Investigation - the scene

Another day, another homicide, another investigation. I might have made it sound boring or mundane, so don’t get me wrong, I love my job and the challenge that comes with unravelling the truth. Unfortunately my partner was sick and because of staff shortages I would need to solve this case on my own. It did not bother me too much, I had full confidence in my own abilities.

The place where the body had been found added spice to the investigation. The building hosted a restaurant, a hotel and a luxurious apartment; it all belonged to Michael Bradford. More than once Mr Bradford had been suspected of illegal activities like gambling, money laundering, **** trafficking and pimping, but neither of the cases had enough evidence to put him behind bars. Those were all small fries compared to homicide, and while Mr Bradford was not a suspect yet, it would be a significant achievement to prove his guilt. But I was getting ahead of myself; I had to be observant and methodical, these were the methods to a successful investigation, not wishful thinking.

By the time I arrived at the place the cops had already secured the crime scene.

“What have you got, Johnson?” were my first words to the officer at the spot.

That might sound impolite, but there was a reason for such behaviour. Long time ago, even before I became a policewoman, people of the precinct had decided to skip the ‘Good morning’ part when there was a dead body present.

“White, middle-aged man. Seems to have been shot in the chest. Employees of the restaurant found the body,” officer Johnson told me what else he had learnt so far.

Jerry, because that was his first name, was still young, a few years younger than me, but a really good cop. The only thing unprofessional about his behaviour was his gaze. As he talked he eyed my body from head to toe; I ignored that, because it was our little game. To be specific my outfit was far from being professional either, as usual.

I was wearing a white blouse which might have been considered classy, if not for the cleavage which offered a generous glimpse of my large breasts. My brown leather skirt was too short to be called professional either, it reached almost to the middle of my thighs, so I guess it could be called decent. It paired really well with the knee-high boots on ten centimetre tall block heels and light jacket, both also made of brown leather. My legs were covered in sheer tan pantyhose. Some might say that this outfit was more suitable for a night out, but that was my style for work. I looked hot and I knew it, but that would not stop me from conducting an investigation, quite the opposite.

I listened attentively to Johnson as he led me towards the body.

“You said he was shot,” I remarked when we got there.

“Just my initial observation. The coroner is on his way.”

“There’s no blood. If he was shot it didn’t happen here.”

“Someone moved the body?”

“Might be. Show me the witnesses.”

The employees were waiting to be interrogated in the kitchen; as Johnson led me there we were joined by HIM. I have heard of Michael Bradford, but I had never seen any of his photos, yet when he approached us I was certain we were dealing with the owner of the entire establishment. He was tall, athletic and ridiculously handsome; he could look me in the eye when I was in high heels which was not common. Mr Bradford was immaculately dressed, but more importantly he oozed masculinity and confidence. If not for the fact that I was a detective and had an equally strong character I might have fallen for his charm right there and then.