The Alexandru Chronicles: The Beginning

by Julienne Holmes

  Yea, he was a good looking man alright. Or at least pretty to look at.

  There were times, when he was silent, that she felt a deep attraction for him. Yet, no sooner was that desire there, was it quickly gone. All he had to do was open his big, stupid, mouth and she lost all interest. It was that need for him to constantly tell her, her own business, that had her desire quickly dying and her wanting to drive her foot all the way up his royal behind.

  “Gen, are you listening to me?” it was that irritating nagging voice that had her quickly drawn back to the pain in the neck sitting next to her.

  “Nah...I was just picturing what it would feel like to put you in the trunk.” she chuckled.

  “Funny..., you're just another comedian, aren't you...? Gen...” before he could finish, they pulled up to her missing stiff's apartment complex.

  As Genevieve stared up at the towering, crumbling, building before her, she was instantly overpowered by that dreaded déjà vu feeling. While earlier that day, when the sun had been out and the light of day had made things less ominous, she had come out to this very complex; and felt nothing out of the ordinary. Yet, now, from seeing this building at night, with shadows creeping up and down it, she was overwhelmed by this awkward dreaded feeling that something was amiss...

  Chapter Five

  Early Friday Afternoon

  That morning when Genevieve had been working on some much needed paperwork, she was instructed – half past eleven—by her captain to head over to ninth street: Sherries apartment complex. She didn't need directions on where this was, she had been called out on more than one occasion—always because of some sort of homicide.

  If Genevieve had been asked to name on one hand, how many times she had had to come out to this complex, she wouldn't have been able to.

  It was apparent, from the number of dead bodies that always turned up at Sherries, that the renters were as crummier than the building itself.

  Not all the time was a murder committed on the premises of the complex, though. In some cases, the structure made for a good dumping ground, because most of the tenants there were either drug dealers, gang bangers, prostitutes, and etc.; the majority of them weren't inclined to talk, unless they were being threatened with prison time.

  While the unsolved murders over at Sherries were pretty high, Genevieve felt that it was no higher than any other place in Tucson. These days, hardly any people around had or used their conscience – everyone was too busy looking out for themselves.

  As Genevieve pulled up in her red Chevy Cruze, she groaned at the idea of having to walk past the wannabee gangsters that always gave her a hard time; when she made her way to where ever the crime scene was at.

  Too bad she couldn't shoot them.

  Yet, there were laws and rights for even the most undeserving of the undesirable. While her method was to line all the assholes up and just start using them as target practice, she was again halted by the Constitution that these idiots refused to follow themselves. Yet, they used it when ever they felt their rights were being wronged.

  After making her way from her car to the crime scene tape, she was instantly halted by the first responding officer. It was the typical procedure – show the guy her identification and then make her way to the crime scene.

  The moment she had walked away from that crime scene tape, though, and tried to enter the building, itself, she was immediately accosted by the same drags that she usually met.

  “Hey baby, why don't you let me show you what a real man can do...?”

  The wannabee idiot that now stood in front of her, was trying to suggestively wiggle his hips and rub up against her.

  If he was trying to get her off or even himself, he was failing miserably.

  It was just the way he was wiggling, that had Genevieve thinking that he was having a seizure of some kind. He was annoying her so much, that she had to literally stop herself from walloping the guy.

  Since the guy was irritating her and his other four compadres were blocking her way, Genevieve decided it was only fair to accommodate her admirers by removing her jacket.

  The moment they saw her side arm and badge, the one who had been doing his ants in the pants dance quickly stopped and he chanced a nervous glance over at his friends.

  “Babe...,” as she leaned in closer, to her first admirer, she said, “why don't you let me shove my gun all the way up your ass...?” after the five of them had nervously moved out of her way, she walked past them. “I'll show you what a real woman can do with it.”

  As she made her way into the complex, she briefly thought of what the five douches behind her could do to her professionally. If one of those pricks ever did decide to report her to IA, Genevieve already had a set of excuses ready.

  First, her decision for removing her jacket was brought on by it being too hot to wear the damn thing. And, if that excuse didn't work, she would try being honest—she was just defending her honor.

  While she knew that both would most likely not fly with IA, she was going to try anyway. Besides her brand of sarcasm had already worn itself out with the idiots in IA. They didn't seem to appreciate her version of 'I'm sorry, assholes.'

  XXX

  From the very first moment that Genevieve entered the one bedroom apartment, she was right away startled by the lack of that usual smell—the stench of death.

  Where was it?

  Shrugging away that awkward sensation, she thought possibly the smell wasn't there because they had either taken the body away or the victim hadn't been dead long.

  Yet, it was her rational mind that told her that the stench would still be lingering over everything.

  As Genevieve looked around the small space, she was not at all surprised by the one bedroom apartment's dingy appearance. The furniture was falling apart and there was a small collection of ants already congregating on a discarded pizza box.

  It was during this brief survey, that she was able to make an educated guess on what her murdered victim had been involved in before his death. From the amount of cocaine on his kitchen table, he had either been a drug dealer, user, or both.

  Nodding at the two CSI investigators, she made her way into the bedroom where the medical examiner, Albert Sheritan, was already present.

  He didn't spare her even a glance. For he was way too preoccupied in his work.

  It wouldn't have matter either way. Genevieve was far too surprised, by the body laying before her. Taking a deep breathe, she was again puzzled by the lack of that unpleasant decomposing odor. While the apartment, itself, didn't smell like roses, it still should have smelled a whole lot worse than it did.

  It was then that Albert noticed her standing there in the doorway. “Hey beautiful, what's up?”

  Folding her arms, she continued to frowningly stare at the body on the bed. When she finally spoke, it was more a question to herself than anyone else. “Where's the smell...?

  When all Albert did was puzzlingly stare at her, she said, “I mean, I know I've been at this for awhile now, but is it just me or does this scene lack something...I couldn't have gotten use to that smell...”

  “I know what you mean...” Albert rubbed his face. “When I first showed up, I was baffled by the lack of a stench...Hell, I still am.”

  It was the way he stared at the body, as if it was a poisonous viper, getting ready to strike him, that had Genevieve's frown deepening.

  “You want to know what else is odd?” he rubbed his face. “Come over here...” it was the way he looked at her, that had Genevieve silently sauntering over to him.

  As she stood next to the bed, staring down at the body, Albert then handed her a pair of gloves. “Try bending the wrist.”

  After putting the gloves on, she did as he instructed her to do.

  It was in that moment of bending that wrist back, that Genevieve felt this cold shiver go down her spine. “Okay that's odd...” she looked at Albert confoundedly. “This wrist shouldn't bend this easily...Unless, the body hasn't
been dead for that long...?” she looked perplexedly down at the body. “Either way, rigor should have already started to set in.”

  “That's what I said...” he rubbed his face. “From the moment I showed up, everything has felt wrong about this whole crime scene...” mumbling mostly to himself, “The body's flexibility and the lack of a stench...” looking at her, he said, “At first I thought him...” he motioned to the dead body. “To be sleeping...”

  When all Genevieve did was quizzically stare at him, he said, “It was when I felt for a pulse, that I knew for sure he was dead.”

  Taking off her gloves, she finally said, “How long do you suppose he's been here?”

  “I don't know...I can't say, until I get him down to the morgue...” turning on her heels to walk away, Albert said, “Hey, Gen..,” she turned back around. “If you really want to know, you should ask the first responding officers...They might be able to give you some clue on when he died.”

  XXX

  It was Albert's advice that now had her standing in front of the first office, who she had met earlier that day. As she stoically surveyed him, Genevieve could tell, just from his posture, that he was a young rookie.

  From the way he presented himself, not wanting anyone to notice him and trying to be invisible, she knew he was the right person to talk to – his guard would not just be down, but he would be new enough that that 'be a shithead to the detectives' attitude wouldn't have set in yet.

  “Officer Carven, is it?”

  “Yea...” he nervously looked down at his feet.

  “Don't worry...I'm not here to get on to you about anything...” when she smiled, he instantly relaxed.

  “I just want some information. Who called you and your partner out about the dead body?” he nervously looked over at his partner.

  Glancing behind her at Officer Gaven, Genevieve noted the disgruntle frown on his face. From his apparent deep scowl, it was obvious that he wasn't happy that his partner was talking to her. Most likely Office Carven would get a lot of heat from him, but that couldn't be helped – she needed answers.

  Besides they all were on the same side.

  She couldn't understand, why detectives and street cops were always acting as if they had a beef with one another.

  Then again, maybe it was just her precinct.

  Smiling over at Gaven, she waved to him. After turning back to Officer Carven, she repeated her question, “So..., again..., what happened?”

  Giving his partner one last, wary, glance, he pulled his attention back to her. “Around eight, the dispatcher told us to head over here...Supposedly, the landlady, here, wanted to kick one of her tenants out, but she was afraid to go into the tenant's apartment to do so.”

  “So, once you got here, what happened?”

  “We went upstairs to the apartment in question and first we knocked...When the tenant didn't come to the door, the landlady opened it for us and we went inside...”

  “And?”

  “That's when we found him...dead...”

  “What made you two come to the conclusion that this was a homicide?”

  Officer Carven again looked nervously over at his partner. When eventually he spoke, there was a shakiness to his voice, “Well, that's the thing... After finding the body, one of them...” he motioned over to one of the five idiots, that had earlier accosted her. “Came up to us and told both Officer Gavin and I, about this red head that they had seen the victim with—last night.”

  Really this explanation didn't tell Genevieve anything. Yet, she decided that it was best to go on and see if there was anything more that Officer Carven could give her – possibly a clue.

  “Who was the victim to them?”

  “A buddy...they knew him only as the Sandman.”

  “When was he seen with the red head?”

  “I don't know...they all weren't sure on the exact time...it could have been around nine or later than that.” when Genevieve didn't reply, he said, “The one thing they all could agree on, was that they all wanted to sleep with this red head...Yet, their buddy was the lucky one to do so.”

  Or unlucky one. If he was dead, soon after, then he really wasn't lucky.

  “So did they give a description of this woman?”

  “Not exactly...” noting her frown, he said, “They said that there was something unreal about her.”

  “Unreal?”

  “Their words...”

  “Is that it?”

  “Except that they all saw her leaving their buddy's apartment...”

  “I suppose you don't have an exact time for that either?”

  “No...just that when they looked at this woman, again, there was something new about her that scared the crap out of them...”

  “Like what?”

  “I don't know...All they said, was that her face looked different...Anyway after she had left, they all five decided to head over to their buddy's apartment to see him...”

  “And?” she perplexedly looked over to her five wannabees.

  “They claim that they knocked..., but he just wouldn't come to the door.”

  Chapter Six

  Now

  “Ah...Gen..., we're here?”

  It was Kyle's persisted voice, that had her preoccupied thoughts yanked back to reality.

  She was sitting in her car, staring up at a building that looked more friendly during the day than it did at night. Nervously glancing over at her car clock, she noted that it was already half past one in the morning – she could wait.

  Yet, where was the fun in that?

  Besides her detective brain was already kicking in, and she had this unhealthy desire to find herself a corpse – her corpse to be more exact.

  A stiff didn't just disappear from the morgue.

  Possibly it got up and walked out?

  Where had that thought come from. No way and hell had that happened.

  Rationally speaking—dead was dead.

  As much as she tried to rationalize this, though, there was still this nagging feeling that this whole situation wasn't right.

  The body disappearing from the morgue, her sitting in her car across from an eery building that appeared to be straight out of a horror movie, and now she had this unhealthy stupidity to get out of her car and enter that eery building.

  Yea, you didn't get any more stupid than that.

  Possibly she had a death wish.

  Or an unhealthy desire to be scared shitless. Her gut told her, that if she was dumb enough to enter this building, she would definitely find either one – possibly both.

  Possibly she should consider committing herself to the nearest mental institution. There had to be something in a psychiatrist’s patient study, on being so overly stupid; that it was categorize as insanity.

  Hesitantly glancing over at her partner, she could see that Kyle was looking at the door handle as if it was a poisonous viper – not wanting to touch it.

  Come back during the day.

  That's what her rational voice, kept telling her.

  Yet, instead of listening to it. She found herself unlocking the door and exiting her car.

  As she leaned against her door, still half way in the car, she was surprised by how chilly the night air was. They were going through a heatwave, where, during the daytime and nighttime, the temperature outside was practically the same.

  As she stood there, trying to get her nerves under control, she noted that the chill in the air wasn't the only thing off. There was this light fog, that had immersed itself around the structure. And it was, right at that moment, traveling over the ground toward them – as if welcoming them.

  If the fog wasn't bad enough, there were tons of little shadows creeping from crevice to crevice – as if trying to get a better look at the strangers who had just arrived.

  Swallowing down the nervous lump in her throat, Genevieve tensely stared down at her car's welcoming seat.

  It was that unbearable urge to jump back into her car, that had her
quickly closing the door and hastily taking those first few steps over to that ominous building.

  It's just a building.

  That's what she kept telling herself, as she walked toward it.

  Granted it's scarier than hell, but it's just a building.

  When she saw one of the shadows suddenly scurry out of the crevice it had been hiding in, she abruptly halted in her tracks and practically screamed when she felt someone ram into her. Swiftly turning around, she was surprised and, at the same time, relieved, to see that it was only Kyle.

  She hadn't been paying that much attention to what he had been doing. So lost had she been in the eeriness in front of her, that she hadn't even noticed that he had gotten out of the car.

  In all honesty, she wouldn't have blamed him, if he had wanted to stay in the car. Yet, just knowing that he was there beside her, brought her some comfort.

  As she looked from his disgruntle frown, back to her car, she was tempted again by the idea of getting back inside the safety of her car, and trying this in the day time.

  Yet, it was the thought of what the men in her precinct would say about her, - “Detective Freeman is a coward...Of course she is, she's a woman. What do you expect from a woman? They all cry and scream at the drop of a dime” - that had her not doing this.

  If she was a man, she wouldn't have to worry about such talk.

  As it was, she was a woman working in a male dominate profession; she had to follow through with the task in front of – there was no turning back.

  As they entered the building, she felt the fog seep into her clothes and the chill became worse as they ascended up the stairs to the disappearing corpse's apartment.

  As they silently walked, not saying a word to each other, Genevieve noted how eerily deserted the hallway was. There were no gang members or drug dealers hanging out of doorways—making snide remarks or snickering at them. At this point, Genevieve would have been relieved to see a prostitute making inflammatory gestures at her partner.