Dead
By
Gennia and Alice
Chapter 6
I sat down at the table with my coffee and the murder file. The officers already at the table glanced at me, then went back to what they were doing before. I sighed. This case was giving me a huge migrane. I pushed the folder away from me, not wanting to think about that at the moment.
"Hey, Buck. You look glum," Joe said sitting down.
"No, really?" I replied sarcastically. Killed two days before his 21st birthday…who would do something so cruel and so brutally. Not even your usual slice n’ dice. ‘Backstreet Boy Beaten to Death’—was that the headline? I shook my head, running a hand through my hair. Maybe I shouldn’t have taken this case, this job—any of this.
"Is this the file? He was in some boyband or something?" Joe went on, flipping through the folder. He grimaced a few times when he reached the pictures. Those poor girls who found him. And they were fans too.
"Backstreet Boys. Can you believe this? Killed 2 days before his birthday!" Joe closed the file, pushing it toward me. He shook his head, leaning back in the chair. I opened the file, going through the documents. I quickly skimmed the transcripts of the interviews with the victim’s bandmates. There had to be something in here! I just wasn’t looking at it the right way. Maybe it wasn’t the bandmates at all. They seemed so close, and they were all so shocked and sad when they heard. No—I couldn’t rule them out. Plenty of cases had ended with the murderer being someone close. It could still be any of the four. Littrell, Mclean, Dorough, or Richardson—phone calls had been made, they had spent time with someone—each and every one of them seemed to have someone, something to confirm their stories…or was I just over looking something? I started going through them again.
Mclean was very upset, especially toward the end of the interrogation. This part—some hesitation, maybe this was the glitch… Littrell was in denial, still soaking in the information—seems like he was in too much shock to really tell… Richardson was shocked, but appeared calm—maybe too calm. Then again, maybe he’s just better at dealing with these things. He seemed to be the support of the entire group. He had experience with death—he had lost his father, but this is murder. The rules are never the same. Right here—his wife confirmed his story. Dorough—seemed all right during the interrogation. What’s this—story seems to be a bit shaky—no, the phone call we made confirmed his whereabouts… Damn it! There had to be something in here! Some little unnoticeable falter…
"Buck!" I looked up, startled out of my trance. My partner, Jake, looked excited.
"Did you take a sample of that white shit? Jake! How many times do I have to tell you to stay away from that?!" I teased. That was surprising. Ever since the Carter case, I hadn’t been able to talk about anything lightly.
"Sure, whatever you say. The case in that folder in your hand is as good as solved," Jake said, the smile on his face growing wider. I stared at him in disbelief. He had found something?
"What? Ok, no games. Spit it out," I ordered. There was no time for anymore chattering.
"Carter had a green Durango right? Friday, night of the murder, green Durango pulled up to Richardson’s house." Jake handed me a picture taken from one of those new surveillance cameras that were set up for neighborhood watch or something. There it was, green Durango, license plate number visible and all… Except there was one glitch in this whole scenario…
"No. Sorry to burst your bubble, Jake, but you know Richardson couldn’t have done it. His wife confirmed his story. They were together that night." I handed the picture back to him, letting out another sigh.
"That’s where I’ve got you Buck. I thought that too, but the phone conversation with his wife was fishy. So, I paid her a visit. She gave me the same story over and over but suddenly broke down in the end. She was staying at a hotel that night. Richardson had kicked her out of the house. She also said something about him being drunk." I sat there staring at Jake for the longest time. It was almost over. We knew who it was. It fit perfectly—green Durango at the house, wife was kicked out, Richardson was drunk—it all made perfect sense.
"You did it. You’re a genius," I said, still in shock. These cases rarely were solved so quickly. I still couldn’t believe it.
"Buck! Are you coming or not? It’s not over until we nail the guy!" Joe said, grabbing his jacket.
"Yea. Coming." I stuffed the papers back into the folder. Mr. Carter, we found your killer.
"I’ll go get back-up."