Alright, so some of you may know I requested Strop lock my old thread, the_manta's Ramblings.
Well I did. It had been dead for a long time anyway, but I also thought there was WAY too much offtopicness in between, and, being me, I would not stand for that.
And now, this is my new writing and whatnot thread, so now I'm going to repost a few of my segments that I have so far for my popular "Blackout Murder" story among other stories I have. For the sake of people who may not have read it before and don't want to read through a wall of text, I won't post the whole thing, just 3 segments. I'll repost 3 more later, then the next 3 when I finally have the next part out, most likely tomorrow.
The Blackout Murder
Part 1
It was a quiet night. The television was off and the sole source of light in the room was the small table lamp. The house was in a tiny, scarcely travelled neighborhood, anyway. It wasn't often a car came by, or evena bus, and if a car did come by, they were usually hopelessly lost. It was perfect book-reading ambience.
Meet Gerard Spencer, a small-time detective from a little town in Texas. He was a younger man, only 27, and an average-looking guy, with a long nose and a small, almost disapproving mouth. Then there were his eyes; one was Brown, the other was a deep green color. He wore sunglasses when he went out. Even if the sun wasn't out. He had a deep brown color of hair, and he usually like to keep it somewhat long, but his new barber had just given him a really bad haircut. It was much shorter than he liked it, and, on top of that, unevenly cut. Gerard was pretty muscular, but he didn't flaunt it. In fact, He usually denied it when somebody told him about it.
Right now, Gerard was taking a break from his detective work. Nothing especially long: just a week or so. He was overworked more recently, and needed some rest. That was exactly what Gerard planned to do. He was at home right now, reading Moby ****. He'd been telling himself to read it for months, but was just now able to get to it.
Without warning, the power flashed off and on. "Splendid," thought Gerard, "The third time tonight. My cable will be messed up for weeks." He passed the outage off as nothing important, but began thinking out loud to himself, "Hmmm... There are never more than 2 outages that are that short around here. Or for that matter, there are never any power outages around here. Most of the people in this neighborhood are... electronically impaired." Again, he flicked it off his shoulder like it was nothing.
As he plopped back in his chair to read the book again, a blood-curdling scream pierced the quiet. Gerard heard the sounds of doors slamming and then shoes hitting the pavement. He looked outside and saw a large crowd of people gathered around on Mr. and Mrs. Chandler's front lawn.
Gerard let out a heavy sigh. "Looks like I'm back in business," he lamented.
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Part 2:
In which Detective Spencer suspects foul play
A group of Policemen and their cars were outside on the Chandlers' lawn.
"Cause of death?" The gruff voice came from Captain Stephen Randall, captain of the local homicide unit.
He was a tall, tough-looking guy with broad shoulders, with light hair and a rugged face. He had green eyes and an emotionless mouth. His years of homicide work had hardened him. He had on a gray suit over a white button-up shirt, complete with slacks. He had a nice attitude, with a good sense of humor, but he was no-nonsense when it came to his work.
"Uh... Piercing wound to the heart by a knife," Stephen's lieutenant, Stanley Fairbanks replied. "We think that while he was taking a knife to the dinner table, the power went out, he slipped, fell, and landed on the knife."
Stanley was scrawny and meek-looking, especially compared to his commanding officer. Kind of short, pretty skinny, and he had a thin face. He didn't have too many distinguishing features, except His ears were larger than those of the average person. He was much more laid-back than Stephen, and didn't always stick to the subject, but he got his work done.
"Oh, yeah? How do you know the wife didn't kill him?"
"It's not possible. She was at the shopping mall when he was killed. He was just getting home from work, and she had already eaten. Besides that, there isn't a motive."
"And there's no evidence of an intruder or a struggle?"
"Nope. No fingerprints, no broken glass, no footprints... It all just seems to be a massive fluke."
"It's too bad,"Said the captain, accompanied by a heavy sigh, " was hoping for something interesting. Nothing ever happens in this rinky-dink little town."
Just then, Gerard arrived on the scene. He approached his colleagues, Stanley and Stephen. He had worked with The two whenever they were having trouble with one of their cases, but he decided to pop in and check out the case since it was just across the street.
"So, old Mason's dead, huh?" He looked up at the door to the house. "It's too bad. I heard he just surprised Ellie with a pool." He chuckled to himself, "He told me just the other day that she said no, but old Mason insisted."
"That is too bad," said Stephen.
"Maybe I should get a pool," said Stanley. The lieutenant's rambling mind was his fatal flaw.
"Hey, one of my friends is dead. Let's be a little more respectful."
"Sorry, Ger," was Stanley's reply. He knew Gerard hated that nickname, but didn't seem to care.
Gerard continued, "Let's move on. What time did he die, Steve?"
"We think sometime between 7:30 and 8:00. He had a meeting and didn't get home until around 7:15 and probably began to make dinner about 15-45 minutes later. The power went out three times between 7:30 and 8:00."
Gerard had already asked Ellie what happened, and didn't bother asking how he died again. "Mind if I check out the body before your guys take it away, Steve?"
"Not a problem, he's right in the kitchen."
***
"So, the knife pierced right through his heart? That seems unlikely, to say the least."
"Well, it's the only logical explanation, since he was the only person here." Stanley wasn"t too sure of it either, but it was all he had to work with.
"So, how did he fall? The power was only out for about 3 seconds."
"Take a look near the floor. There is a puddle of water right by his feet. Do you see it? He probably didn't notice it when the lights went out and slipped in it. He dropped the knife and landed on it."
"Oh, yeah- wait a second, it's perfectly rounded at the edges. No slide marks or anything. And his shoes aren't even wet. Besides, if the lights were out for about 3 seconds at a time, I think he would have noticed it before."
"Oh, say, we didn't notice that." Said Stephen, slightly dumbfounded, "But it doesn't change anything. There wasn't anybody home but Mason. We even have Ellie's Credit card records to prove she didn't murder anybody- She bought $117 worth of clothes at Penny's at 7:21, a $40 microwave from Sear's at 7:37 and a $55 pair of shoes from PayLess at 7:57. It's just not possible, and the lack of motive makes it even less possible." Captain Randall had this all jotted down in his notepad.
Gerard shook his head in contemplation before responding.
"Well, maybe that is the case. Maybe this is just a horrible accident, but I'm having some slight doubts. whatever it is, this doesn't feel right... Go ahead and take the body away, I'll stay alert until I can find out exactly what happened." He stared through the window, unmoving. "Nothing like this has happened in this town since Tony Stain went missing."
Everyone stood silent for a moment, before Stephen spoke up.
"Alright, we'd better carry this body away before it rots up the place. Go home, Gerard, get some rest. You need it."
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~The Blackout Murder Part 3~
In which our hero decides to question Mr. Johann.
Gerard decided that if he was ever going to find out what was going on, he needed to ask around. But he had no idea where to start. There were no witnesses at all. So, that only left people that were nearby when the murder happened.
Everyone was home at the time, as it happened, so Gerard would ask Ellie's neighbors. She had three; one to the left, one to the right, and one behind her. He thought he'd ask Mr. Johann, Her neighbor to the left, first.
Mr. Johann was watching tv in the den when he heard a knock on his front door. "****... The IRS is after me again!" He pulled the door open and was face-to-chest with Gerard.
Mr. Johann was a very small man, and he was in his mid-50s. His wife had inexplicably divorced him last year (and managed to remarry 1 month later), but he lived neear his son, So he wasn't totally alone.
"Listen, you, I pay my taxes just like any other U.S. citizen!" He began to raise raise a fist.
Gerard interrupted the disoriented-looking man. "Hey! Stop! I'm here to question you about the accident yesterday!"
Mr. Johann paused for a moment, then continued his attack on the "IRS agent."
The confused and slightly angry detective was forced to subdue the equally confused man. He grabbed the oncoming fist, turned Mr. Johann around, and held his arm behind his back. "Listen to me. I am not whoever you think I am. I am Detective Gerard Spencer, and I am here to ask you about the fatal accident yesterday. Now, will you cooperate with me or not? Because if you don't, I will call the cops on you for attempted assault." Gerard wasn't even entirely sure if that was even a real charge, but as long as Johann didn't either, it didn't matter.
The Little man agreed.
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"So, Mr Johann, you were home yesterday between 7:00 and 8:00, correct?"
"Yes, That's right. The game was on. The Cowboys vs. The Red Sox, don't you know?"
Gerard wanted to correct him, but he didn't know what Johann meant to say in the first place. "Right... So, did you see or hear anything suspicious?"
"Like what?"
"Did you hear any loud noises or signs of a struggle, or maybe see someone out late at night carrying something?"
"Now that you mention it... I heard a pair of tires screeching next door. It sounded like they were in a tremendous hurry."
"That's good! Could you tell which neighbor it came from?"
"The young lady who lives to the right of me. I reckon she was trying to beat traffic." Mr. Johann sat in contemplation for a moment. "Why are you questioning me, anyway? The police are convinced it's an accident."
"I just need to make sure of eactly what happened. I don't want to let a criminal go on without consequences." Gerard carried on, "So you didn't see or hear anything else? Nothing?"
"Nope. Just some screeching tires."
Gerard jotted that down. "Ok, well thank you for your forced cooperaton. ...And, a tip: don't punch The IRS, ok?"
"No promises," he said, rather gruffly.
Gerard Made his way to the next neighbor, a Schulz family.
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Next three in a few hours.
