CH 4: The Morgue

[Hey guys, DP1989 here.

Here is the first bit of CH. 4. I wanted to get it out last week but got delayed in doing so. One of those things was the fact I didn't realize the customization options weren't working. So I've gone through and formatted that. Hat tip to Chyoa's FAQ's thread and take note folks, it pays to actually read those things. Kinda feel like a dumbass for not realizing that sooner. May need to change my name to CrappyRyanReynoldsGreenLantern1989 after that fiasco lol

I didn't want to release a partial chapter again but I also want to keep my word and try and update weekly. I still have big things planned for this chapter, most of it is written already, I just need to further format it and do some final edits. So please bear with me.

Again, thank you for the kind words, messages and comments, it is truly appreciated. I promise to have the rest of Ch. 4 out Sunday night.

Until then Chyoa-lites, as the great Mr. Feeny used to say, "Class Dismissed"]

*****

You stand there, stunned beyond belief.

Laying in front of you, the broken, battered and lifeless body of your friend and mentor, Mr. Edwards. You barely recognize him as you continue to try and process everything. A single tear rolls down your cheek.

Your hand instinctively reaches for Daisy but she is not with you. You had wished to have her by your side but you felt it was best if you were here alone, despite her protests.

Behind you, an NYPD detective and coroner drone on. You barely register their words, your mind focused solely on what's in front of you.

"Mr. Carpenter? Sir, did you hear me?" The detective asks.

"I'm sorry." You say, your voice hoarse. "Um, what did you ask?"

"I asked." The detective replies with slight annoyance, though he tries to hide it. "When was the last time you had heard from Mr. Edwards?"

You struggle to think back as your mind is still foggy, not fully accepting reality.

"Probably three or four months." You finally answer.

"Did you know he was in New York?"

"I didn't even know he was in the country." You answer, recalling your last conversation with Mr. Edwards. "Last time we spoke he mentioned he was in Bali."

"What for?" The detective asks, probing you for more information.

"Women and booze I'd assume." You answer.

The detective jots down your answers in his notepad. He ponders a moment while looking over his notes.

"When was he found?" You ask, **** up slightly.

"About a week ago." The detective answers, still jotting down notes. "He had passed at least three days prior."

"How?" You ask as you feel your heart tighten in your chest at the answers. "How did he die?"

"He was badly beaten." The coroner chimes in. "I'm still awaiting on some test results but I am quite certain his heart had given out due to stress from an extended period of beatings and possible ****."

"So he was murdered?" You ask coldly knowing the answer.

"Yes." The coroner replies dryly as he puts down his clipboard.

"Do you know of any enemies Mr. Edwards may have had?" The detective butts in with another question.

"Detective...?"

"Andrews."

"Detective Andrews." You continue. "Mr. Edwards was a very successful entrepreneur, businessman and womanizer. As good as I believe his intentions were in life, he wasn't without flaws or sin. I'm sure he made enemies throughout his career and in his personal life. Compiling such a list would be damn near impossible if I'm being honest. When he saw something he liked or that piqued his interest, he would take it, no matter the cost, money or otherwise. Did he piss people off? Absolutely. Did he do things that led to people hating him? He wouldn't have been successful if he hadn't done so at some point."

"What about you?" Detective Andrews asks, interrupting your unintentional rant.

"Excuse me?"

"Were you one of those people who he pissed off or ran over?" He expands on his thought.

You take a deep breath, trying to control your anger.

"Detective Andrews, I'm only going to say this once. I loved Mr. Edwards. Although I disagreed with how he lived his life, he was the only real father figure I had. He took me in, taught me everything I know and put me in a position to not only be successful in life but to also make a difference if I so choose. To answer your rather insulting insinuation, no, he did not piss me off to the point of ****. Did we have disagreements from time to time? Yes we did. Did I **** the man who gave me everything I ever wanted? I did not. Now, if it's all the same to you, I have arrangements to make to bury my friend. If you need anything else, you can expect my full cooperation. Thank you."

You walk by him and the coroner, surprised he didn't try to stop you.