Detective...

[Memnoch]

I lit the butt of my cigarette for what must have been the third time. There wasn't any tobacco left, just the filter...but that was okay. It was the smoke that calmed my mind more than anything. Staring hard at the contents of the file before me, I couldn't help but wonder where men like this came off. She was coming on to me. She was wearing a tight dress. I hoped that would be the case once we found this slob and threw him in prison.

I was irritated. I had a short list of suspects, and that list had just gotten shorter. Our prime suspect was found dead, last night. Hanged himself. Or as the victim attested to the police...hung. I snorted, more because it was funny to see how warped the city could make a man than me having a tiny prick. Anyway. The beat cops had pronounced it suicide. Sure it was. One could commit suicide a lot of ways, in this city. One can choose to rape the daughter of a local business owner. That's suicide, if you ask me.

Either way, I wasn't buying it. The suicide or the connection. This guy was her best friend, and mutual acquaintences had reported a more-than-friends attitude coming from the guy, but none really could understand why he would go and rape her. Nor could they understand the connection, seeing as he was out drinking with a fake I.D. with them at the time the girl was raped. If he didn't rape her, then why would he commit suicide? I suppose there wasn't a lot for him to leave behind, but that's besides the point. He wasn't any less adjusted than your average pot-smoking, booze swilling collegiate, or so investigators were told.

One develops a certain level of desensitization over the years. I looked between the pictures of the raped girl - whom, I noted, the photographer had gotten several close-ups of - and the pictures of her friend hanging from a belt in his dorm. Surely there was some constant, there. Some bit of evidence or environment that was present in both scenes.





....to be continued, maybe.