Evergreen Cherry 4 – 5 11/02

4

Turner was right, it was bad. They had a pair of bodies in a room, in a bed. That’d be one thing. But that wasn’t the bad part. It was how their deaths were accomplished. Each one, sitting there side by side, had a knife in their chest.

Which just didn’t fit. It’d take a good amount of force to pierce in the way those particular implements did, as well as opportunity. And yet, here were two of them, side by side, and the place looking like it was free of a struggle. It didn’t make sense. Usually if you have two people in bed, the only way you’re going to get them is with a couple quickly placed shots.

Chance looked around the hotel room while Turner looked over the stiffs. It was well furnished, no surprise considering the celebrities had picked it out. Chance figured he didn’t have enough zeros in his paycheck to stay there casually. He was burning money just looking around, so he concentrated on clues, if there were any.

The hotel staff was being interviewed by another officer, and soon after Chance asked him what they said.

“Strangest thing, Chance,” Officer Parker said. “Neither of them checked out the place. I don’t mean just under a false name, I thought of that too. Someone else entirely, claiming to be a gopher for Ivan, paid in cash and asked the staff to keep it hushed while placing the order under Ivan’s name. As for when the stars arrived, nobody knows.”

“Come on, how can no one know? Sure they are celebs, but someone had to notice the arrival. You tell them we’re just looking for facts, or did you decide to get all tough on all potentials?” Chance asked.

“No, really. I thought of it. But all I can get from everyone from the desk to the cleaning lady, so to speak, is that someone paid for the rooms, cash, at some point the celebs must have arrived, and then later on they were discovered how you saw. Nobody saw them arrive,” Parker said.

“All right, how about the gopher?” Chance asked.

“They got a tape, but they’re already telling me it’s useless, that he was wearing a hat, dark glasses, and gloves. You’d think that’d make them suspicious, right? Well of course they were, but he peddled the celebrity story and about a need for secrecy, so they bought it. Even accepted cash for it, when you know most people are going to be paying credit,” Parker said.

“So either that’s indeed a gopher, or our killer. How about suspects?” Chance asked.

“Well when he was here we got Patricia’s husband with an alibi at a recording, so if this guy was our killer, it wasn’t the husband. We’re going through both of their staff now, but we’re coming up with nothing. I almost hope that guy isn’t the killer,” Parker said.

“Whys that?”

“Cause if he is, we’re, no, you’re, going to have a ball of a time trying to find him,” Parker said. He finished his report and flashed a sly smile. Chance gave a chuckle and walked off. He had hoped to glean something definitive from the staff, but it was shaping up to be something bad.

Turner was still going over the bodies and checking out the room they were in. Pictures were being taken everywhere of everything. Chance sighed and paced around, looking for anything of note. Officer parker walked out of the room, his particular duties were over.

“Hey Turner!” Chance yelled out. Turner looked up from what he was checking and threw Chance a glance.

“What is it?” Turner asked. Chance was standing by the door, holding it open.

“Get one of the forensic boys to check this out,” Chance said.

Turner knew that call. Chance had found something new, something that might’ve been missed. Turner grabbed one of the examiners and joined Chance at the doorway.

“Right there, outside the door. In the hallway, right there, a drop of blood,” Chance said.

Turner had to squint a bit, but he did notice the smallest detail that Chance had pointed out. Outside the door, a short ways into the hallway, was a smallish drop of blood. The examiner looked up at Turner after investigating it.

“You want a sample of this? It could be anyone’s, this far out,” the examiner said.

“Yeah, get it,” Turner said. He turned to Chance and asked, “So what’s special about this one?”

“I got a hunch. The boys will test it and it’ll match one of our victims,” Chance said.

“If it does…” Turner started.

“Then we got bigger problems than imagined,” Chance finished.

“Indeed. Chance, how’d you find this, it’s pretty out there. Got any basis to believe it’d be theirs?” the examiner asked.

“Just lucky, I guess. You know if I’m right we’re looking at something bad. Let’s hope I’m wrong,” Chance said. He was pretty sure he was right, though he wasn’t keen on the troubles of being correct this time.

The men sighed at the debacle this was looking to be, and then continued their investigation of the scene to see what else could turn up.

5

Stirling wasn’t looking too happy. Truthfully, he had been hoping for a simple case of adultery and a vengeful spouse. When alibis started checking out, and then Chance came in pronouncing his theory that the bodies were dead before they ever entered the bed, Stirling started looking for a glass.

Turner gave the material facts with a straight face, but he still knew the issue was looking bad. No prints on the knife, no fibers or hairs of those other than the dead occupants. It got better, though.

They did some checks at Chance’s prodding. Checked the clothes to see if they had been worn. They hadn’t, they’d just been laid out to look like they had.

And then there were the wounds. Another quick check done at Chance’s prodding. It was discovered that, at the very least, Ivan was wearing some kind of shirt when stabbed. That kind of news was making this look like an even worse circus than the media was portraying it. They were still stuck on the idea of the spouses, and alibis just moved the hands holding the weapon from that of a spouse to that of someone that must have been hired by said spouse. The chief wasn’t going to let them hear anything about the evidence they acquired, however.

Soon enough the results were back on the spot outside the room. It was only one, but it was a match for Patricia.

That did it. A room rented by an unknown, two bodies that were killed prior to their entrance to that room, and some sicko out there who felt wise enough to frame it up as a case of adultery gone bad. When the lab also said they couldn’t find that much DNA from one person on the other, it got worse. Then there’s the whole matter of how could they possibly get to that room, especially considering their likely state of death at the time.

“Well, we’ll have to find that out,” Chance said.

“He messed up in enough places. If he hadn’t the force would still be trying to find some dirt on the spouses. He’s bound to have screwed up somewhere else,” Turner said.

“And what if the media is right, what then boys? What if it was a hired man? It was done up mostly right. I’ve had it, this better not end up a wash. We got an entire city of grieving folks over this couple, and they are out for blood. Vultures. Even the networks are getting a kick out of it. If they aren’t running the news about developments, they are playing one of their movies to drum up ratings. I can’t let this blow over and wait for it to cool a bit. We need one defendant twelve will find guilty, and it’s your jobs to find him. Or her. I want this guy. Go on, get out of here,” Chief Stirling said.

Turner and Chance took their leave while the chief buried his head in his hands.

“He’s really taking it bad,” Chance said.

“Yeah yeah. He’s had other things to deal with. Case like this isn’t as bad as he says it is, but it’ll break a man that’s already full of ills,” Turner said. He reached his desk and started looking through a file.

“Somethings up, what do you mean by all that?” Chance asked.

“Nothing I can tell you if you repeat it,” Turner said. He hadn’t looked up from his file, just told it as a matter of fact.

“Fine, so spill. Promise I’ll leave it be,” Chance said.

“His wife. She’s becoming his ex,” Turner said. Chance stood silent for a minute, then sat at his own desk across the way.

“Well, poor guy. Did he love her?” Chance asked.

“That’s not leaving it be. And yes,” Turner said.

“Sorry. Well, life has its downs. Looks like the chief is having his all at once. Must be tough on a guy, regardless,” Chance said.

“It sure is,” Turner said, and then he flipped a page. He squinted a moment and then put on some reading glasses.

“That… Turner, have you?” Chance started to ask.

“That’s not leaving it be. Leave it be, Chance,” Turner said.

Chance took his cue and didn’t inquire further. If only he had known at that time. Well, it wouldn’t have mattered, in truth, but it would’ve been one less thing Chance would have to figure out later on. Turner had his own special secrets too.

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Prunus ilicifolia

Well my book name doesn’t appear to be taken by any other authors, but it does appear to be used as one of the common names for Prunus ilicifolia.

Knowing that gives me some ideas, as it’d be nice to add another meaning to the name.

Best of all? It is native to California. I’ve probably seen these in my youth, based on the areas of CA it appears to mostly inhabit. It’s a holly shrub, and I know I’ve seen plenty of those. Since it bears fruit I do think I’ve seen this before, but I believe we never made a trial of finding out if the fruit was edible.

Anyways, it just gives me some more ideas, and suddenly a door to a certain plot subject appeared. I hadn’t intended to directly reference this particular plant with my book title, but I’m willing to accept it as fodder.

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NaNoWriMo 2012 book: Evergreen Cherry – starring Chance Buchanan

I will be writing a book for this Nano, and I shall make a point of posting it. I’ve also devoted a category for it that can be accessed by the sidebar, the books page, or here. That opens it for criticism, I know, but it’s a NaNoWriMo book. They are conceived in plot and initial pages on 11/01, thus will have a numerous number of faults, as my prior NaNo book did. But it’ll be 50,000 words of creative writing, and when/if I decide to make it commercially available it’ll likely be free.

That said, I’m open to comments. Not just for like/dislike/encouragement/laughter, but also for suggestions. If you read it and think, “boy I think this should happen next,” I’m open to hearing it. Because I’ll be honest: I have no clue how the story is going to play out until the final scenes. I know how this NaNo book is going to end, but getting there, I have no clue! So I’m open to creative influences. Not just because I dunno, but also because this is a genre I’ve not written before, nor know how to write. It’ll be a somewhat detective/mystery/solve the crime and catch the villain type. Or at least that’s what I hope!

Anyways, that’s all for the introduction. From now on I’ll post the bits as they are made. Hopefully once a day, but at the end of the month the goal is to reach 50,000 words, even if that means cramming 10,000 of them into 11/29. To make it easier to keep track of scenes (something similar to what I’ll be doing with my “The Lupine Chevalier” book), I’ve abandoned chapters altogether, and numbered each passage. I’ve also taken to spacing out paragraphs rather than indenting them.

Evergreen Cherry – starring Chance Buchanan

1

He was being chased, but he laid in wait anyways. He heard the footsteps, the two fast feet coming first. The two slower feet were a ways behind, just as expected. He smirked, then reached into his pocket. He pulled out the gun, made sure the ammunition was ready and the safety was off. And then he waited for the pursuers to catch up, one by one.

He was just behind an offshoot of the hallway. He knew a pursuer would ignore it and keep running until they reached the far end and turned. He wasn’t going to wait. He knew the fast one would speed right by him, and he’d take that opportunity to strike, to relieve himself of one pursuer, and then he could take his time with the other. Just a few more seconds.

He readied his gun, aiming it into the hall. Even if the pursuer did stop and see him, it would be too late. He’d be surprised and that’d be the end of it. Smart plan, right?

So it was a shattering surprise when the steps didn’t slow, but the direction had changed. It was a surprise that he was turning the corner and beginning to duck at the same time, making himself lower than the gun’s aim. Here he was, expecting to catch this guy by surprise, but the guy had avoided his gun and jumped right into him. His gun was out of his possession by the time he hit the floor.

“Well now, Jake, you mind if I read you your rights?” asked the young man with the sly grin and the old hat.

“How?” Jake asked, still surprised.

“One word at a time. You have the right to remain silent, you know, the kind of speech that murderers love to hear,” the young man said while snapping on some cuffs.

“How’d you know I was there?” Jake asked, determined to know. It was inconceivable in his criminal mind that the man could have pulled off what he did. He knew it.

“I Google’d you. Amazing what technology can find nowadays. Ask it where the bad man is hiding, it just works. Or maybe I just got lucky,” the man said.

Jake didn’t believe it, but the cuffs were on him, and the man he was so sure he was going to get the better of was the one arresting him. He had to accept it. He heard the two slower steps finally approach.

“You got him, Chance?”

“Yeah, he ain’t getting away again. Life of three meals and plenty of cheerful company awaits him. Handle his piece for me, will you? Thanks Turner,” Chance said.

“Yeah yeah,” Turner said. “I got it. I’ll handle the papers. And boy, I know that look. You took a gamble again. You know it’ll catch up with you. Just how did you catch him this time?”

“Aw, you know me Turner, I’m just favored that way. Unlike this piece of work. Up you go. Get moving, gotta get you to the station before the captain takes his nap,” Chance said.

The two detectives carried their prisoner off, while the criminal kept muttering to himself, going over the events in his mind, trying to make sense of things.

As for the detectives, it was just another day, though a bit more exciting than most. Jack Turner hadn’t expected on getting a workout this day, considering his age, but this particular killer felt the urge to get Jack back in top form, back in his marathon shape from decades past. He’d been on the force longer than most, but stayed in his current position, even though he could’ve risen with seniority. He never did indicate if he liked it or not, he just did it.

But he’s not the one I’m here to talk about. No, any more delay and he’d be liable to run me in for going on about Turner. There was Turner’s new partner, newly minted as a detective, all fresh and shiny in that way that new guys were. He had his own accomplishments in the past before, Turner knew that, but his beat was a new one. Thus, rookie applied in his head.

That was Chance Buchanan. He must have had some kind of influence from those old cop shows, as he wore one of those slick hats you saw those guys wore. A hat and a slick grin, all on top of a face that accurately portrayed his youth. That was Chance Buchanan.

He nodded at the mumblings of the caught killer, always wearing that grin that made those in cuffs feel like popping him one right in the nose. This one, though, was still up in his thoughts. Now, it’s not right to call an individual who decides to break the most sacred provisions of the law intelligent, but this fellow wasn’t the dullest pin in the box, and if you had seen the layout yourself, as well as the lighting and how far ahead of the cops he had been, you’d be inclined to say he had made a smart move in waiting.

It was, I’ll reveal that much. Problem was, he didn’t know Chance Buchanan. He had a certain advantage in this particular matter that nobody was aware of. But that’ll have to wait, otherwise he’ll get upset at what’s supposed to be the big reveal. I’ll get to that when I get to that, and then we can all sit back and say, “Of course!”

Enough of that. Chance and Turner, for the old timer was always calling Chance by his first name, and Chance by Jack’s last, finished bringing their result of investigation, worry, and chase to the station, and then said their goodbyes when the day’s shift was over. That day was over, and no emergencies had appeared between the time they booked one guy and then finished the paperwork on him.

2

Water cooler, police headquarters. Chance was standing around jerking the chains of three other rookies who were stuck doing basic patrols. Telling them all about how he was involved in a struggle of the live and death kind, and how this rabid killer had him dead to straights.

Turner took the opportunity as he passed to calm some of the flames, saying, “Chance telling you about that killer, eh? Sure was big. You can see all five feet of him down in the block. We haven’t moved him yet. Oh, did Chance say he was six two? I haven’t had my coffee.”

Chance ran after him a moment later, his group dispersed and Chance visibly annoyed.

“Come on Turner, why did you have to rain like that? Just a good ribbing, give the lads something to bite into. Something they all hope to do something and make it out well and fine, then tell their own story. I was showing them how it’s done, how the good life is supposed to be told.”

“Yeah yeah. You do that on your own time. We got work,” Turner said.

“Was there a call?”

“Not yet, but I expect one soon. With all the sirens blaring this morning and the chatter, sounds like something happened. The other boys are out, if it’s something after all we’ve got a clean plate waiting to be filled,” Turner said. He was already sitting at his desk and flipping through a notebook. He touched his closed laptop, but decided against opening it and removed his hand.

The old timer’s instincts were usually right so Chance took a moment to polish down a cup of java and then flipped through some case notes on his phone. Sure enough, not ten minutes later the call came, and the duo reported.

Chief Stirling hung the receiver a moment after they arrived. He motioned for them to sit, and then placed his elbows on his desk, intertwined his fingers, sighed, and then dropped his hands to the sides of his chair.

“We got a couple bodies. Down by A and Thirteenth. Look into it. Tread light, this one has media. IDs are in, and looks like we got a couple celebrities,” Stirling said.

“Great. I’ll go grab Lindsay, have her do my makeup,” Chance said while popping up from his chair.

“Down,” Turner rumbled. Chance gave him a look, and then complied with a sigh. A sigh that was repeated by Turner. “So you’re giving us a circus.”

“It’s not my fault you caught one and cleared your plate. Look, my hands are tied as well. I got everyone out looking for purse snatchers or jilted lovers who’ve decided to take the law into their own hands, and then something like this comes along. What do you think I’m gonna do, wait for Peterson and Nunez to finish finding The Apologist and then stick them with handling the crowd? I’m sure you’d love to see it, but I gotta send whoever is free. That’s you two. Maybe I should switch cases around, see how you feel about that, see which circus you’d rather deal with. So Turner, Chance may not be all that off. If you have a makeup kit, smile for the cameras.”

Turner didn’t reply, and the chief didn’t sound like he was joking. Chance managed to stifle a guffaw, but he was looking forward to the limelight. Ant the chief’s implication about sticking Peterson and Nunez with this case while he got to chase the nonexistent trail of a serial killer impeded his ceremonious thoughts. That trail was dead, and Chance knew it. Solving it would be fame and glory, but things out of reach are out of reach.

The duo took their leave and arranged to meet in five at the car. Chance said he’d be off finding Lindsay to give him a once over, to which Turner just mumbled and ignored. He headed to the car right away and waited minutes it would take for Chance to arrive. He arrived looking no different, but Turner didn’t care.

3

A circus was waiting for them. That much was expected, but it soon because obvious the chief had left out a key detail about these celebrities. Not only were they Ivan Talon and Patricia Boulevard, two of the biggest stars of the past few years, but they were each married to other people. And one look at the scene in question made that particular fact an obvious point of interest.

Chance’s exuberance at media attention was quickly squashed he he started running his thoughts about the scene and people in question. He could see it now, he knew the stations must already be playing out reenactments and investigating where a certain couple of spouses were. He already knew where one was, and confirmed it with a quick net search. As he flipped through a few pages his fears were confirmed.

“It’s national already, Turner,” Chance said. He pulled at his tie slightly and waved his hat once before returning it to his head.

“Great. They’ll have the case solved and someone convicted before we have our first suspect. This isn’t going to go over well,” Turner said.

He was right. The media was all over it. Vengeful lover with a question mark after it was the breaking news on each network. Some had already charted out graphs and had broken out stopwatches to show how one of the spouses could have committed the crime and then made it to their planned appearance at some show with a whole twenty seconds to spare. Their lawyers must have already started on the chief and the courts. Chance had to chuckle at the thought, now that he knew the chief was venting some of his own frustration in playing them.

“Media attention, yeah right. Stirling knew it’d be a bit more than media attention. You got an idea, Turner?”

“Ignore them, concentrate on the case. Vultures. As if it wasn’t going to be bad enough already.”

### – That’s all for now – ###

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Brief NaNo

The hours are ticking away, and soon November 1st, 2012 will be upon this timezone.

I’ve wondered what to do for NaNoWriMo, whether to even do it, and where to schedule it in. I’m sure there’s enough time, it’s just a matter of doing it.

And I may just do mystery/crime/detective after all. A genre I’ve probably read more than any other, yet haven’t written. I don’t know about it. But considering the Nero Wolfe binge, a mystery may be in the works either way.

Who knows, maybe I do have an idea for a series in that area.

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Rex Stout’s Nero Wolfe is thoroughly enjoyable

A few years ago Joel D Canfield (just Google him) introduced me to the A&E production of Nero Wolfe, based off the books, officially title “A Nero Wolfe Mystery.” It starred Timothy Hutton as Archie Goodwin and Maury Chaykin as Nero Wolfe. That may have been my first introduction to them and may bias me some.

However.

I’ve just started on the fourth Nero Wolfe book, having devoured the first three books (written in the 1930s) in the past few weeks – not month(s), weeks! I must say, the portrayals I saw in the A&E series have stuck with me, for it is all to easy, several years later, to picture Timothy Hutton whenever Archie does something of interest. If there is one downfall, it may have been that Maury Chaykin may have been too small for Nero Wolfe’s actual size (possibly one of the times where “fiction” lords it’s moniker over “reality”), but his depiction I saw all those years ago falls well in line with the eccentric genius I get to read of now.

The writing is superb. The sporadic use of a dictionary it not only recommended, but required at times. Never fear though, for each foray into the dictionary always yields a worthwhile reward in word meaning and usage, and it’s requirement is sparse enough that the times it’s appearance is requested it is picked up with joy and song.

Well, maybe that’s going a bit overboard, but it’s still fun to crack open the big book about one to three times per novel just to clarify exactly which way Wolfe is insulting a law enforcement officer, a client, a murderer, or most frequently, the narrator. Though there are quite a few places where one would be thrown by the use of an orchid’s name, it isn’t a requirement to have any real knowledge of the plant or purchase a book on plant biology. It makes part of the books just as eccentric as their namesake.

As complicated as that sounds, the writing itself, the style, tone, and presentation, as presented by a likable narrator, are all friendly to the eye and ear. They present themselves in a simpler manner than Mr. Wolfe would have you believe, and thus make for good reading. Archie (Rex Stout? Oh who cares!) provides descriptions as needed, but never so many that the reader gets bogged down in details. Being a mystery, there are plenty of details always given out at various times, but they are never presented so lengthily that the reader feels they have to slog through “yet another 5-page description of a door…”  – a feeling I relegate to authors who, lacking in substance, feel they must use as many unintelligible words as possible to describe the most inane of details in order to render the reader impressed for all the wrong reasons.

I’d rather read a Rex Stout Nero Wolfe book than watch a Japanese anime. That’s saying something. I only fear that I’ll run out of them some day in the future.

But I realize it’s pointless to worry about that until I have fewer than ten books remaining.

Mostly, though, I’m going to credit Mr. Stout with returning a love of reading to me. The benefits have already become pronounced. I’ve stopped watching nearly so much television of any kind, animated or otherwise. For some reason my memory is working again – a silly thing to say, but one I say regardless. Things that are read are easier to recall, connections are easier to make, words are easier to think of and say.

But mostly, it’s about finding a series that’s attention-grabbing, non-televised, entertaining, and mentally stimulating. For now, Mr. Stout has it. If I happen to run out, I have a few other ideas in mind. Until then, I shall enjoy Nero Wolfe’s “Pfui!”

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