story The Case of the Double Identity - Part I

[Pythor 1,354]

 

 

The rain fell in torrents, dousing the solitary taxi as it made its way down the urban street. Every minute or so, the vehicle would encounter a puddle, its wheels sending wet spray into every direction. Homes, businesses, and office buildings whizzed by in a blur as the taxi driver fought to avoid hydroplaning. It was obvious by the ridiculous speed at which the craft was going that this was no Sunday drive. Getting to the destination was all that mattered and time was of the essence. 

 

Besides the driver, hunched over the wheel and squinting into the rain, there was a tall man in the backseat who leaned forward, urging the other to drive faster. He wore a dark coat with a high collar and a dark gray winter cap that was pulled over his head at a bizarre angle. Seat belt forgotten in the gravity of the moment, the man gripped the back of the front seat with a purpose, the shadow of a smile playing on the lips of his stern face. Asher Underwood finally had a case. 

 

The summer had been a slow one, or at least in Underwood’s opinion. Sure there had been the occasional burglary and vandalism here and there, but nothing of any great consequence. “Practice cases” Asher called them. Little mysteries and such that could be resolved within a day or two. The detective had longed for something more challenging. Something that would push him to his limits. An out of the ordinary case that would be anything but normal.

 

Now it was the end of August, and the weather was turning sour in Los Angeles. It had been cloudy over the past few days, and during the past night the sky had unleashed the power it had stored up. As usual, Asher had woken up at dawn, but had scarce time to get dressed before the phone rang. It was Darrin, Asher’s friend and the chief of police. There had what looked to have been a murder down by the beach. Except there was an intriguing twist - no body had been found. In fact, the victim hadn’t even been identified. However, copious amounts of blood discovered near the scene, and a grisly mess of what seemed to be organs, convinced the police that this indeed was a murder. 

 

Underwood had barely given time for Darrin to finish speaking before grabbing his coat and rushing out the door of his apartment. Within another five minutes, he was seated inside the taxi with his long time buddy Travis at the wheel.

 

They sped down the nearly empty boulevard, heading south and gradually sloping downwards until they could see the faint outline of the ocean in the distance. With windshield wipers on the highest setting and swaying heavily due to the strong wind gusts, the taxi screeched to a halt in the small parking lot of a run down warehouse situated about a quarter of a mile up from the beach. Underwood had been informed that this was where the murder had been committed. 

 

Upon reaching the warehouse, Asher was immediately struck by the oddity of the building’s location. Surrounded by a well-to-do, coastal neighborhood, the worn down structure looked sorely out of place. Three cop cars were parked near the entrance, and a couple curious spectators had braved the rain and were now hovering about carrying umbrellas. The palm trees scattered around the warehouse trembled violently, their branches threatening to snap in two. Not one to linger, the detective swiftly exited the vehicle and, throwing the hood of his coat over his hat, proceeded to make his way through the freezing rain up to the large double doors of the building. He was met at the entrance by the deputy of police, who led him to a small room on one side of the warehouse. 

 

As the two men entered the dimly lit chamber, a tall figure kneeling on the floor looked up. 

 

“Asher. Thank god you’ve come.” 

 

The private detective smirked, “Pleasant day for a murder, eh?” 

 

Darrin, large and muscular, looked like he belonged on a football team. A full beard covered the bottom half of his face, and he wore a police cap that partially hid his balding head. He motioned for Underwood to come over to where he knelt, then nodded at his deputy, who stood uncertainly in the doorway. 

 

“We’ll be fine here. Go do a final check of the building.”

 

Asher waited for the officer to leave before joining Darrin. The police chief was stooped over a patch of what looked to be blood splattered on the hardwood floor. He ran his gloved hand over the liquid. 

 

“I’ve already sent multiple vials to forensics along with the entrails we found. They’re working on identifying the victim as we speak.”

 

Asher nodded. “And have you found the body?”

 

Darrin responded gruffly. “No. I’ve had my men search the entire building and the surrounding vicinity for the past hour with no luck.” He cleared his throat before continuing. “I know you’ve been waiting for this kind of incident. Well now you have it.” 

 

Underwood scanned the room as his mind ran through possible scenarios. Just to the left of the pool of blood there was a coat closet, empty save for a lone coat limply dangling from a hangar and a pair of black shoes. Up against the right wall, pushed in front of the sole window of the room, was the most prominent feature of the chamber, a large desk. Various vials and pitchers filled with an assortment of liquids occupied the majority of the wooden desktop. A few sheets of paper on which a substantial amount of mathematical equations had been written were grouped together in a neat pile. There was also a calculator, it's display void of any numbers, placed on top of the stack. Nothing in the room alluded to the name of its owner, and the walls were completely blank, giving the impression of a dreary and desolate workspace. What little dim, gray light that filtered through the window further heightened the feeling of utter deadness. The private detective walked over to the desk and pulled out one of the drawers. He peered inside, but couldn’t make out anything due to the lack of illumination. 

 

“Surely there’s got to be a light switch somewhere?” Underwood remarked without looking up. 

 

Darrin wiped his mouth. “Yes, the light… If you take a look above you, you’ll find the bulb completely shattered.” Then, as Asher squinted upwards at what remained of the glass, the chief added, “We already cleaned up the shards on the floor.”

 

“Well this is already getting interesting,” Asher muttered as he whipped out a small flashlight. After quickly examining the contents of the drawer, he slammed it closed, disgusted at his lack of success. He turned to face Darrin.

 

“Who discovered the blood?”

 

“A passerby by the name of Greg Rangler. He was apparently out walking earlier this morning when the storm hit. He took shelter inside the warehouse and claims he was just wandering around passing time when he stumbled upon the scene. Before sending the blood and organs off for testing, we had a specialist examine the materials. Basing off the contents of the stomach, he placed the approximate time of death for the victim at seven this morning.” Darrin glanced down at his watch. “Eight hours ago.” 

 

“So the door to this office wasn’t locked then?” Asher questioned.

 

Darrin nodded. “Rangler told us the door was slightly ajar before he walked in, but of course there’s no way for us to verify that. When I arrived, the door was open, but the window was locked.”

 

Asher voiced the obvious. “So, barring the fact that this Rangler is lying, we know the murderer had to enter through the door.” 

 

“So it seems,” Darrin mused. 

 

“Any fingerprints on the calculator or vials?”

 

“None,” the chief answered firmly. 

 

The detective started pacing. “You’ve been assuming this was a murder,” he spoke in a queer tone. “But I don’t see any proof of that. Just because there’s some blood on the ground and other remains, which may or may not have belonged to the same person as the blood does, is not indicative of murder.”

 

“Well I don’t see what else it could be,” Darrin responded. “Certainly too gruesome for suicide,” then added sarcastically, “unless be blew himself up with a cannon.”

 

The conversation was interrupted by the reappearance of the deputy in the doorway. He was accompanied by a slim, young man the detective guessed was in his mid twenties. His blond, almost white hair was piled up on his head in an irregular fashion. The man wore a leather jacket over a plain white t-shirt, which was bleach stained in various spots. Torn jeans and dirty, over-sized work boots completed the outfit. He had a quizzical look in his eyes, shifting his glace between the detective and chief of police. 

 

The deputy spoke in his slightly English accent. “I found him pulling a semi into one of the truck bays…”

 

The man himself cut the deputy off. “Name’s Kreur. Trent Kreur.” He spoke quickly, as if in a hurry to depart. “I work for the Hanson Trucking Corporation. Unload here every Thursday evening.”

 

The police chief skipped introductions. “Do you happen to know whose office this is?”

 

Kreur looked the room over on a carefree manner. “Can’t say for certain sir, but I know there are at least six of these little rooms like this in the warehouse. Do most of my delivering for a Mr. Shrewter, he has one of the offices on the other side of the building.”

 

“Ah,” Darrin exclaimed, snatching a piece of paper from his own coat pocket. “Do you know the names of any of the others?” 

 

“Well,” Kreur began. “There’s Redford in 1216, Day in 1290, and Chase Thorton right next door.” He leaned out of the room and nodded to his left. “I know there’s another but can’t remember his name at the moment.” Scratching his chin, he added, “I’ve delivered to everyone in here at least once. Say what’s this all about?” 

 

A man was murdered in here this morning. We think it was the owner.” Then, trying to ignore the look of surprise on Kreur’s face, the police chief went on. 

 

“So you’ve seen the man who occupies this office?” Darrin questioned impatiently. 

 

Kreur looked uneasily about. “Not exactly. I’ve only delivered to him once. A specially ordered crate about two weeks ago. Had explicit orders to leave it outside the room here. Never actually saw the man.” He spoke in queer, choppy sentences. 

 

Underwood, who had taken up the seat at the desk, looked up from where he had been examining the vials and papers. 

 

“That was the only time you’ve ever delivered to him?” The detective asked earnestly. 

 

Kreur nodded. “He only moved in here a month or so ago I believe.”

 

Asher raised his eyebrows. “That’s certainly very suggestive. A special delivery closely followed by an untimely death. Perhaps…” the detective looked back down at the desktop and became lost in thought, never finishing his sentence. 

 

A short period of time elapsed during which Darrin further questioned the trucker. The chief obtained the phone numbers of three other office owners and was notified by Kreur that most of them would be back for work the following day. 

 

Underwood had been half listening to the conversation but now suddenly stiffened his back. Then without warning, the detective sprang up from the chair and bounded towards the door, an electric look in his eyes. As an afterthought, after he had traversed a good twenty feet of the corridor he whirled around and yelled back. “Darrin. Meet me back here tomorrow morning!”

 

Kreur was released shortly thereafter, and the bustle of activity that had occupied the building soon departed. The storm had abated a bit, and by ten o’clock that night even the light drizzle ceased to plague the city. 

 

Darrin spent the night at the police station, pondering over the events of the day. A missing body, a cracked lightbulb, a special delivery, a mysterious owner who went to great lengths not to be identified… what did it all mean? Was the owner of office in which the murder occurred the same as the victim? Or could someone else have been killed inside the chamber? And what had Underwood discovered that had prompted his hasty departure? One thing was for sure though. First thing in the morning he would hear back from the forensic department and hopefully learn the identity of the victim. 

 

Little sleep was awarded to the chief, and at the crack of dawn, he was up and dressed. After wolfing down a few slices of half cooked bacon, he called forensics. Apparently, the DNA in the blood matched up with a Dr. Jay Fresnow, scientist and CEO of a small company called “Nautilus” based in San Fransisco. Darrin was thoroughly perplexed upon hearing this information. Why had this man been in a small, run down warehouse in LA on a Thursday morning. Was he the owner of the office where he had also supposedly been murdered? And if so, why would a man with his position rent an office almost 400 miles south of his home?

 

The police chief immediately inquired as to the phone number and address of the “Nautilus” company, and was quickly supplied with them by the forensic department. He expressed a word of thanks before hanging up, then promptly dialed the company’s number.

 

Darrin remained where he had been standing, in the doorway of the police station with his coat half on, as the phone rang once, twice, three times before going to voicemail. He jerked his head back in frustration and slammed the phone down in the receiver. He’d call again in a few hours. For the moment, he needed to talk some things over with Asher.

 

A Toyota Prius and a quarter of an hour later, Darrin met Underwood in one of the open loading bays of the warehouse. A wide assortment of boxes and crates constituted the majority of the back and side walls and the wide entrance of the bay afforded a view of some nearby neighborhood homes to anyone within. The detective had set up a large desk in one of the back corners, behind which he currently sat, sporting a cross between a business like and a domineering countenance on his clean shaven face. The early morning shadows played upon his figure, creating the appearance one would imagine Sherlock Holmes having the moment before catching a dangerous criminal. Darrin was certainly aware of the incredible deduction and observation skills his friend possessed as he listened to Underwood explain what he had discovered the night before.

 

“I was very skeptical of the whole murder analysis to begin with,” Underwood admitted to his friend after the latter had taken a seat on a nearby crate. “The scene we found was almost too perfect. It had every piece of evidence except for the most important part… the actual body. It was because of this that I had my doubts.” He looked straight into Darrin’s eyes as he continued. “When I closely examined the room, I noticed two things. First, the fact that there was only one coat in the closet. This, verified by our friend Kreur, points to the owner having only recently moved in. Second, I noticed the immaculate condition that the chamber was in. Every vial was in its allotted place, the mathematical equations were carefully and evenly spaced on the sheets of paper, and the floor was meticulously clean.” Asher folded his hands together and place them on the desk. “I think it’s safe to assume that our victim was a pretty organized person. However,” the detective paused for effect, “as I closely looked over one of the vials, I noticed a drop of a foreign substance floating within the liquid. This particular vial happened to contain a type of oil.” Asher produced a small container filled with a thick liquid. He set it down on the desk  as he continued.”The drop I saw in the vial was water, easily perceptible due to the fact that water and oil don’t mix. Now this little “mistake” seems too out of place to be ignored. Why would someone painstakingly make sure a room was completely clean, only to have one of the most important items be flawed. Unless…” there was a gleam in Underwood’s eyes. “Unless the owner of the office didn’t do it. Now yesterday morning at say 7:00, the approximate time of death for our unknown victim, you remember it was raining.”

 

Darrin’s eyes grew wide at the implications of what Underwood was saying. “I spoke with forensics this morning.” the chief blurted out. “They verified that the victim was a Jay Fresnow from San Fransisco.” 

 

Underwood nodded appreciatively then murmured something unintelligible before continuing. 

 

“Suppose our murderer wore gloves. Obviously he had to enter the building from the outside, so they would have been wet from the rainwater. He then went into the office, performed the act, and before leaving examined the vials. Leaving no fingerprints due to the gloves, he left the building probably convinced that everything had gone smoothly.” 

 

Darrin half snorted. “That’s good and all, but it gets us nowhere in identifying the murderer himself.” There was silence until the police chief spoke again. “Well, at least we now know it was foul play after all.”

 

Underwood consented with a sigh. “So it seems. Although something still doesn’t seem quite right to me. For one thing, the mode. What could our murderer have possibly done to this Fresnow to create such a bloody mess. Secondly, the office door. I carefully examined the knob yesterday and the lock wasn’t broken. That means the door must have been unlocked. Assuming this man had a strong motive to kill, I’m puzzled why the door was left unbolted. Fresnow should have known he had an enemy…” the detective trailed off as a figure appeared in the opening of the truck bay. 

 

“Ah, Travis,” Underwood exclaimed.”Are they ready?” 

 

The chauffeur gave a thumbs up. “I’ll bring in Shrewter.” 

 

Asher turned to Darrin. “I’m going to bring each office owner in here one by one. It’s time we find out if any of these prime suspects is our murderer.”

 

The detective rubbed his hands together in a way that reminded Darrin of a kid in a candy store. Underwood then sat back, folded his arms across his chest, and assumed a professional look.

 

“You certainly have it all covered,” the chief awkwardly chuckled.

 

Underwood merely nodded. 

 

 

To be continued...

The Case of the Double Identity will be a four part series. One part will be released each month for four months. 

 

 

PyTHOR

 

[Hex 11,520]

Tankers! If your inner Sherlock (yes, I did just use that line again)... ah nvm. If you're all about mysterious happenings and plot twists at every corner, then buckle up and read all you can from the latest release hot off the rollers.

 

Happy reading!

[r_Given6 859]

Nice 

[Person_Random 4,991]

Hehe I loved the story!  I found the background excellently set and the amount of interaction between characters just right (unlike how I usually forget to add in dialogue).  The characters were really well developed and each had a very unique tone.  I found the plot very entertaining, though the ending sounded a little cliffhangerish (don't know if you intended to do that or not).  I saw a few missing commas here and there, I'll just quickly point it out in the spoiler.  This new forum lets me choose where to cite my sources, which is really cool, by the way.

 

On 11/8/2019 at 4:50 PM, pythor20000 said:

Kreur nodded. “He only moved in here a month or so ago, I believe.”

 

On 11/8/2019 at 4:50 PM, pythor20000 said:

“Ah, Travis,” Underwood exclaimed.”Are they ready?” 

When mentioning a person, add a comma.

On 11/8/2019 at 4:50 PM, pythor20000 said:

Sure, there had been the occasional burglary and vandalism here and there, but nothing of any great consequence. “Practice cases” Asher called them.

 

On 11/8/2019 at 4:50 PM, pythor20000 said:

Obviously, he had to enter the building from the outside, so they would have been wet from the rainwater.

Adverb thingy.

Overall though, exciting series, I'm kind of impatient knowing I'll have to wait another month before the next episode comes out.

Edited December 2, 2019 by Person_Random

[Krill_300 113]

No contests and News : (

[lionsmanetank3000 6]

nice job

[Krill_300 113]

Continue the Story :

Spoiler

 

. . .

 

 

LOL!

[Sacrifice 2,278]

I read it now. I couldn't pull my eyes of the article! Really interesting and very well written!