Special Detective 03/14-03/20

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Administrator1
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Special Detective 03/14-03/20

Postby Administrator1 » Tue Mar 14, 2006 9:10 am


Administrator1
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Posts: 578
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Special Detective 03/14-03/20

Postby Administrator1 » Tue Mar 14, 2006 9:10 am

On many TV programs, detectives have special abilities—such as psychic power, an awareness of details, etc.—that help them nab the bad guy. Write a short story featuring a special detective.


You can also post your response (500 words or fewer) here.


Laruuk
 

RE: Special Detective

Postby Laruuk » Tue Mar 14, 2006 11:02 am

She looked at the thin layer of dust on the floor; her black-soled shoes left prints behind her. The interior was dark and musty, cobwebs wafting in the breeze. There were few houses in this part of Alaska with electricity. Fortunately, it was mid-June and the temperatures were in the seventies. There wouldn’t be a need to start the wood stove. No need to thaw the body. That’s when she smelled it.

Blood.

She could always smell the blood before she entered a murder scene. It’s thick, coppery smell nauseated her, but reminded the detective why she was here.

Swallowing her bile, she pushed the door separating the living area from the dining room and braced for the rush of sensations she knew would come. As her eyes adjusted to the room she focused on table in it's center. There was the victim. A Caucasian male, 40 to 50 years old with a short beard. He appeared to be in decent physical shape, though the blood-soaked clothing hindered a good assessment. The apparent cause of death was the meat cleaver stuck in his skull. Of course, she would have to wait for the coroner to confirm that since she wasn’t medically qualified.

The detective allowed a wan grin.

She took in the overturned chairs, broken vase, and other signs of struggle before closing her eyes. In her mind’s eye, she reconstructed the room as it should have been. Flowers on the table in the ornate blue vase, six chairs surrounding the wooden table, and a pretty lace tablecloth covering it.

She watched as the man ran into the dining room, ducking as a carving knife flew past his ear. The detective opened her eyes, following the line of flight and saw the handle of the knife sticking out of the wall. Closing her eyes again, she picked up where she left off. The victim scrambled away from the kitchen, knocking over two chairs and screaming obscenities at his attacker.

A large man with a long beard stepped into the room, meat cleaver in his hand. With three long strides, he crossed the room and stood in front of the door – almost exactly where she was standing now. The victim screamed, unable to move. The aggressor reached down and slammed the victim onto the table, knocking the wind out of him. The larger man leaned down and whispered something in the dead man’s ear.

Then the stroke fell.

Almost without warning.

The dead man quivered, even as he soiled his pants, and died. The meat cleaver sticking out of his brain-pan like an ebony grave-stone. The murderer used the victim’s shirt to wipe his hands of blood before he wiped the handle of the cleaver.

The detective opened her eyes and exhaled through her nose. Now that she knew how it happened, she had to find the perp. That was the only way to understand why. Once she understood why, she could close the case and avenge another victim.

abqwriter
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RE: Special Detective

Postby abqwriter » Tue Mar 14, 2006 1:54 pm

Waaay cool, Laruuk!  After reading this and the excerpts you've posted for critique, I'm looking forward to reading you in paperback!

Laruuk
 

RE: Special Detective

Postby Laruuk » Wed Mar 15, 2006 7:53 pm

I'm not good enough for hardcovers? ;)

Thanks Lisa.

loudermilk
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RE: Special Detective

Postby loudermilk » Thu Mar 16, 2006 4:01 am

Detective Flatbush is the best damn psychic to walk on planet earth. He is so good, his office consists of a bank of telephones with operators who answer questions and hang up on the caller before the caller is aware he had a connection. It's a 24-7 operation.

"This is Detec..."

"The butler did it."

Click. Line closed.

"Hi, this is Sheriff..."

"She hid it under the cushion."

Click.

Flatbush knows who is going to call, when, and which of his operators will take the call. When workers report for shift, they are given a stack of answers to read each time they pick up the phone. Bonuses are given to the operator who answers the most calls in a week; hence the rapid hang-ups. But Flatbush even knows who will answer the most calls and keeps the best operators "rewarded in advance."

Yes, Flatbush is the best and he knows it. He knows so much that he's bored with life.

Two days from now, Flatbush will be be found dead in his office. He'll put the barrel of his Colt .45 in his mouth and pull the triger. Then I will become the best damn psychic walking on this planet.

(dang, I need an editor even for short postings)


KarenRankowitz
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RE: Special Detective

Postby KarenRankowitz » Fri Mar 17, 2006 2:38 pm

Part I

Detective Sergeant Marcus Ranks listened keenly to the storeowner describe what transpired only moments ago. A robbery, several hundred dollars taken, the perpetrator concealing an apparent weapon.  However, the description of the mask he wore struck a chord with Marcus. He knew the perp. Not because the pattern fit or the small area where several other robberies similar in motive had occurred.

 

Marcus could walk a crime scene and become the scene, the perpetrator; even the weapon if one was used.   A true gift, though he felt cursed. Daily, he lived on the edge of the abyss never knowing if today would be the day he’d plummet to the bottom.

 

The best advice he offers to the new detectives always starts with a question; what is the best way to catch a criminal?  The new guys’ answers range from  quoting from the book to ‘being careful’.  Marcus’ answer:  “By becoming a criminal”.  His unorthodox approach attempts to get his guys to think more like the criminal and explains his proven track record in the department.

 

Part II

 

“Hey, Lieutenant, Marcus is down in lockup with a burglary suspect just brought in, and, man, he’s loosing it.”  The dispatcher rolled away from the desk, as Lt. Maynard looked at the TV monitor.

 

“Who the hell, put him in there with him?” Maynard questioned with disgust. 

 

“Osbourne, that moron, He oughta be written up”, replied Curtis.

 

Maynard rushed down the one flight of stairs with Osbourne following, his head hung, knowing his promotion was just blown.  Unlocking the door to the holding tank, Osbourne cuffed the guy and brought him to an available interview room.

 

“Look, Marcus, we need a statement but not until you pull it together.” Lt. Maynard informed the Detective.

 

“LT, I have one rule, to catch the bad guy, ya gotta be a bad guy.”  Marcus said with conviction.

 

“Yeah, well, put that in writing, And man, your one phone call better be to a damn good lawyer, you’re gonna need one.” Maynard replied and left Marcus to write his statement and sign on the guilty line.


abqwriter
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RE: Special Detective

Postby abqwriter » Fri Mar 17, 2006 4:41 pm

Narcissism almost ruined Alicia Markoff. 

Instead, that evil aberration of human nature hewed within the painful angst of her childhood a miraculous gift to the world.

No bruises marred her alabaster skin, and no scars lay hidden beneath the folds of the plaid skirt the young child wore to the School of Everlasting Annunciation.  In fact, only one soul recognized the damage wrought on this girl, and with a solitary voiced concern, her grandmother was barred from further contact.

Alicia lived in the shadow of her father, anticipating every whim and want before the word was spoken.  When she guessed right, he smiled generously and praised the sensitive child.  When she was wrong and failed to know beforehand what her father desired, she was banned for weeks at a time from his affection. 

Subjugating her thoughts, Alicia melded her mind to meet the harsh demands of her father.  Servility replaced rebellion.  Her honed senses waited for the chance finally to be good enough for her father’s love.

It was just after Thanksgiving and only a few months past Alicia’s twenty-first birthday that a young child was found dead in the woods near Alicia’s home.  Saddened yet fascinated, Alicia walked to the crime scene.  The body, covered with a blanket, lay on the ground.

Alicia shuddered as scenes flashed unbidden in her mind.

She was running, running for her life and screaming in terror.  The man was gaining on her.  Her little legs burned with each new step through the thick shrubbery.  If only she could make it to her hideout in the woods, she’d be safe.  Maybe he wouldn’t find her there.

Then she was in the man’s body, the little girl running ahead until she stumbled over a log beneath the shrubs.  He had her now.  The child pierced him with wide, black eyes and tried to scream, but no sound escaped.  Grabbing a large branch from the ground, he swung hard until he felt the connection and heard the crunching of bones as the child crumpled and lay still.

Alicia was running again, now away from the child.  The man’s arms were shaking, his legs quivering until they felt like lead as each foot lifted and carried the man closer to the jeep, its motor still humming in expectation of escape.  Behind the jeep she ran.

Understanding came in a flash.  The license plate!  Alicia had seen it clearly as she passed behind the jeep!

Ducking beneath the police tape, she cried out to the investigators at the scene.  “The license plate!  I saw it!”

It was that clue that led to the arrest and conviction of one Samuel G. Harrison, a two-time loser.  And this time he was going down for life.  Never again would he hurt another child.

It was among the investigators that Alicia finally found a place that felt like home and thrived among her peers.

She was finally good enough just the way she was.    


tlw88
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RE: Special Detective 03/14-03/20

Postby tlw88 » Mon Mar 20, 2006 7:10 pm

The stranger, in a long black leather coat and dark gloves, appeared from the harbor one bitter evening. The high collar and the brim of his gray fedora concealed his face. He trudged down the cobblestone street to a quaint Inn. Inside was Miss Hill sweeping the lobby. She glared at his dark glasses and the handkerchief covering his mouth. A winter guest at the Inn was rare, so procuring a room wasn't difficult. He acquired the room closest to the washroom. That evening, Lily, a young maid, knocked on his door surprised to see him hiding in the darkness, "Can I be of assistance? She said. The handkerchief muffled his voice. "I wish not to be disturbed, please relay that to the staff". He slammed the door. In the morning Lily brought him breakfast he responded "put it on the ground and leave". She went back later to find the empty serving dish on the floor. The locals' chatter consumed with speculation. "He just want privacy", Lily proclaimed, "An escaped criminal", "A sleuth in disguise". "A spy!" Everyone grew suspicious especially the police and surprised that no one could recall his name. One night as the bar patrons were drinking, they mocked the visitor. Suddenly Gus crashed to the ground. Then struck violently and hurled across the floor. "What's going on?" cried Gus. "It's the grim reaper!" yelled Whitby laughing, "Go ahead and laugh, how about the robber at the general store. They say it look like he was fighting the air. Explain that?" No one could explain either instance. The men later retired to their homes. Later that night there was a disturbance. Someone walking suspiciously through the park, suddenly something came round his neck, he tried to raise his head, but couldn't. "You fooled them all, didn't you?" whispered a voice. He made a vain clutch at nothing and went flying through the air plowing through the shrubbery. The voice laughed. He struggled to his feet. He swung in the air. Hit again under the jaw, and tumbled to the ground. Struck in the chest, hurled back. He gasped for breath. He attempted to crawl away, but fell forward on his face. He opened his mouth to shout, but something was thrust between his teeth. He struggled for another moment and then lay still against the pavement. The next morning, the thud on the steps alerted the policemen. They opened the door to see Milo, the blacksmith, bound and gagged, a disheveled mess beside him the stolen belongings of guests at the Inn. Attached to him a note:

"They are unbelievably brazen but not very bright, what they think to gain I cannot imagine. This is only the beginning. This will no longer be a haven for criminals! Be Warned! This is a new era. One in which I reign! They may hide themselves, disguise themselves, or blame others. Their judgment awaits. Let the chase begin!"

Lieutenant Kane turned the folded sheet over, signed "The Invisible Detective".

Mustang Suzy
 

RE: Special Detective

Postby Mustang Suzy » Wed Mar 29, 2006 11:23 am

That was funny Loudermilk

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