sirmyk
New Member
laboi_22 said:Inside the Evangeline Parish Sheriff’s office the phones rang off the hook. The dispatchers sat professionally at their desks speaking the constant lingo of law enforcement to the patrol guys in the field. The radios cracked and chirped with static on and off with each remark spoken over the handsets. The call came in. Mary, the dispatch supervisor, answered the young new deputy’s call.
“NP 107 to central”
“Go head 107”
“Yeah I’m 10-97 at 112 Norward in the Oaks. 10-40 ma’am I have a 187.”
“10-4 Sir right away.”
Detective Don Goldman made his way past dispatch, and headed straight for his office. Rita Smith, his desk clerk, sat with a baffled look across her face, as Detective Goldman passed by. He was middle aged, and as with many men in law enforcement of that age, he carried around about one hundred pounds of excess weight. His stomach was big and round, but he carried himself well. He wore a plain, white, starched, long sleeved shirt with pressed pleated kaki Dockers. He also wore a gun belt around his size 41 waist. He always wore his black blazer to finish up his outfit. His shoes were always the same brown Nordstrom loafers, and had been for many years. He had aged well enough, but his face had been through many days in the sun patrolling the city. Crow’s feet could be easily spotted around his small demeaning brown eyes with rugged lashes. His hair, dark black, with premature grays was always combed with a part to the right side of his head.
“Hello Rita. How goes it this morning?” He said while passing Rita’s desk.
“Detective you’ve got to take these calls. There has been a homicide of a young Conner boy in the Oaks.”
He stood silently for a moment contemplating what Rita had just said. After all these years in law enforcement, and as a patrol man himself, he knew that sometimes in the heat of the moment, calls that come in from the field are not always what they are cracked up to be at first.
“Are you sure Rita?” He asked gently. Rita always exaggerated things to the fullest extent. Not much went on in the way of heavy crime in Ville Platte, and any chance for juicy gossip, he knew would set Rita and the rest of the office off in a mad frenzy.
“I’m sure Detective. In fact I have the Sheriff himself on the line for you. Would you like me to transfer it to your office sir?”
“Yeah Rita do that please, oh and if you could be so kind…”
“I know bring you some coffee.” Rita interrupted.
“Thanks Rita.”
He closed the door to his office quietly. His large oak desk sat in the bare room alone. The desk faced the door when walking in. Several file cabinets sat behind the desk along with a tall leather chair. The floor had old torn tile in a diamond pattern. The office reeked of stale smoke. The desktop was hard to see. Papers and folders stacked in messy piles covered it. Several family photos sat on the corner of his desk. His wedding photos and pictures of his children from the last Christmas were covered with a yellow film of tobacco. Rita was right something was really going on here, he thought as the phone rang from behind his desk.
“Yes sir”
“Don we have a really bad situation on our hands here.”
“What’s going on sir?”
“This morning Peggy Conner’s son Brandon was found dead in his bedroom by his fiancé Dr. Jim Fisher’s daughter Carrie. She made a call to 911 and Mary dispatched a deputy to the scene.”
“Which deputy?”
“Deputy Timothy Brown.”
“Oh shit Wayne he’s a rookie.”
“I know, but thankfully when Mary got the call after dispatching Deputy Brown she called me. She said she tried your phone, but you didn’t answer.”
“I must have been in the shower.”
“Anyway, Mary put me through to the deputy at the scene and I led him through the process. He protected the scene. I advised him not to allow anyone else to come in. The scene was already somewhat contaminated by the girl who found him.”
“What’s it looking like Wayne?”
“Horrible. I haven’t seen anything in all my years this atrocious. I need you here to work the scene with me ASAP.”
“I’ll be on my way. Just give me the address.”
“112 Norward in the Oaks.”
“I know where that is I’ll be by shortly.”
“Alright. And Don….”
“Yeah.”
“Prepare yourself.” Detective Don Goldman hung up the phone and hurriedly punched the intercom to call Rita.
“Yes Sir this is Rita. What can I do for you Detective?”
“I need my unit prepared right away Rita and hurry.”
“I’m on it sir.”
“Oh and Rita call the Lieutenant on duty for patrol and tell him to meet me in the front.”
“Yes sir.”
Outside yet another young, fully decked out, in his uniform, deputy had rounded up the detective’s unit and drove it around the front of the building in the horseshoe driveway. At the same time Goldman’s unit arrived the Lieutenant’s unit pulled up behind. Goldman saluted the young deputy as if he were in the United States Army. The young deputy repeated the action, and got out of Goldman’s unit. The Lieutenant also stepped out of his unit and approached Goldman. Lieutenant Brad Young had been with the Sheriff’s office for over ten years. His experience in patrol was remarkable. However his experience with homicide investigation was somewhat limited. He was young and good looking, freshly shaved face, soft boyish features, and rather large green eyes. His hair was fixed with the current times spiked up in the front, and gelled with a distinct messy look throughout. His uniform as always was starched and tight. Not meaning tight as in clung to his body, but sharp and clean.
“Hello detective how are you?”
“Not that well Lieutenant. No doubt you heard about the homicide over in the Oaks right?”
“Yes sir. My deputy filled me in with the details.”
“Your crew has preformed remarkably as well as your dispatch supervisor.”
“Thank you sir.”
“Now down to the reason I called you over. I need your help at the scene. I need your opinion and your wisdom.”
“Thank you sir, but you’re the detective. I don’t have any experience with homicide investigations. Why would you need me?”
“I like the way you handle your men and yourself for that matter. Now you have orders. Follow me.”
“Yes Sir.”
Detective Goldman climbed into his unit. His back tires peeled out in the gravel. The Lieutenant followed close behind. Goldman took several deep breaths then lit up a cigarette. I can do this, he repeated to himself, as he drove over to the Oaks.
Here's my critique for part three: change all of the above. Same goes for parts one and two.
