Brea-In

This story is part of an ongoing series.

The chronological order of my stories is listed in WifeWatchman's biography.

Feedback and

constructive

criticism is very much appreciated, and I encourage feedback for ideas.

This story contains graphic scenes, language and actions that might be extremely offensive to some people. These scenes, words and actions are used only for the literary purposes of this story. The author does not condone murder, racism, racial language, violence, rape or violence against women, and any depictions of any of these in this story should not be construed as acceptance of the above.

***

Part 8 - The Crime(?) Scene

10:50pm, Saturday, June 5th. Lieutenant Commander Teresa Croyle and I were driving in my Police SUV with blue lightbar blazing, headed for the address on Cone Street of the double shooting after she called me and notified me of the incident. I left The Cabin and picked her up at the end of the driveway, to where she'd walked from her home next door. We were wearing our uniforms, with light blue shirts with our ranks on soft shoulderboards on the epaulettes, and standard armor vests over that, which was required at crime scenes involving shootings.

"You called me. Who called you?" I asked as we drove down the road past the football stadium and into Town.

"Roy McGhillie." Teresa said, naming the Senior Sergeant and

de facto

1st Precinct Lieutenant. "He said Precinct Captain Hewitt is out of Town visiting family, so he did the right thing and notified me. He also said there are some problems at the scene, but didn't say what they were. So no one called you?"

"Not yet." I said. "And that forebodes a bad night." For someone, I did not need to add.

As we drove down Cone Street, which was near Pine Street and the Kensington subdivision where several of my past cases had occurred, I noticed two Police cruisers had set up a perimeter about three houses down from the one where a lot of blue lightbars and one red and white lightbar were flashing. They had prevented a KXTC van from going any further, but I saw that Bettina Wurtzburg, her cameraman Scott Turnbull, and his camera had gone well within the perimeter. I stopped the vehicle and got out.

"Place these two under arrest!" I shouted to the Officers.

"We have a right to be here!" Bettina shouted.

I pulled out my Police iPhone and brought up an image. "No you don't." I replied. "This is the agreement KXTC signed, that you would stay at least 100 feet away from crime scenes, and respect Police barricades and restricted areas. Those Police vehicles are at 100 feet away, and you are within the circle. Ergo, you are in violation of the agreement as well as the law. Gentlemen, take these two

criminals

into custody!" (

Author's note: 'Schoolhouse Rock', Ch. 07.

)

"All right, we'll pull back." Bettina said. She and her cameraman turned.

"Not good enough!" I thundered. "You've already committed the crime! Officers, arrest these two, and if you damage that camera in the process, tough shit for them."

"Oh, come on!" Bettina yelled as Officers advanced on them. "We're doing our jobs! And I said we'd pull back."

"And I said it's too late for that, you worthless

journalist.

" I fired back.

"Hold on, hold on!" I heard a voice behind me say. It was Sheriff Griswold. "Bettina, you've got about five seconds before I lose control of the Iron Crowbar. I suggest you use those five seconds to get back."

When Bettina did not move, Teresa yelled "What are you waiting for?! You want to be arrested? MOVE!" She escorted, more like pushed, Bettina behind the line of Police cruisers, then said to Bettina: "Come on, Bettina, you know better than this. You also know that Commander Troy is just looking for an excuse to fuck you up... even to kill you! Literally, he wants to

kill

you."

Bettina said "We're doing our jobs, here. It's not my fault that bastard hates us---"

"

I don't care

whose fault it is!" Teresa spat angrily. "The bottom line, Bettina, is that Don Troy has a

Government Gun

and the authority to use it. And he really,

really

is looking for the excuse to kill you and any other reporter that he can! Now get your head out of your fourth point of contact, and start doing your job within the law!" She stalked away before Bettina could say any more...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It did not get better. The Sheriff accompanied me to the check-in point, where Patrolman Buchanan was manning the clipboard. I gave my badge number (the Sheriff had already given his) and we went onto the front lawn towards the house.

It was a one-story ranch-style home, which I suspected had three bedrooms; two facing the front of the house, and the master bedroom facing the backyard. It was built in a time when homes actually had yards, and there was relatively generous spacing between the houses.

"Not going to ask me why I'm here?" the Sheriff asked me.

"Sir, I'd have to be a really, really dull Detective to not know that." I replied cryptically. The Sheriff grunted acknowledgement.

"Not much gets past you." said Griswold. "Anyhoo, we've got a lot more to do tonight to worry about arresting Bettina---"

"Excuse me, sir." I said, literally interrupting the Sheriff. "Hey! What is

she

doing here?" I had looked up and seen District Attorney Miriam Walters on the steps leading to the front door. But that was not the problem... the problem was that

ADA Savannah Fineman was with her... inside the crime scene exclusion zone!

Captain Claire Michaels came up. "I told Patrolman Buchanan to let them in, sir."

I glared at Claire for a second, then turned to the Sheriff and said "Sir, did you authorize Fineman to come into the crime scene area?"

"No I did not, Crowbar." the Sheriff said with alacrity.

"Excuse me, sir." I said. "Captain, come with me." We went up to two Officers near the door and said "Guys, escort ADA Fineman off this property. If she resists, arrest her."

"Now just a goddamned minute!" yelled D.A. Walters as Teresa came up, ready to personally carry out my instructions and take Fineman down hard.

"No,

you

wait a goddamned minute!" growled Sheriff Griswold loudly, having come up behind me. "You know damn well Commander Troy has forbidden Fineman access to crime scenes. Commander Croyle, get Fineman out of here before Commander Troy comes over here and arrests Fineman with excessive force. Fineman, you better go with her before something

wet

happens to you."

"I've been assigned this case, I have every right to be here!" Savannah Fineman yelled angrily. She found herself surrounded by Police Officers.

"Goddammit, Sheriff!" yelled Miriam Walters. "Are we going to go through this yet again?"

"Yes we are!" I thundered. "And we will go through it again, and again, and again... until you get it through your thick head that Fineman is

not welcome

at my crime scenes! At all! Ever!"

"You heard him, Walters." said the Sheriff, whose mustached were twitching with anger.

"Your Captain of Detectives allowed her in." said Miriam, throwing Claire Michaels under the bus.

"A mistake I'll never make again." Claire said in retaliatory response. "I'll get her out of here, sir." She advanced upon Savannah, who looked like she was going to resist.

"Better be sure, Fineman." Teresa said, also noticing Savannah's posture. "Captain Michaels is the only person who has ever defeated the Iron Crowbar in the Police Boxing Matches. And I am more than eager to help her physically fuck you up if you don't get moving."

"Go ahead, Savannah." Miriam said. "You'll still be prosecuting the case."

"If there's one to prosecute." said MCD Lieutenant Jerome Davis as he came out of the house. "Commander, I'll show you what's going on inside, if you're ready."

"Give me one second." I said. "Teresa, come with me." As we walked back towards Patrolman Buchanan, I said "Teresa, call Chief Moynahan and tell him what's going on."

"Wilco, sir." Teresa said, fishing out her Police iPhone as I walked up to Patrolman Buchanan at the perimeter.

I said: "Okay, Buchanan, you're not in trouble. But I do need to make one thing clear. Savannah Fineman is never, ever, to be allowed onto a crime scene, and if she tries to come in, she is to be arrested. By whatever force is needed."

"Yes sir." said Buchanan. "I'm sorry, sir---"

"I know, I know." I said. "Captain Michaels is a Captain, after all. But let me ask you this... am I in your chain-of-command?"

"

Everyone

is in

your

chain-of-command, sir." said Buchanan as Claire came up after forcing Savannah outside the 100-foot perimeter. I noticed Savannah had gone over to the KXTC van and was talking to Bettina. I also noticed that KFXU and KSB news vans had arrived.

"True." I said. "Is Commander Croyle in your chain-of-command?" When Buchanan hesitated, I said "Your answer should be 'yes', she is. But is Captain Michaels in your direct chain-of-command?" Buchanan again hesitated, and I said "No, she's not. Yes, she's a Captain, and you should respect her. But when it comes to that piece of dog vomit Fineman, she does not override me nor Commander Croyle. And I will be shocked...

shocked!

... if the Chief or Sheriff override me, and they are the only people on earth who can. Are we clear on this?"

"Yes sir." said Buchanan.

"Okay, keep up the good work." I said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Captain, walk with me as we go investigate this scene."

Claire came with me, with Teresa following us at a slight distance, taking in her own observations. Miriam Walters and the Sheriff were following behind her. I said to Claire: "I agree with you that you will not be letting Fineman back onto a crime scene. Why did you let her in in the first place?"

"I... D.A. Walters was there, and haranguing Buchanan when he tried to stop her." Claire said. "And meaning no disrespect, sir, is it really that bad to let her see the crime she's going to be assigned to by the D.A.?"

"It

is

that bad." I said, making sure to be loud enough for Walters to hear. "Fineman has damaged two of our previous cases, and I am just not going to have your guys busting their tails off only to have her destroy our cases. I'm not working with Fineman at all, and you should consider the damage she may cause if you do."

"Yes sir." said Claire.

As we went up the walkway, I looked over to my right, and saw a dark blue Ford SUV in the driveway in front of the garage, whose door was closed. "Is that the homeowner's vehicle?"

"No sir." said Jerome Davis, who was on the front porch waiting for us. "We ran the plates, and it belongs to a man named Tom Maple. He's one of the deceased persons in the house."

"Okay, I'm doing this wrong." I said. "Let's pause here and get the basics. Jerome, who lives here, and what happened?"

Jerome Davis began his narrative: "Sir, this is the home of Stanley and Marla Locklear. He's an architect with the firm Maple & Hogue, which is a business solutions and advertising firm. Tom Maple and Chuck Hogue are his business partners, and they're the ones that were shot dead tonight."

Jerome: "Marla Locklear is 'between jobs' at the moment; she last worked at the County Library, but quit a month or so ago. Intel Branch is starting their workups of everyone involved, and that's what we have on them so far."

I said "Yeah, it's early. Gotta give them a chance to do their jobs. But we were told it's a home invasion?" Teresa nodded vigorously in agreement.

"Yes sir." said Jerome. "And it's a strange story that's developing... one of those that might be right up your alley, sir."

Claire said "Just tell the Commander the facts, and leave the evaluations to him." Jerome looked nonplussed, even a bit angry at that comment. I turned and 'looked' at Claire, but my 'look' did not match Teresa's.

"I can't wait to hear the story." I said to Jerome. "Let's all go inside..."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

We finally made it inside. And things did not get any better.

The front door led to the foyer. To the right was the formal living room. Going forward led to the hall that went left to the bedrooms, and going straight led to the den that was the back room. A fireplace was on the back left wall, and next to it, almost to the wall on the right, was a sliding glass door to the back patio, which was behind a closed curtain/drape. A door in the right side wall led to the breakfast room/kitchen.

Sitting on opposite ends of the sofa against the left wall were Stanley and Marla Locklear. Stanley was in his shirt and pants, but had no shoes on his bare feet. Marla was wearing pink athletic wear. I observed that her face had been cleaned up; she must've had blood spatter on her, I surmised.

I also felt the tremendous tension in the room between them. They were not looking at each other. Stanley was looking down at the floor as he sipped a drink in his hand, his eyes and face showing his shock at the events of the evening. Marla was looking more angry than anything else.

Jerome, Claire, Teresa, Miriam Walters, and Sheriff Griswold had come in behind me. Sergeant Hicks and Patrol Officer Lisa Burrell were also in the room, watching over the Locklears. It was beginning to be a crowded room.

The Locklears looked up at me as I looked around. I finally looked at them and said "I'm Police Commander Troy. Have your statements been taken yet?"

Stanley Locklear said "With all due respect, sir, I'm sure you understand that due to the nature of this, and the use of a gun in self-defense, I'd like to have a lawyer present before I answer any questions or make a statement. I'll be glad to cooperate, but I'd like a lawyer present for any questioning."

"I do understand." I said. "Have you called an attorney yet?"

"No sir." said Locklear. "Your Officers won't let me get my cellphone to call one."

I nodded. "We'll let you call someone in a few minutes. Er... where did you get that drink?"

"Sir, with respect," intoned Locklear, "I'd like to have a lawyer present before I answer any questions or make a statement---"

"I made him that drink, before Tom and Chuck came in." Marla Locklear said, a tinge of anger and bitterness in her voice.

"All right." I said. "Ma'am, has your statement been taken?"

Marla said "I told the blonde lady Detective what happened."

"

Your

side of it." snarled Stanley.

"It's

the

side of it!" Marla fired back. "If you think it's different, then tell them what

you

think happened!"

"Okay, okay." I said. Speaking to everyone, I said "We need to separate these two. Sergeant Hicks, would you take Mr. Locklear into the living room and stay with him? And he is not to have any more alcohol. Mrs. Locklear, you stay here with Officer Burrell." Stanley Locklear got up and went with Sergeant Hicks.

Claire Michaels said "I'll take you to the bedroom where the shooting occurred, sir." We went into the hallway. Detective Joanne Warner was in the doorway of the room at the end of the hall, on the right side. There were also two doors to rooms on the left.

I stopped rather than go down the hallway. "Hold on." I said. "Let's go through this from the beginning. Were they surprised by the perps in the bedroom?"

"No sir." said Jerome Davis. "It started in the kitchen and the den."

"Let's go to the kitchen, then." I said.

'Where is the crime scene room?" Miriam Walters asked impatiently.

"Down the hallway, here." Claire Michaels said. "I'll take you to it."

"You got your barf bag ready, Walters?" Sheriff Griswold said derisively.

"I would imagine I've seen a lot worse." Miriam said disdainfully, her beady black eyes flashing dark fire at the Sheriff's insult. They followed Claire down the hallway. Teresa and I exchanged 'looks' at that repartee as we followed Jerome back through the den into the kitchen.

There were a number of dirty dishes and cookware in the sink, and it was generally untidy. There were Crime Lab techs examining the back door that led to the garage. Detective George Newman was examining it with them.

"Whaddya got, George?" I asked as I came up to them.

"Hello sir." said Newman. "It doesn't look like this door was forced, and the outside door to the garage wasn't forced, either."

Jerome said "That fits with Mrs. Locklear's narrative, sir."

"And what is that narrative?" Teresa asked. "Just the Cliff Notes, anyway."

Jerome said "The Locklears got back from a dinner celebrating their anniversary about 9:30pm. They started... er, this is going to be rather explicitly sexual, sir..."

I said "My wife is a full Professor of Sexual Psychology at the University. I doubt you can tell me anything that will shock me. Of course, you might offend Commander Croyle's virgin ears, and she'll have to go to Confession when we're done here..."

"It won't be sex talk that I'll have to confess to." Teresa replied. "Especially if I get hold of that crowbar of yours."

"Oh,

now

she wants a crowbar." I said with a grin. Jerome and George both grinned at that, and our repartee. Then I said "I'm kidding around, but be as explicit as you need to be, Jerome."

"Yes sir." said Jerome. "According to Mrs. Locklear, they were getting frisky in the den, sitting on the couch. Mrs. Locklear made Mr. Locklear a drink, then went to the bedroom to change clothes while he remained in the den, drinking the drink."

"Which Mr. Locklear was finishing when we came in." I said. "That should've been taken up by the Crime Lab. Make a note of that, Commander Croyle." As Teresa made a note, I said "Okay, what happened next?"

Jerome: "She came back into the den in a lacy bra, fishnet stockings, and high heels. She and Mr. Locklear began making out and getting him out of his clothes. Then she... she said that she began fellating him. Then she said she was going to the kitchen to get some wine. He stayed in den. She said she let the two men in, they put on masks, and she cried out as part of the roleplay before they led her into the den and confronted the husband. At that point they were led to the bedroom."

"Okay." I said. "Let's go to the crime scene."

Jerome began leading me down the hallway. "There are three bedrooms, sir." he said. "The one to the left in the back corner is a guest bedroom, and this nearer bedroom was converted into Mr. Locklear's office and architect drawing board. The men forced them to go into the master bedroom, back here."

He stopped at the doorway and let me enter the room. It was a nightmarish scene. Two naked men were lying on the king-size bed that occupied most of the space in the room. One man was lying horizontally across the pillows on top, face down. The other was lying on his back on the right side of the bed as I looked from the door. Both had been shot in the head at what appeared to be point blank range, and had also taken shots to their chests. Their masks had been removed and were laying on the bed near their heads.

And in an observation that would be sure to please Deputy Chief Tanya P. Muscone, both of their penises were still erect, meaning they'd died while sexually aroused.

Crime Lab techs were processing the scene, which was marked with those little plastic number stands in various places. Detective Theo Washington was overseeing the techs, and Joanne Warner was imitating my dog Buddy and supervising the supervisor.

I said "Who have you assigned to this case, Lieutenant?"

Claire Michaels broke in and said "Washington, Warner, Coleman, and Newman are here. I called them all in."

"Isn't that overkill?" Miriam Walters asked.

"Telling us how to do our jobs?" I said snottily.

"You keep trying to tell me how to do mine." Miriam fired back.

"Just stop it, Walters." growled Sheriff Griswold. "In fact, you've seen this crime scene. Let's you and me get out of here, and let the Iron Crowbar and his Detectives do their jobs."