A Time To Kill Part 2 =-bootz-=

I had studied medicine at a local university for a summer or two a few years back, and I learned about how many things were based off of Latin. I had taken Latin when I was in school, and we had this batty old teacher Mrs. Featherstone who used to preach on and on about the beauty of language. She told us one day that in whatever direction the sun rose on Caesars birthday, was the direction that East was. I'm not sure if it's true or not, but for some reason this rang a bell today in my mind as I traveled off the brick laden streets of the coastal villa and onto the interstate.

"Today being Caesars birthday, then east is to the sea," I said to myself.

The car I was in was old, but it was effective. A good paint job, none of those nifty enhancements, but it got me to where I had to go when I was at work - and I wasn't supposed to be there. I was supposed to be sitting at home enjoying some literature, sipping coffee, and by noon I would be strolling down the shore with Laurence.

Plans change, it was one in the afternoon and I had just made it the ten minute drive to Despot Farm. The dirt road winded up between some fine fruit trees and past a little wood sign that had their name written on it. The trees led to a paved clearance that would be their parking lot. Instead it was filled with police cars.

I parked next to an all too familiar ambulance. As I exited the car I realized that I hadn't missed the job at all, working around the dead bodies and the corpses and having to tell families that the death was murder and that we wouldn't find the killer.

An officer walked over to me, a young man with hard features and a bit of stubble. He had probably been awoken as early as I had with the call.

"Are you Mrs. Jefferson," he asked.

I smiled and nodded. He showed me the way, past an apple orchard and some blue berry bushes and walking in between the pumpkin patches filled with fist sized pumpkins. He led me up the hill which overlooked some strawberry fields in the distance and down behind them all to a shed with bags upon bags of mulch piled up next to it. Beyond the shed was what I looked for.

The mulcher machine had sprayed red down the walk and over some bags of mulch. The weather was humid and it hadn't dried instead pooling in certain areas where the ground sunk. I took note that no leaves had fallen in the back yard.

Another officer turned to face me.

"What does it look like to you officer," I asked.

He gave me the once over.

"You're not a reporter are you," he asked.

I laughed.

"Carla Jefferson, and if you don't mind my asking I'd like to know what evidence you gathered from the crime scene while I was analyzing the body," I said.

He smirked.

"You're Carla Jefferson, the forensic pathologist who solved the-," he said.

"Yes I solved the West Tree hanging murders if that's what you must know," I replied.

“How did you manage to do it,” he asked.

“I don’t want to talk about that right now, what happened here,” I replied.

“Well, the girl was found - she fell face first into the machine, gnawed her up pretty good it did,” he answered.

“Was there any fault in the machine - maybe a piece of wood flew out at her,” I asked.

“Checked it, worked perfectly fine. No blade was missing, not even a loose screw,” he said.

“Well, I want you to rule out accident,” I answered.

“Why,” he asked.

“Look at the ground,” I replied.

“It’s covered in blood,” he said.

“No around the machine,” I pointed out.

He looked and saw the metal grating I was indicating.

“They use these in printing presses, my old man’s machine didn’t have one. He fell off and when the grating loses weight the machine should stop - but it didn’t. Sucked him right in,” she said.

“I don’t have time to listen to your stories, should I disperse the men or not,” the officer demanded.

“Momentarily, listen, all of these kinds of machines when they are built into one place have a system similar to this. To get that far into the machine, to the blades, you’d need to lean in a good ways before you hit the part that would kill you,” I continued.

“Therefore, someone or something had to be standing on it when she was pushed in. Something with a body weight of over one hundred pounds to be precise, and to be honest with you I don’t see any mulch,” I concluded.

He looked at me.

“Are you saying someone threw her in,” he asked.

“Someone who knew enough about this machine must have, otherwise a lot went wrong on a ‘perfectly fine’ machine,” I added.

He stared at me a little angered by my outwitting him.

“What kind of sick person would do that,” he asked.

“Not sick, a psychological genius who studied their victim very well. All we have to do is find that person,” I said.

“How are we going to do that,” he asked.

*****

It felt awkward knocking on the guest house door, the old housekeeper let us in and we greeted her kindly. Her eyes were swollen from crying, but she did her best to smile and offer the officer and I anything we would desire. She led us to a well lit room with a TV displaying a cheesy soap opera. I sat across from her with the officer next to me and interrogated her.

“Hello, I’m Detective Jefferson and this is my fellow officer. We would like to ask you a few questions regarding the accident here,” I said.

She smiled.

“Well, my name is Helen but the family they all call me ‘Aunt H’. I don’t see why you’re asking me and not the family,” she said.

I smiled.

“The family is undergoing a lot of stress, I understand it must be hard for you but I heard that you and the deceased had a very strong relationship,” I added.

“Oh, we had an amazing friendship. I raised her from when she was a little girl until… well until the events… but she had a fine spirit and was very intelligent,” she replied.

I grinned as the woman recounted memories of the deceased when she was a child, and her first steps, running on the beach and picking pumpkins. More than enough times she stopped to wipe a tear away or gather herself and we laughed at the same time or got sad. When she stopped I felt like I had learned more than I should have known - but I didn’t have the information that I desired.

“Helen, had you and the deceased been in close contact since she started college,” I asked.

“Yes, she would come back on holidays when she lived in the dorms and nightly she would stop by to play a game of cards before she would go do her night work - mowing, watering, whatever her parents had her do,” she answered.

“Did she mention any enemies,” I asked.

“Enemies? No! No, she was a very well liked girl had a lot of friends. A few boyfriends too, they would stop by occasionally, her parents didn’t care for the boys - they were too rambunctious you know. Her parents wanted her to marry a rich elitist like they were, someone with their nose in the air - high brow,” she answered.

“Did she have any fights with her friends,” I asked.

“No, what are you getting at,” Helen asked.

“Helen, I don’t want to alarm you but I don’t believe that her death was an accident.”

“What? You mean… murder?”

“Helen, there is no way for her to die in such a horrific manner. Someone had to have been there,” I replied.

“You don’t think it would be… me,” she said frightened.

“No Helen, I just think that since you raised the girl you would know if there were any rivalries.”

Helen sat still for a moment, then laughed looking past us. I turned to see an old antique desk sitting in the corner of the room.

“That girl used to be there always after school, I would hear her late at night there too when I was upstairs.”

I smiled.

“Alright, lady we’re going no where fast,” the officer chimed in.

Helen looked at him glaring slightly.

“We want to know if she had enemies not what she liked and frankly you have been of no help. I’m not getting paid to listen to you reminisce so I believe the detective and I are through,” he said getting to his feet.

He stormed out of the room while I said goodbye and followed. I met him down the walk towards the parking lot.

“Are you insane,” I yelled.

The sun was setting behind him as he turned around. The west, I noted.

“Sitting there with that crazy old woman didn’t get us anywhere,” he yelled.

“I’m sorry but what was I supposed to do burden the family further,” I yelled.

He glared.

“Just because you have problems doesn’t mean you should waste my life. Waste your own you has been,” he said walking to the patrol car.

And in a cloud of dust he left me alone in the parking lot with my memories. I clutched a fist tight and remembered…

(to be continued)

lol if all the exposition is boring you it's just to show you how observant the lead is. in the next chapter you're going to learn about a dark secret and about the killers next victim as well as an interesting subplot... o-O i'll post it tomorrow! hope you like this part! =-bootz-=

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