how vulgarly obnoxious he could be. Getting mad at the waiter or waitress, if they accidentally spilled something on him.

  What annoyed her the most about him, was how he had gotten, on more than one occasion, those individuals fired. In this day and age, it was bad enough getting a job. If there were people like Keith in the world, keeping it was made even harder.

  The way she saw it, if he hadn't broken-up with her, she would have with him....

  Or she would have killed him.

  Good thing he had beaten her to the bunch, because, if he hadn't, she probably would have backed over him with her car or shot him.

  As her thoughts wandered back to that night, she found herself sarcastically grinning over the way Keith had behaved...

  XXX

  Keith had picked her up—late as usual.

  Another Keith quality that irritated her, was that he always arrived hours late to pick her up for their dates, and, by then, she was too annoyed to really want to go out. If her job wasn't hard enough, her personal life was made worse by an inconsiderate boyfriend who showed up three hours past the time he said he would. And, the moment she answered the door, criticized her about what she was wearing.

  It had been going on ten, when Keith had eventually decided to make an appearance at her apartment. From the moment she opened the door and noticed how his gaze critically wandered over her, she knew what was coming.

  “You're wearing that...?”

  It had been that dark scowl on her face, that had had him instantly throwing his hands up in the air, and saying, “Never mind.”

  Irritably sighing, she grabbed her purse off the coffee table and headed out the door, expecting him to follow her. When he eventually did, she locked the door and, grudgingly went down the stairs, not caring if Keith was behind her or not.

  After making her way over to his shoe box of a sports car, she waited for him to unlock the piece shit that looked about the size of her jewelry box. Once he had, she tried not hitting her head on the low ceiling or even the door frame. Once she had gotten into the car, practically knocking herself senseless in the process, she waited for Keith to get in. It didn't take long for him to do so, and, she had to forcefully swallow her laugh down, when he bumped his head on the low ceiling.

  What surprised her, was that the whole drive to the restaurant, Keith was completely silent—not even a peep out of his stupid, bobble head, self.

  At first she wondered if it was possible that she had gotten so good at ignoring him, that she had successfully put him on mute.

  Yet, that wasn't the case.

  The moment they got to the restaurant, another expensive dive, that had its share of snobs sneaking obno
xious glances over at her, and whispering about her dress, she knew something was up. While it was typically Keith behavior, for him to let her work her ass off at getting out of his car and not pulling or pushing her chair in at the table. What wasn't typical, was when Keith ordered a drink and not his meal. He was so predictable. Every time they went out, he ordered his drink and meal all at the same time.

  From the moment Keith signaled to the waiter to come over to the table, Genevieve had this familiar, deja vu, feeling that she knew what was coming. She'd been down this road before.

  While there were certain men that were hard to read, the ones that she ended up with, read like an open book. Keith was no different, he sat down at the table, ordered his scotch and soda, and peering, sadly, across the table at her, he said, “Genevieve...”

  Smiling at him, she said, “Yes, Keith...” she tried to sound sweet, but it came out more sarcastic than anything else.

  Either Keith was totally dense or he was such a snob, that he didn't notice – she was willing to say that both were true.

  Taking her hands in his, she resisted the urge to snicker at how feminine his hands felt against hers – if she hadn't known better, she would have sworn that another woman was holding her hands. Before speaking, he briefly looked at her hands, “This isn't working out...” when she continued to sarcastically smile at him, his dense ass, finally said, “I think we should see other people.”

  Withdrawing her hands from his, she quickly stood up, and after taking a quick sweep over the restaurant, she, looking down at him, nonchalantly, said, “Okay...”

  After retrieving her purse, she could scarcely hear him say, as she got ready to leave their table and the restaurant, “I know how this must make...” he stopped, when it finally dawned on him, what she had just said – finally, something was getting through his dense, over bloated, ass. “Okay...?” there was a hint of disbelief.

  As she sarcastically smiled over at him, she said, “Yea...okay.”

  “What do you mean, okay?”

  “I mean...” her smile broadened. “Okay...”

  “That wasn't the kind of response, that I was expecting...” he was mumbling mostly to himself.

  Sighing, she said, “What about this...?” he looked up at her. “What if you tell your buddies and everyone else, that I cried like a bitch and threw a major hissy fit.” looking down at her watch, she said, “Are you going to drive me home...or should I catch the bus?”

  When all he did was continue to sit there, with this disgruntle look on his face, she, shrugging, turned and made a graceful retreat from the restaurant.

  XXX

  Now, she sat in her apartment, eating pizza, drinking a cold beer, and savoring how defeated Keith had looked.

  There was nothing more liberating than being a ball buster to those men who were deserving of it.

  As she took another swig of her beer, it was then that her cellphone rang—tempted to let it go to voice-mail, she finally, on the third ring, answered it, “Detective Freemen.”

  She had just brought her beer up to her lips, yet, she abruptly stopped when she heard what the person on the other line had to say. “Where...” putting her beer down, she stood up from her couch, and looking around her small apartment, she said, “I'll be there in fifteen minutes.”

  Once she had hung-up, she ran her hand through her long curly brown hair, and sighing defeatedly, she headed toward her bedroom to change; the life of a cop was an all day occurrence.

  While she wanted to sit at home and have 'me time', her job had decided otherwise.

  XXX

  The moment Genevieve walked into the morgue, she knew something was up. For one, there was usually someone out front. Often times an off duty cop, that asked her for identification before allowing her to enter. Yet, that person wasn't there.

  That in itself was odd.

  No odder, though, than what she saw, when she headed into the morgue itself.

  Dr. Albert Sheritan, his grad. Assistant, Mark Creaton, and the cop, who she knew only as Kevin, were perplexedly looking around the morgue.

  By the way they were confoundedly searching the floor and every other cranny, it seemed, to even an untrained eye, that they had lost something.

  “Lose something?” when all Albert did was turn to look at her, Genevieve knew, by his confused expression, that he might as well have been looking right through her – he was totally lost.

  Confoundedly rubbing his face, he turned to his assistant. “Did you check the offices?”

  “Why would a stiff be in there?” when all Albert did was frown at him, he said, “I'll check...” heading toward his office, he mumbled, “I can't believe this is happening.”

  After Mark had rushed past her, with the same dazed expression on his face as Albert's, Genevieve wondered, if it was possible that she had developed the ability to make herself invisible. After perplexedly watching his retreating back, she finally adverted her gaze down to the clean white tiled floor. When she heard Albert open one of the lockers and pull the slab out, she hastily adverted her gaze from to the floor over to him. The moment she noticed how he was perplexedly staring in the open locker and looking contentedly down at the clean, metal, slab – as if he was hoping for something to appear on it – she started to irritably tap her foot upon the floor.

  Finally having enough, Genevieve went over to him. “What are you looking for?”

  It was then that Albert looked directly at her – ultimately putting an end to her invisibility. So surprised was he by not just her question, but her presence, that he didn't, at first, say anything.

  “Gen...?” the shock in his voice, had a smile creeping to Genevieve's heart-shaped face.

  Yet, it was his continued confounded expression, that had her smile just as quickly forming into a frown. “That's my name, don't wear it out.”

  He didn't laugh and frowning at her, he inquired, “What are you doing here?”

  Irritably sighing, she sarcastically replied, “Ah...I don't know...Maybe it's because you called me...”

  “Ah..I know that....I...” he rubbed his face. “I just didn't think you'd be here so quick...”

  If it hadn't been for Genevieve's morbid sense of humor, she probably wouldn't have lasted long as a Homicide detective. Not just that, though, but if she hadn't had a fairly good personality, she most likely would have already been angrily yelling at Albert. Yet, as it was, it wasn't in her genetic makeup to let people see how irritated she was by the very sight of them. Besides, Albert, was one of the few people, that she actually considered a friend.

  Smiling at him, she said, calmly, “Albert..., what the hell is going on?”

  Looking quizzically at her, he finally, shrugging defeatedly, said, “We lost a body...”

  It took her a few minutes to digest what he had just said. “You lost a body?”

  Licking his lips, he, this time, put his hand through his graying, dark, hair, “Yes... and, it get's worse...”

  “How so?”

  “It's a body that just so happens to pertain to one of your cases...Today's case..., involving the murdered victim from Sherries apartment complex.” it was at that moment, that Genevieve was ultimately stunned silent; she really didn't know how to respond to this.

  Puzzlingly, looking around the morgue, she finally said, “Hmm...” after bafflingly shaking her head, she headed in the direction of Albert's office. Yet, just as quickly as she had decided to go in that direction, she, suddenly, turned around to look at him.

  “Did you by any chance look at the security footage...or the log?”

  It didn't take a genius to know that, just from the surprised expression on both Albert's and Kevin's faces, that the answer was no.

  Irritably shaking her head, she sarcastically smiled at the two, before she headed, this time out the way she had come in, and right toward the reception area. Sitting down in Kevin's chair, she started by rewinding the footage. It didn't take long for her to find what she was
looking for or, better yet, what wasn't there; a section of the footage was totally blank.

  “Hhhh...” she looked at both Kevin and Albert, who were standing a few inches away from her. “What do you have to say for yourselves about this?” she looked at both men.

  Albert, coming over to her, leaned down to look. As his gray gaze, first went to the blank footage and then over to Kevin, he growled, “Officer Shelton...?!”

  Irritably throwing his hands up in the air, Kevin said, “Look..., I didn't come on duty until way after all this shit went down.”

  Sighing, Genevieve said, “Well, who comes on before Officer Shelton...”

  “Ummmm....”

  Frowning, Genevieve scoffed. “Look doc, it's not that complicated.”

  “I'll have to check...” when he saw the incredulous look on Genevieve's face, he growled. “Look, I don't pay attention to who's out here half the time!”

  “I'll say...” they both looked at Kevin, who, smirking irritably at them, said, “for a long time, you thought I was a woman.”

  While the situation was far from funny, Genevieve couldn't help but laugh at what Kevin had just said. Yet, when she noticed the infuriated look on Albert's face, she quickly regretted it.

  “Lets just look in the log...” pulling the log out of the desk, she flipped through the pages. “Hhhh...”

  “What?”

  It was when she flipped to the ending of the page, that had six o'clock to the next page, where six thirty should have led up to seven and so forth, that she noticed that, the page after six, was starting at eleven.

  From the moment Genevieve had found out about the missing corpse, she had just been looking at this situation as something easily explained away. Like the family could have forgotten to sign in. And because of all the jumble emotions, the corpse could have been transferred somewhere else – without anyone filling out the appropriate paperwork. There had been more than one occasion, when a stupid mistake had been made, and someone had shown up and taken the body, without alerting the appropriate persons of their intentions.