Message-ID: <53845asstr$1147673401@assm.asstr.org>
From: "Wine Maker" <wine_maker@eknifeshop.com>
Mime-Version: 1.0
NNTP-Posting-Date: Sun, 14 May 2006 22:06:25 +0000 (UTC)
User-Agent: G2/0.2
Complaints-To: groups-abuse@google.com
Injection-Info: j33g2000cwa.googlegroups.com; posting-host=24.174.32.144;
   posting-account=lQ9acQ0AAABJInUbzelvor2A2ilH0RcZ
Subject: {ASSM} Finding Elvis Chapter 13 (FF, MF, Slow, Romantic Mystery)
Lines: 731
Date: Mon, 15 May 2006 02:10:02 -0400
Path: assm.asstr.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

An Erotic Vineyard Mystery. A romantic mystery that starts slowly, but
the passion builds as the plot unfolds. Homicide detective Lieutenant
Shauna Hawkins is in Vegas with her friends Ted and Lisa and has to
find out just who got married last night. As a lesbian, that might be
awkward. A series of dead bodies makes it a lot more serious. This has
a real plot and three dimensional characters. It's more than just a
wanker.

Read this story on several sites and vote on each for me. Voting for my
stories encourages me to write more. Remember to vote for each chapter
on Literotica and on the last chapter on Storiesonline.

http://storiesonline.net/auth/Wine_Maker

http://english.literotica.com/stories/memberpage.php?uid=560253&page=submissions


Chapter Thirteen: Reap the whirlwind
(c) 2006 by Wine Maker

It seemed like I'd been asleep for only a few minutes when the house
exploded in light and noise. Okay, so after I sat bolt upright in bed,
I discovered that it was only my head that exploded. I covered my ears
in pain as some horrible cacophony, at what sounded like 150 decibels,
blared from the portable CD player sitting on the dresser. Standing
next to the open curtains and window was Gretchen, dressed in her ratty
workout gear. She grinned at me.

"I'm working out in here this morning," she shouted. "Hope that's
okay."

I staggered out of bed, and the waves of noise - was that country
music? - washed over me, driving me back at the same time I was trying
to move forward. Gretchen's grin didn't waver as I reached her, but she
did look confused when instead of searching for the off switch, I
picked it up by the handle and staggered back to the wide open window
letting in about three million candles of early morning light. Without
further adieu, I tossed it out the window and there was a crash,
followed by blessed silence. Then I closed the curtains, shutting off
that damned star.

"Hey!" she objected, "I liked that CD!" Then she rushed to the window,
leaning out to look down at the rear patio, the curtain swirling around
her. "There are other people here! You could have killed someone!"

"Better them than you," I growled. I sat on the edge of the bed and
tried to hold my pounding head together with my hands and sheer
willpower. "Tell me it was Lurch. Please. I need to start off today on
a more positive note than I've had so far. And playing loud music when
I feel like this - if you can call _that_ music - is not being very
considerate, given my head this morning."

Gretchen sat down beside me. "Well, you weren't very considerate last
night, running out on me and getting drunk. Bad behavior shouldn't be
rewarded and I will _not_ enable you!"

I looked up at her astringent tone. Yeah, she was still pissed. Her
smile looked too brittle to be real. This was still about last night. I
sighed and covered my eyes. "Gee, Doctor Phil, do we really have to do
this right now?" I muttered. "I feel like shit."

"Do you want fake sympathy or honesty?" she countered.

"Can't I have both?"

Gretchen took my hand into hers, turning my face to look at her. "Last
night really upset me, Hawk."

"Me, too," I said, "but I know that's not what you mean."

"Dammit, we need to talk about this," Gretchen said quietly. "I don't
like you shutting me out of your life when you're hurting. I don't like
you drinking like a fish when life throws you a curve ball, either.
Especially with you carrying our baby."

I took a deep breath and reigned in the initial urge to just lash out.
"You're right. You don't deserve that. I could take the easy road and
just clam up, but I won't. However, I don't feel like talking about it
while my head is pounding. Your demonstration of the pitfalls of
getting sloppy drunk was effective, but it doesn't make me feel
especially cooperative. You're just going to have to be satisfied with
talking about this, and some of _my_ concerns, when both of us are in
the mood to talk. Maybe tonight?"

She looked at me, her eyes opaque, telling me nothing, but then she
nodded. "Tonight. Gunfight at the O.K. Corral. We each get to unload
about what we need out of our relationship, and we get to ask questions
with a reasonable expectation they will get answered. Deal?"

I nodded and felt like my head was going to fall off. "Only if I can
get rid of this hangover. I'm going to shower."

Gretchen bounced to her feet. "I'll go bring some food back to the room
so we can eat in peace."

"I'm not hungry," I grumbled, rising slowly and heading for the
bathroom. Stopping in the doorway, I turned to look at my wife. "I love
you."

Her smile lit up her face as bright as the dawn outside the window. "I
love you, too. Oh, and Ted told Lisa and me that he, um, got you
settled in to sleep. I don't want you to worry about it. I'm not upset,
and neither is Lisa."

I searched my foggy memories and then it came rushing back to me. His
hand between my legs, fingers inside me, and his mouth on mine as I
writhed under his touch. I flushed and looked at my feet. "I'd be lying
if I said I didn't enjoy it, but I didn't ask for that."

Gretchen took me into her arms and kissed my cheek. "I know, Hawk.
Everyone's okay with it. Besides, I think you needed that reassurance
as much as he did." Wrinkling her nose, she pushed me into the
bathroom. "Go shower. You smell awful. I'll have something out here to
eat when you're done. Take your time."

"I'm not hungry," I repeated. "Just bring me some toast." Then I closed
the door behind me and turned the dimmer switch for the lights to its
lowest setting.

In the dimness, I showered in the hottest water I could stand, for as
long as I could take it, and then climbed out, dried off and sat on the
can. The steam made my head feel better. A little.

The knock at the door jarred me awake. I'd dozed while sitting on the
toilet. Pulling off some paper, I cleaned myself. "I'll be right out.
Hang on."

When I came back into the room, the drapes were only partly closed now
and the lights _almost_ dim enough for my eyes. A small table with two
chairs had been brought in from somewhere, and there was coffee. I
could smell it. The life-giving elixir of the gods. The steam rising
from the cups beckoned me closer, like a siren luring sailors to their
deaths. The hidden rocks that destroyed the sailors' ships were the
various other foods, and they made my stomach do terrible things when I
smelled them.

I snared my coffee and retreated from the table to sit on the bed. I
gestured to the food. "All that is making my stomach flip-flop. I just
want toast."

"You need to eat something more substantial than toast, Hawk," Gretchen
protested. "You've got to eat for two."

"When my stomach feels up to eating more, I'll eat more. Right now I
want coffee, toast, aspirin and water." I sipped the coffee and let the
taste and smell of it calm my roiling belly. "When are Ted and Lisa
flying out? I'd really like to tell them goodbye and apologize for how
I behaved last night."

"Don't I get an apology?" she asked with a harrumph. "They have an
early afternoon flight so I agreed to have you presentable by nine.
That gives us about half an hour for me to eat and for you to absorb
something." She took a small plate and put some toast on it, with grape
jelly spread on it.

"What if I don't want anything on my toast?" I grouched. "Dry is good."


"Eat the toast, Baby. You'll need the energy before we're done today."

She was probably right.

-----

Half an hour later, we came downstairs and walked into the Brown Room.
Ted and Lisa were there and so was Hans. I hadn't seen him since just
after the murder, and suddenly I felt guilty for it. I walked over to
him and wrapped my arms around him. "I haven't come to see how you're
doing. I'm sorry."

Hans gave me a smile that had no life to it, but hugged me fiercely.
"I've been working, so I've been avoiding everyone. I'll just stagger
along until I get my feet back under me." He let me go and gestured for
everyone to sit down.

I smiled at Ted and Lisa before pulling a chair next to Gretchen and
sitting down gingerly. The aspirin was working, at least to the point
that I didn't feel like someone should be chasing me with crosses and
trying to drive a stake through my heart - with me more than willing to
cooperate. Gretchen crossed her legs and took my hand in hers, paying
attention to her father.

"I spoke with Gretchen's attorney this morning, and the news is mixed,"
Hans said. "The move to overturn bail was denied, obviously. However,
he is still unable to shake any information loose from the police. Oh,
and that police officer was by early this morning, and I sent him
packing rather than let him wake you both."

"What more could he want from me?" Gretchen asked, exasperated. "What
part of talk to my lawyer did he fail to understand?"

"He just wants to irritate you and piss me off," I assured her.
"Standard procedure's to keep a suspect off guard. What I really need,
Hans, is to get a look at the crime scene reports from the CSIs.
Gretchen has one feeler out, but I don't consider it very likely to pan
out. Is there any chance you might be able to get a copy?"

Hans shrugged. "Perhaps. I'll make some phone calls and see if someone
might be able to help, but I'm not overly hopeful. If you can't get
that, what's your plan?"

"The same as every day, Pinky," I said. "We try to take over the
world."

Hans blinked at me and Lisa giggled. "Can we have a puppy, Brain?" she
quipped.

I shook my head and promptly regretted it. "Just kidding. The plan is
to dig deep into who might have wanted to kill either Kat or
Cartwright, starting with a more in-depth look at Kat's office and its
contents. Did she have a safe or safe deposit box?"

Hans nodded. "She had a wall safe installed and hidden behind one of
the paintings. It seemed a bit melodramatic to me, but she wanted it. I
have the combination in my office. Let me go get it while you say your
good-byes in private." He walked over and shook Ted's hand and received
a hug from Lisa before leaving us alone.

A moment of awkward silence filled the room as I wondered what to say
to make it right, to take us back to where we all should be. Lisa, in
her usual straightforward manner, just walked over and gave me a hug.

"Don't obsess, Hawk," she said with a smile. "We talked last night and
it's all okay. Just give us, and yourselves, some time and space. Get
to know Gretchen and get her out of trouble. Then we can all take a
cruise together and see what happens, okay?"

I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her cheek. "I don't deserve
such good friends. I really do love you both."

Ted pulled Gretchen to us and we had, of all things, a group hug. Never
in my wildest dreams did I ever envision myself in a freaking group
hug. There was just something _wrong_ about the whole concept. What was
even worse was how much better it made me feel.

Finally, I pulled back and wiped my face. "I'll miss you both. Call
me when you get home, and then every night, so I can give you the scoop
on what's happening here."

Ted grinned "Count on it." Then he furtively looked at his watch.
"Lisa, we need to get moving if we're going to get to the airport on
time."

They both kissed me deeply and left me breathless. Then they repeated
the process and kissed the shit out of Gretchen.

Gretchen was still flushed when we saw them out to the car where Lurch
first held the door and then got behind the wheel to drive them to the
airport. We stood there and watched them until they were out of sight.
My wife kept her arm around my waist and hugged me tightly when they
were gone.

"I already miss them," I complained.

"Stop whining," she said with a kiss. "You still have me. Come on,
let's go see what that safe has in it."

Gretchen led us to her father's office, and we picked up the
combination. The only problem was that when we tried it upstairs, it
didn't work. Both of us tried it several times with the same results.

"Are we screwing this up, or is it just not working?" Gretchen asked.

I put my hands on my hips and stared at the recalcitrant door. "It's
not working. I think it's different than the one she gave Hans. That
makes the contents even more intriguing to me. We either have to guess
the numbers or call a locksmith."

"Or see if it's hidden in here," Gretchen suggested, surveying the
still rumpled office. "I can't see her memorizing squat. I really have
to wonder what can be so important that it needs a safe with a secret
combination. It's obviously more important than the pretty explosive
blackmail materials she kept in her locked desk, but what could beat
that?"

"Good question," I admitted. "Let's see if we can find a number written
down or taped up somewhere.  It's probably out of sight but not too far
from where she sat."

It took almost an hour, but our perseverance paid off. Gretchen found
the combination written on the back of a business card for the safe
company in her Rolodex.

When Gretchen opened the safe, we saw that it had some boxes of
jewelry, some cash and a large manila envelope. I took the envelope and
opened it, pulling out a sheaf of papers. They were notes handwritten
on very nice cream colored paper.

The contents, however, were far from pretty. Written on the expensive
bond paper were detailed notes on how to commit murder, followed by an
after action report on how the plan had worked out. Gretchen was
looking at the jewelry, bitching that it was probably her mother's. I
was grateful for having a few minutes to get my mind around what I was
reading. Kat had written down her plan: to kill Gretchen's mother and
slide into Han's life. She had used access to the house through someone
in the maid service to poison her and make it look like a suicide.
Bribed a maid for access. I hoped Hans was using a different maid
service now, but I made a mental note to check. The after action report
was written like a diary entry, with her gloating over her success. I
couldn't imagine why she would have kept these, and I wished to hell
that she hadn't.

Part of me wanted to hide this from Gretchen, to shield her from the
pain this was going to cause, but I knew that was wrong. She deserved
to know the truth. It turned out that Uncle David was right all along.
That moved him back up in my sights as a prime suspect.

"Baby," I said, "sit down. I have some bad news"

Gretchen frowned at me and sat. "It can't be too bad. Hagatha is dead."


I handed Gretchen the papers, stood behind her, and put my arms around
her as she read. She became more and more distraught as she read. I
held her through that long, painful ride even as my head threatened to
explode. When she reached the end, Gretchen turned in my arms, burying
herself in my embrace.  She railed against Kat, and then she cried like
the little girl that had lost her mother to a soulless beast. When her
initial emotions were spent, I just held her.

"It changes one thing, Baby," I said quietly. "Your mother didn't leave
you by choice. She was _taken_ from you. She didn't just abandon you to
take her own life. Keep that with you, please."

"This hurts," Gretchen said, "but it doesn't really _change_ anything.
I already hated her, and she's _still_ dead." Gretchen's voice was
flat, emotionless now that she had cried herself out. I could feel her
defenses walls going up to keep the world at bay. I guess we each had
our own way of dealing with pain. Tonight, we'd talk about this, too.

"It means we have to take a closer look at David," I said. "He was sure
she did this. What if he knew for certain? Giving the wrong details in
a confession to a DA that wants to believe you're innocent goes a long
way to providing cover. We'll _have_ to talk to him again."

Gretchen stood up and hugged me. "I don't believe he did this, but if
he did, I don't care. She deserved to die."

I couldn't argue with her about that. If anyone deserved a knife in the
heart, Kat certainly did. "Let's call Devon and make another house call
on Uncle David."

-----

We went back by Uncle David's, but he was out. A call to his cell
netted only his voicemail, so I left a message. Gretchen was abnormally
quiet, sitting in her seat, brooding.

I put my hand on her knee and squeezed. Leaning over, I spoke softly
enough so that Devon couldn't hear us. "I'm sorry, Baby. I wish I
hadn't showed you that. Giving it to you didn't do anyone any good."

Gretchen swallowed, but shook her head. "No, I needed to know. It hurts
now, but I'll be better for this later. The person we don't need to
tell is my father. This would _destroy_ him."

I sighed and shook my head. " I'm not going to fight you on this, but
he deserves to know what happened. I won't tell him. Whatever you
decide to do is how we'll play it."

She smiled at me through her fresh tears. "Thank you."

Tapping Devon on the shoulder, I pointed forward. "We might as well
head home, Devon. This looks like a dead end."

"How is de search goin'?" Devon asked as he pulled back into the
street. "De papers are still harpin' on Miz Gretchen and printing all
kinds of garbage."

"It feels like we're close," I said, "but there's still some
information missing. When I see it, I'll be able to point at the real
killer. Until then, I can only stumble around a little. Find a paper
stand, would you? I want to see what the newsies have dug up. Every
once in a while they have something useful."

Devon popped out of the Hummer, picked up a few papers and brought them
back for us. Gretchen and I started scanning them, looking for
information.

I had just finished the local paper when Gretchen started laughing. I
looked over at her, surprised. I didn't think she'd be laughing for a
while. "You got something?"

Her eyes twinkled at me as she handed a paper over. "Sort of."

It was the interior of one of the tabloid rags. A two-page, full color
spread had almost nothing but pictures. Pictures of Gretchen and me,
both together and alone. From all over Boston and the mansion. From my
dress I could tell that it was the night our nuptials had been
announced. Someone had gotten inside the house.

The text of the article was suitably inflammatory and sensationalist.
It said that she and... I clenched my fists. "I. Am. Not. Shauna.
Werner. I'm going to kill Lurch, that skinny old bastard, as soon as I
see him."

Gretchen pulled me to her and caressed my hair. "Now Hawk, let's not
get too carried away."

As she held me, I kept reading about all the chaos of the double murder
and all the slanderous innuendo about Gretchen. Then, with a growl, I
went back to looking at the pictures more closely. One at the bottom of
the second page made me curse.

"What?" Gretchen asked, looking at the picture.

It was of the stairs and showed me charging up. It had to have been
when Gretchen screamed. I pointed to the lower left corner of the
picture. Clearly visible, facing the camera, were Uncle David and our
charming Senatorial candidate Kirk. They were sipping on champagne and
just starting to turn toward the trouble. Their shirts and hands were
plainly visible and blood free.

"That screws up my entire set of theories," I said. "These two were my
strongest suspects, and now there's proof, in blazing color, that they
didn't have blood splatter just after the murders. So, the CSI evidence
excludes you, though we haven't seen it yet, and this excludes Uncle
David and Kirk. Your father was with a crowd at the time. So that drops
us back to Lurch and Vanessa, and I really don't think either of them
did it. That leaves us with only the people who were being blackmailed.
Shit! Shit! Shit! I _hate_ having to start over."

"We'll figure this out," Gretchen assured me. "There has to be evidence
that will point us in the right direction. We just have to find it."

On the drive back to the mansion, we scrutinized every photo in the
paper. It took me a minute, but I finally noticed that the reporter was
the jerk who had been stalking us. I really wasn't sure if I was pissed
about him getting in or pleased that he had given us evidence I'm sure
he would rather not have let slip.

As we turned into the drive, I saw that Elvis was back. Man, that guy
sure didn't learn quickly. "Let me break him this time," I snarled at
Gretchen. "I _really_ need to hurt someone and he's looking _real_
good."

"Let me see what he's here for first," Gretchen said, opening her door.
"He might _actually_ be here with something _useful_ and not the
excuses I expect to hear."

Leo held up his hand, trying to ward me off when I climbed out. "Keep
her back!"

Gretchen struck a pose that was both superior and arrogant, looking
down her nose at him. "Give me a reason, Leo. She really wants to kick
your ass, and I need something good to keep her on a short leash."

Leo yanked open his car door and pulled out a cardboard box. "Here!
Everything you asked for."

"Give me that," I said disbelievingly as I  snatched the box away from
him. I set it on the hood of the car and started going through the
folders inside. I stared back at Leo, shocked. "It's a full set of CSI
files, including notes, all photocopied. How the fuck did you get
these?"

"I know you're not bitching 'cause I got what you wanted," he said
with a little of his original cocky attitude. "Does it really matter? I
got the goods that you wanted. Hell, I probably got more than you
expected." With bravery I would never have expected, he turned his back
on me and faced Gretchen. "Are we square? Would you tell my wife that
we're good?"

"What?" she asked.

"My wife won't believe me," Leo said, "but she will believe
you. Can you call her on your cell phone? Please? I'd really like to
get lucky again and she hasn't let me touch her since this all blew
up."

Gretchen looked at my still stunned face and nodded. "Fine." She
pulled out her cell and called the number Leo gave her. I assume Mrs.
Elvis answered, because she told someone that everything was Kosher
now.

When she hung up, I had to snatch the box up as he virtually dived into
the car and started it up. He took off quickly, spraying us with dirt.
I guess he wasn't as brave as I'd thought.

"Is it really all the crime scene information, Hawk?" Gretchen asked,
looking into the box I was holding.

"Yeah, it is. Let's get inside and start looking over what the experts
have to say."

We looked at reports for hours. Copies of crime scene photos and
preliminary autopsy reports. I was so engrossed, I didn't object when
Gretchen put food in front of me. A Big Mac and large fries with a
monster coke. I should have been asking why the hell she had that here
in a place with a cook, but I was just happy to see something familiar.
I devoured the cop fare while trying to make sense of what I was
seeing.

The initial summary said exactly what Sweeney had told us. The CSI team
said the blood, or lack thereof, on Gretchen was inconsistent with her
being the killer.

As for the rest, too much of the report was still preliminary.
Toxicology showed that Kat was doing some recreational drugging. More
than a trace of cocaine was in her system along with all the alcohol
she could drink. I'd be surprised if she even felt the knife go in.
Cartwright was drunk, but otherwise clean.

I picked up the snapshots taken of the scene and the bodies in the
morgue. The photographer was good. It was almost as good as being
there. I reached over blindly and grabbed some more fries. "I don't
know what they put in these fries, but they are the best. Thank you for
the food." I sat up and looked at her. "Hey! I'd said I wasn't hungry."

She smiled like the cat that ate the canary. "I know. Now, what does
all that tell you?"

"Well, it's got some confusing stuff in the reports," I said, allowing
myself
to be distracted again. "Other than saying you didn't do it, the ball
is still up in the air. However, all we really need to do is _exclude_
you as the perp."

Gretchen vehemently shook her head. "No, I'm guilty until proven
innocent. I've already been convicted in the press. You know how this
works. If I want my life back I need to be able to point at the guilty
party."

I nodded and pulled a picture of Kat laying naked on the stainless
steel slab closer to my face. "Do you have a magnifier? I need to look
at this one closer." When Gretchen found one, I looked closely at the
picture of her chest. The ugly wound above her doctor-enhanced breast
looked wrong somehow. Was it the wound or the blood? Both could tell me
something about the height of the killer, if I looked at it right. This
one looked like...

Abruptly, I sat straight up as the wrongness transformed itself into a
theory.

I looked at the pattern of blood on her chest and then looked at
several other photographs of her, including ones of her hands. A nice
deep gash on the inside of her right pinkie and ring finger. Then I
looked at the same array of pictures for Cartwright.

I stood up and began sorting the pictures and reports into the folders
they went in. "I need to fax these to a friend in Houston and make a
call."

"Did you find something?" Gretchen asked eagerly.

"Maybe," I said cautiously. No need to get her hopes up if I was wrong.
If I was right, the killer has been right in front of us all the time.

It took an hour before all the information had been sent, and I was
stalking around the house waiting on a call back. I took the time to
also make copies to take to the DA. Hector Santos, one of the Medical
Examiners I worked with in Houston, was looking over the data and was
late calling me back with his off the cuff assessment. I snarled my
frustration and grabbed my coat.

"We're going to confront the bear in his den. Call Devon. We're going
to the DA's office. Call your attorney while we drive. I've got enough
here to get him off your back and the other will just have to wait."

She grabbed her phone. "Give me a hint!"

"Not till I know for sure. Come on." I almost dragged her out of the
house to meet Devon. Once we were in the Hummer and on the way I set
the box of copied evidence in my lap and closed my eyes. I was taking a
real chance here. This could all blow up in my face.

We were pulling up to the DA's office when my cell rang. I handed
Gretchen the box and opened the phone.

"Hawkins," I said, trying to hide the eagerness of my tone.

"Santos. You're still the queen of the crime scene, Hawk. Your read on
the evidence matches mine. You owe me dinner."

He disconnected as I grinned wolfishly. Time to go pin the tail on the
killer.

Gretchen ragged at me in the elevator for details, but I just smiled at
her. "I'm only telling this once. It won't be easy to snap the cuffs on
the killer, but I think it can be done. Let's hope your mouthpiece is
here."

When we got to the tenth floor office, Zieter was sitting there,
waiting. He raised an eyebrow and stood up. "I got him to see us, but
he's not very happy about it. He thinks we're here to cut a deal. Are
we?"

I smiled at him and shook my head. "Nope. We're here to get all charges
dismissed and put the finger on the real killer."

That got both his eyebrows up. "You think this is a crime TV show? You
either have a signed confession in that box, or he'll laugh us out of
his office."

"Close enough, Mister Zieter. Close enough. Let's go."

The secretary rose to stop me, and I just bounced her off my shoulder
with a casual "Sorry" and opened the door. Danforth and Sweeney were
sitting at the desk, and both startled at the door bursting open.

"I'm on time, right?" I said with a smile as Danforth reddened in fury.
His secretary tried to explain, and he waved her out. Sweeney just
smirked, a faint hint of approval in his eyes.

"This had better be good, Hawkins," the prissy DA said, sitting down
without bothering to offer us seats. "Are you ready to cut a deal and
save your _wife_ from life in prison?" The word "wife" came out very
distastefully.

"Nope. I'm here to put this case to rest." I tossed the box onto the
desk in front of him and dropped into a chair, planting my feet on the
arm of Sweeney's chair. "I have all the evidence I need to not only
_prove_ Gretchen innocent, but to also tie the killer up with a neat
little bow for you, if you can figure out how to get a grand jury to
indict. Although I've heard a DA can indict a ham sandwich, I'm sure
even you can get one here."

Danforth snarled and grabbed the box, opening it and first growing pale
and then red with renewed fury. "This is crime scene evidence and
classified police reports! How the hell did you get this? Now you'll go
to prison with her. We're done here. Detective Sweeney, take her into
custody."

"Hang on a second," Sweeney said with a quelling look at Danforth. "I
want to hear what she has to say. Why is Gretchen Werner innocent? And
who killed Senator Cartwright and Kat Werner?" His eyes showed some
satisfaction, some curiosity, and... Did he just wink at me? He already
knew Gretchen didn't do it, but the real story was going to surprise
everyone.

"I know she didn't kill anyone because that's what your own CSI team
says," I said with a shark-like smile that I turned on Danforth.

"You have exculpatory evidence in your possession that you haven't
turned over to me and you're still hounding my client?" Zieter asked
with a frown. "Danforth, you've got some serious explaining to do."

Danforth glared at us as though he would be able to incinerate us all
on the spot. "I don't give a rat's ass what that report says, it's just
an opinion."

"An expert opinion shared by at least one other Medical Examiner," I
said to Zieter. "That part is firm. No way, no how, did Gretchen kill
anyone."

Zieter glared back at Danforth, his fierce expression at odds with his
usual laid back appearance. "I'll have a motion to dismiss in the hands
of the court in less than half an hour, and I'll make you look like
more of a fool than usual for your prosecutorial misconduct unless you
move to dismiss immediately."

It looked like he was eating glass, but Danforth nodded. "I suppose I
don't have a choice." He picked up the phone and dialed an extension.
"File a motion to dismiss the indictment against Gretchen Werner."

"I'll want a copy before they run off," Zieter said, settling back in
his chair as the unwilling Danforth passed that along.

When he hung up the phone, Danforth snarled at him. "Satisfied?"

Sweeney cut in. "Not yet. If she didn't do it, I want to know what you
saw in that evidence that we missed. Who _is_ the killer?" He leaned
forward, almost eagerly.

"The man in your lab is right when he said that Cartwright killed Kat
Werner," I said smugly, "but he missed some subtle evidence that points
right at Cartwright's killer."

I paused for effect and Gretchen smacked me on the back of my head.
"Don't do this to me, Hawk. Who killed Cartwright?" she asked,
exasperated.

I turned and looked at Gretchen and smiled. "Kat did."

Pandemonium erupted as everyone started yelling all at once, and it
took me a minute to get everyone to stop screaming that I was an idiot
so that I could explain. I pulled the picture of Kat's chest out of the
box. "The evidence is right here." I set it down in front of Sweeney.
"Look at that knife wound. Cartwright is right handed. See how the
knife went in? The edge is down and toward the center of Kat's
breastbone, following the curve of her ribs. If the taller Cartwright
pulled that knife out, why is the wound cutting down and twice as wide
as the blade? The non-cutting edge would be taking the force if
Cartwright pulled that knife out. It was pulled out from the left side,
or in this case, from Kat's right hand. She reached up and yanked the
knife that killed her right out of her own chest and stabbed
Cartwright. She was so hopped up on coke that she probably didn't know
she was dead till she hit the floor."

Sweeney picked it up and waved Zieter and Gretchen back so he could see
it. Danforth shook his head. "That is the biggest bullshit story I've
ever heard. You can't possibly expect anyone to believe that?"

I smiled sweetly at him as the door opened and the secretary brought in
a paper and gave it to Zieter. "Since Gretchen has been ruled out as
the killer, I don't really care what you think. I'm telling Gretchen
what happened, and I'm just being nice in sharing that with the
police." I turned back to Sweeney. "Look at the blood splatter on her
upper chest. She was showing some nice cleavage that night and the rest
of the evidence is on those fake tits. The size of the drops is
consistent with splatter from a distance, not with blood from her own
wound."

"Sure," Sweeney agreed. "She was laying on the floor when Cartwright
bought it. The blood fell on her from above."

"If she was lying on the floor, then why," I asked, my expression
victorious, "do the blood drops impact her breast and flow against
gravity toward the nipples? If she were prone, the blood should flow
towards her chin. But it doesn't, which can mean only one thing.  She
was standing when that blood hit her. She was stabbing Cartwright back
even as she was dying. The evidence tells the story, if you want to
read it. Those two sorry excuses for human beings killed each other."

"That is total crap!" Danforth snapped, standing up. "No one is going
to believe that."

"Ask Sweeny what he has seen people hopped up on coke do. I've seen
someone shot in the heart take the gun away from his killer and empty
it into his murderer before he himself fell down dead. It's more than
possible. I can see it in my mind's eye as clearly as if I were sitting
there when it happened. Cartwright is humiliated again, this time in
public, by Kat. He slips into the kitchen and hides a knife in his
coat. He asks her to talk upstairs, and she agrees. They argue, he
tells her what a bitch she is, pulls the knife and plunges it into her
chest. Then, as he stares in smug anticipation, she gets pissed and
pulls it out and plunges it right back into the drunk bastard's chest."

Danforth was obviously not buying it, but Sweeney looked thoughtful. It
took almost an hour and a number of phone calls, but we walked out of
that office with everything I wanted going in. Total victory.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: <story-submit@asstr.org>|
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-admin@asstr.org> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr.org> |
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+