The Alexandru Chronicles: The Beginning

by Julienne Holmes

  There was a familiar coldness about it. Yet, he didn't feel dead, just...cold.

  Genevieve couldn't really put her finger on, what it was that bothered her about Cirpian's skin's temperature; just that she got this unsettling feeling about touching him. It was a strange feeling, one that she couldn't quite figure out nor did she have the patience to try.

  After throwing the covers back and getting up from the bed, she, leaning down, gently skimmed her lips across his brow.

  It didn't take long for her to take a shower and get dress. Where she started having problems, though, was trying to put on her make-up.

  There were no mirrors in any of the typical places; like the bathrooms or even the bedrooms. Hell, there didn't seem to be any mirrors around the entire house. She had spent ten minutes trying to find a mirror upstairs. First going from room to room and then eventually, when no mirror seemed to appear out of thin air, she headed downstairs—hoping to find a mirror in the library or the foyer.

  It was when Genevieve had ultimately given up on the idea of looking for a mirror, that she decided on using the small mirror in her compact to try and put her makeup on. Since practically every room had dim lighting, she decided that the best place would be the kitchen; since the lighting wasn't the same yellowish glow as the other rooms, but this pleasant white light emanating from the light fixtures.

  Once she had entered the kitchen, Genevieve, after turning the coffee pot on, hastily plopped herself down at the kitchen table, and started struggling with her make-up.

  If any woman had ever tried putting her make-up on, with a small compact mirror, they knew how difficult it was and could sympathize with Genevieve's frustrations.

  First it was her foundation, which was more work than it should have been; she had to hold the mirror with her left hand and smooth a dab of the foundation over her face – making sure the foundation was evened out. After the problematic foundation, Genevieve then decided to just finish up with some light eye shadow and call it a day – she had no patience with the eyeliner, and the idea of poking her eye out, just didn't sound like too much fun.

  When first coming into the kitchen Genevieve had been so focused on her make-up, and her brain had been so laced with grogginess, that she had only had the cognitive ability to turn on the coffee pot. Yet, once her grogginess had dissipated somewhat, this due largely to the effects of coffee induced caffeine, she was able to get a better look around the kitchen.

  The problem with this kitchen—at least this was the conclusion she had come to—was there were modern accessories mixed in with kitchen accessories, that looked to be more suited for the fifties or eighties. There was also that blasted wine cellar, that had her curiosity screaming for her to go down in to it; it bothered her like a pestering mosquito.

  It was on her second cup, when the caffeine started to have more of an effect on her than the first cup, that her gaze, for the fifth time, went straight to that wine cellar.

  For some odd reason, every time she tried to pull her gaze away from the cellar door, she found herself, again, drawn over in that direction.

  Once Genevieve had drained her last cup of coffee, she put the cup next to the sink and made that short distance over to the wine cellar.

  As she stood across from the door, just looking at it, it was then that she noticed the pad lock.

  It was a fairly new goldish lock, that, at least to Genevieve, appeared very much out of place in the pristine kitchen.

  Fingering the smooth surface, she wondered, to herself, why she couldn't seem to shake the strangeness that she got from not just the sight of that pad lock, but the wine cellar, itself? Since first laying eyes upon that cellar, she had had this unbearable urge to go down into it; yet, if possible, the goldish pad lock made that urge worse.

  If it hadn't been for the slight creak from the stairs, Genevieve might have stood there for a few minutes more; just pondering about that locked cellar door. As it was, when she heard this creaking sound, she automatically assumed that Cirpian was up and descending down the stairs. Hastily dropping the lock, she hurried out of the kitchen to the stairs; expecting to meet Cirpian at the bottom. Yet, when she got over to stairs, there was no one there.

  As she stood there just looking around, she finally stood on her tippy toes, and gazed perplexedly over at the library; where she noticed that there was no light on. After Genevieve had shrugged away this nervous shiver, that ran up and down her back, she was just turning to head back toward the kitchen, when she caught a strange, translucent, figure, upstairs, darting into one of the bedrooms. It was this translucent figure that had her surprisingly straining her neck to stare up the stairs.

  She was just about to follow who or whatever it was, when she abruptly halted in her tracks at the sound of the grandfather clock, in the library, chiming that it was half-past six.

  After glancing down at her watch, Genevieve decided that her curiosity would have to wait. Besides, she couldn't avoid her Captain nor could she afford to be tardy today.

  He had left a very disgruntle voice mail message. Basically, he had said that if she didn't show-up or have a very good excuse on why she wasn't showing up for work today – clearly he hadn't taken it in to account, that she had shown up yesterday—she would have to file for unemployment.

  Glancing from the kitchen to the stairs, Genevieve found herself overbearingly curious. Her curiosity was to the point of boiling over; she didn't just want a find away into that wine cellar to investigate, but she wanted to know what it was that she saw running into that spare bedroom—next to the master. Yet, it was ultimately her rational judgment, that won out – the idea of losing her job, just didn't sound that appealing to her.

  So with her curiosity stored away, for a later time, she left the house.

  XXX

  Genevieve knew the moment she hit Tucson. Goodbye nice mountain air and hello car AC.

  The moment she parked her car across from the precinct, and got out, she could feel the difference in temperature; it would most likely be another scorcher today.

  She was just ascending the precinct's steps, when she was taken off guard by Kyle hurriedly coming out of the building and grabbing her by the arm.

  “We need to get over to the U of A...They found a dead body, and from what the responding officer told the dispatcher, this is apparently a homicide.”

  As he dragged her in the direction of his car, she hastily yanked her arm away from him. Just the thought that a homicide could have happened over at the college, that Jewel was attending, had Genevieve's anxiety going through the roof.

  While no place in Tucson was technically safe, she would have thought that the U of A was safer than most. It had mostly college students, along with professors, that populated it's property; little narrow minded kids, who hadn't yet matured past high school, but were trying to, by getting their first taste of freedom – life away from home.

  Only on rare occasions had she heard of a violent incident, actually, happening on the campus; more like a brawl between two drunken frat boys.

  Probably one of the incidents that wasn't as bad as say two stupid pricks slugging it out between one another, was what Jewel, herself, had told her; one of the Residence Advisers had caught a couple having sex in their dorm room.

  All and all, the U of A seemed like a pretty innocent place to be.

  Hastily adverting Kyle over to her Chevy Cruze, she said, “We'll take my car.”

  Once they had pulled out of the parking lot and were heading toward the U of A, Kyle turned around in his seat to look at her.

  “Gen..., can I ask you something?”

  Not adverting her gaze away from the road, she said, “Okay...what?”

  “What's your problem with sports cars?”

  “I don't have a problem with sports cars.”

  “Really..., because not too long ago, you called mine and your sister's a piece shit.”

  “Okay..., I hate bumping my head on the low ceilings and I alw
ays have to work out every muscle in my body, just to get in and out of the car...To me, those kinds of cars, our torture mechanisms...they should be against the law...”

  “Last time I looked, Amelia's car wasn't that hard to get into.”

  “Well..., I have to admit, that it's a lot easier to get into than most sports cars that I've had the displeasure of being in...Yet, the real reason that I don't like it, is that I believe that a car shouldn't cost more than my rent...Hell, the clothes that I own cost less than Amelia's car; combined.”

  Shaking his head, he smiled. “Gen..., that's just stupid on all levels.”

  “I don't think so...”

  “Yea, you wouldn't.”

  “Okay...Well, let me ask you a question...What's more stupid...Putting yourself in debt for one of these sports cars, because, not to state the obvious, but yours is truly a fixer repair daily piece of shit; don't deny it?”

  “I'm not deny anything...”

  Continuing, Genevieve says, “Or buying a car that's affordable, reliable, has good gas mileage and won't have me running to a mechanic, every time the stupid AC doesn't work or the car starts making really fucked up noises every time I turn the wheel.”

  “My Mustang has a lot of faults, that's one thing I'll admit..., but don't you be dissing the steering; it has great steering...”

  Genevieve scoffed. “Yea...sure, I suppose every car makes that gasping, screeching, sound when you turn the wheel; my mistake, I should listen to my car more often...Oh...wait.., I do...” she smiled sarcastically at him.

  “Gen..., sometimes you can be a real bitch.”

  With that same sarcastic smile on her face, Genevieve looked back at the road. She noticed out of the corner of her eye, how Kyle disgruntledly shrugged down into his seat.

  For the remainder of that drive, her and Kyle didn't say a word.

  It didn't take long for them to get over to the U of A – surprising since it took a person about twenty minutes or more to just battle the Tucson traffic. Yet, as it was, Genevieve was surprised to find herself pulling into the U of A; in no time at all. The moment she pulled up and over to the drop off zone space, she was met by this disconcerting sensation. In the past, her visits to the campus, had been to solely see her sister, not to investigate a murder; this would be her first homicide at this campus.

  Once she had parked in the drop off zone area, her and Kyle hastily made their way to the tapped off area. As they approached the crime scene, she quickly fished her identification out of her pocket and flashed it to the police officer behind the crime scene tape.

  Once they had been permitted to enter, both her and Kyle headed in the direction of the crime scene.

  It hadn't taken Genevieve long to smell that familiar stench of blood. It first made it's presence known by wafting itself from their crime scene over to her car; she had thought the stench smelled potent then. Yet, it had taken crossing that tape, for the stench to become more pungent.

  The moment Genevieve laid eyes on their crime scene, she noticed the blood splatter on the banana yellow Charger's glistening paint job. This whole crime scene was a grotesquely, pungent, blood bath; there was so much blood, that the car had patches of blood on it's roof, hood, doors, and splatters on the windows.

  The one thing that shouldn't have baffled Genevieve, yet did, was how that Charger hadn't been towed. Considering that it was not even parked in the no parking zone, but on the grass, she would have thought the campus officials would have had a problem with it being there – then again, maybe they did and that was the reason for the body being found.

  The body wasn't still present, for it had already been taken away to the morgue.

  So, all there was, was this blood. This horrible nauseous sight and smell, that had Genevieve's stomach instinctively lurching—no matter how long she was a homicide detective, both the sight and smell of blood would always bother her.

  “Our victim's name is Nathan Mark.”

  “Nathan...Mark...?”

  “Yea..., anyway, he's a basketball player and quite a ladies man. At least that's what the rumor is around this campus.”

  “Are there any witnesses?”

  “Nope...He does have a girlfriend, though.”

  “A girlfriend? He's a ladies man, and he has a girlfriend?”

  “Yea, that didn't make any sense to me either, but she is the one that found him and she claims that she's his girlfriend.”

  “One of them.” Genevieve mumbled under her breathe.

  Sighing, she turned to head over to the girlfriend. It was then, that she noticed out of the corner of her eye, her sister standing off to the side, with a congregating group of students.

  Adverting her stride over to her sister, she said over her shoulder, “You handle the girlfriend...” not even waiting for a reply, she hurried toward her sister.

  “Jewel...”

  The moment Jewel heard her sister's voice, she was instantly yanked out of her trance to the strong authoritative woman that now stood in front of her.

  “Gen..., what are you doing here?” almost instantaneously Jewel regretted asking this question; from the crime scene tape and the officers, it was none too obvious – her sister was working.

  Smiling, Genevieve said, “I'm working...Don't you have class?”

  “Ah...” almost instantly she noticed how nervous Jewel became. “I was just heading there.”

  Taking her sister gently by the arm, Genevieve led her away from a few nosy girls, that were trying to listen in on their conversation. Once they were a safe distance away, she said, “Jewel..., did you see anything last night...?”

  “No...I didn't work, last night...”

  “Oh...So, you got a new job?”

  “Yea..., QB should be pretty ecstatic about that.”

  Sighing, Genevieve said, “Jewel...You shouldn't let what I say about Amelia affect your relationship with her...A lot of what I say is just me spouting off and giving her a hard time...” when all Jewel did was stoically stare a her, she said, “I know, that most of the time she's difficult to get along with, but she really does love you...And, while it may not seem like it, now..., she wants the best for you...”

  “Right...” nervously looking past Genevieve, Jewel said, “I have to get to class.”

  It was as she was watching her sister depart, that her partner walked up. “Okay, I talked to the girlfriend...According to her, she didn't see him last night...” noticing the perplexed look on Genevieve's face, he said, “Gen..., are you okay?”

  “Yea...did you get directions to our victim's dorm room?”

  “Yep...the supposed girlfriend told me what dormitory his room was located in.”

  XXX

  By the time they got to the dormitory and upstairs to their victim's dorm room, Genevieve was already regretting the fact that she had given up on using that treadclimber that she had gotten for Christmas two Christmases ago.

  Well, at least using it for it's true purpose. She had mostly found a use for it, by draping either her damp clothes over it or using it as a nice coat rack.

  She hadn't even a chance to catch her breathe or massage the painful stitch in her side, before her and her partner were starting their search for any clues that might help them in their investigation.

  As she picked through the papers on Nathan's desk and her partner went through his closet, it was Kyle, suddenly saying, “Ah...” that had her abruptly halting in her search.

  “You find something?”

  “Yep...” turning to look at him, she saw him holding a little black book. While he flipped through it, he said, “This guy sure had a full calendar...I'm positive that if it was me, I would have either flunked out of college or this amount of action would have eventually killed me.”

  “If your mother hadn't for flunking...” Genevieve smiled sweetly at him.

  Snickering, he laughed. Yet, it was when he got to the last entry of the book, that his laugh died in his throat and was abruptly replaced wi
th a frown. “Um..., Gen...” looking up at her, he said, “You might want to look at this.”

  Kyle gingerly handed the book of conquest to his partner, who puzzlingly stared down at the page that he had been looking at.

  It took Genevieve's brain a few seconds to comprehend what she was actually seeing.

  Yet, even afterwords, she was still having a hard time processing that last entry.

  XXX

  As Jewel made her way back to her dorm room, she couldn't help thinking about what had happened to Nathan.

  All of her classes had been canceled due to his death. And there were so many people who were devastated over what had happened to him – the majority were, of course, young women.

  Really Jewel hadn't known what to feel for Nathan, she hadn't known him that well and to be honest she hadn't paid much attention to him. He was just another college kid, that she wouldn't see after graduation.

  Yet, still, the shock of how brutal his death was, was enough to snap any free spirited dreamer out of her imagination. She spent so much time in her head, that she really hadn't left room to think of whether or not there were monsters lurking in the dark.

  When Jewel finally got to her dorm room, she was so lost in her thoughts, that she was very much surprised to see her sister leaning against her door.

  “Gen..., what are you doing here?!” pulling her key out, she unlocked her door.

  “We need to talk.”

  Before she could even say anything, Genevieve, opening the door, rushed her inside.

  After closing the door securely behind her, Genevieve turned to look at Jewel and her dorm room. For those few brief moments all she could do was look around the room. It was nice, considering how cramped it was. The single dorm room, had always reminded Genevieve of a shoe box; not very cozy for anyone that was claustrophobic—no wonder Amelia rarely came to visit Jewel, she didn't like tight, confined, places.

  Once Genevieve had scanned the room and the pictures on the wall of her and Amelia – none of their brother in-law, that was no big surprise—her gaze returned to Jewel.