Steve’s shorts: You Know I’m Watching…
You Know I’m Watching
A “Detectives Chen and Castilblanco” Homicide Case
Copyright 2018, Steven M. Moore
Preface
While I don’t know if there will be another Chen and Castilblanco novel, they still continue to have homicide cases to solve. This little mystery/crime novella describes one of them. Enjoy.
r/Steve
Chapter One
We stood outside the victim’s apartment, but I peered inside from time to time to see if the CSU was coming up with anything.
“Just a lot of blood so far,” said Chen, after losing patience with me and interrupting her perusal of her NYPD-issued smart phone. Useful and indispensable now, but mine was in my coat pocket.
“A shot in the neck can do that,” I said, turning my gaze from the CSIs to the starred window and broken glass on the floor. “We need to get in there and establish the line-of-sight to where the shot originated.”
“They’re looking for that too. That abandoned building across the street would be my guess.” She returned to her smart phone. “We have an ID. The vic’s name is Sharon Hill, and she’s an employee of a small accounting firm with a branch office not far from here. Thirty-two, unmarried, no roommates.”
“Good salary then in this rental market. MBA? CPA?” She nodded twice. “We’ll need to interview that branch’s employees.”
We were reduced to chatting about our kids. Ceci and Pedrito were older than the new addition to Chen’s family, so I had more young antics to talk about. But thankfully we were soon allowed to enter as the CSU packed up. Chen took the vic’s old desk; I popped two Tums and began my rounds in the tiny apartment. Knew the CSIs were thorough, but they sometimes miss little things—like something that’s out of place or hidden away. With a big family and a wife who was picky about décor, I’d leaned a bit about the first, and NYC dwellers were often security conscious.
Found nothing of consequence, though, so I returned to the main living area, parked on one of the stools at the counter of the galley kitchen, and watched Chen.
I soon detected a strong odor. The CSU had taken the kitchen garbage, but the odor came from there. Olfactory memories are generally not reliable, but I knew this one. My wife Pam drank a lot of tea. Checked cupboards. Sure enough, Sharon Hill was a tea addict. Saw some types that I’ve never heard of. My meditation guru wanted me to start drinking green tea, which was only a bit better than the slimy smoothies Chen drinks, but that type of tea wasn’t present in the cupboard. But there were many labeled glass jars filled with imported teas. I made a mental note about the quirky addiction—people’s habits are sometimes useful in a homicide investigation.
Chen, without looking in my direction, interrupted my thoughts. “We’ll have to check with the crime lab about the phone and laptop. I assume the IT people are working on them. But I found something interesting.”
I put on a new set of rubber gloves and took the sheaf of papers Chen offered. The very first one had letters snipped out of magazines that formed the following message: “You know I am watching.” I flipped through about a dozen or so more sheets. Some explicitly described what the sender was going to do to Sharon Hill. Others were just generally threatening. Still others promised to be faithful to her for the rest of the sender’s life.
“She had a stalker. Curious. I thought no one read paper magazines anymore. Maybe the perp’s an older fellow. Why didn’t the CSU find these?”
“Secret compartment,” said Chen, flashing her Asian Mona Lisa smile. I glanced at the desk, one of those old louvered models you might find at an auction or estate sale—I’d attended some with my wife Pam. “Eric loves them.”
Figured. Her husband, ATF agent Eric Kumala, was too uptight and prissy for my taste. Good father, though. “Maybe goes with the job.” Was referring to the fact that, although Eric wasn’t CIA, he was a bit of a spook and worked undercover a lot. Thought a moment. “Perp could be a co-worker. But with all these descriptions of what he wanted to do to her, why shoot her through a window?” Punched a number in my call list to connect to the other half of the CSU. “Find the origin of the kill shot yet?”
“Empty building across the street.” Chen’s guess was correct. I nodded to her. “Third floor. No shell casings, but the dusty floor shows footsteps and kneeling at the broken window. About size 11 shoes, detective. Probably a big man.”
“Take lots of pics, Jamie,” I said, “and send them to Chen and me. Check for partials and DNA too.”
“Already done. We didn’t find anything.”
***
After we finished at the crime scene, decided I wanted to see the sniper’s nest, so we walked across the street. Like many abandoned buildings in the area, I guessed greedy landlords had raised rents so high that no one could afford them. They now sat on decaying buildings waiting and hoping a developer would come along, buy the lot, and put up a highrise. City was constantly changing that way.
The third floor apartment in question would have been a nice place once upon a time. It was similar to Sharon Hill’s, but the lack of building occupants, discounting the rats and cockroaches, had led to its general state of decay.
Saw the footprints and kneel marks on the dusty hardwood floors. Ignored them because we had pics. Went to the window and kneeled, sighting across to the vic’s apartment.
“Vic might have been at her laptop,” I said, “or getting ready to use it. Straight line-of-sight to someone sitting there.” Paused to think. “About a hundred yards or so.”
“They didn’t find the bullet,” Chen said. “I’m guessing a rifle, though.”
“Agreed. Torso’s a bigger target, so the perp might have gone for the kill with a head shot, and it was a little low.”
“Ex-military?”
“Maybe. Or someone who does a lot of target practice.”
(To be continued….)
***
Comments are always welcome.
The Midas Bomb. #1 in the “Detectives Chen and Castilblanco Series,” this mystery/thriller novel brings together the detectives for the first time as they try to solve two homicide cases. The first victim is an old SEAL buddy of Castilblanco; Chen’s case involves a Wall Street banker as victim and her fraternal twin brother, a doctor, as near victim. Discovering the connection between the two leads to a conspiracy involving a hedge fund owner and a dirty bomb. This is where it all started, and the story is more current today than when it was written. Available in ebook format from Amazon and Smashwords and all the latter’s associated retailers (Apple iBooks, B&N, Kobo, etc) as well as in a print version available on Amazon. The ebook version is on sale now at Smashwords for $0.99, but only for a week.
In libris libertas!
