Barb as a femen girl?
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Noosed Nude NYC
- Thread starter windar
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Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Jeeves? That's why he was so hurried to buy tickets for sailing back to England in that other story.This is actually better set up than a lot of TV whodunits. Great work, team.
Now if we can just find the Butler, we've got it cracked.
windar
Teller of Tales
Thanks for the high praise, Jolly.This is actually better set up than a lot of TV whodunits. Great work, team.
Now if we can just find the Butler, we've got it cracked.
Back when I asked people to guess whodunnit in "The Bronx Crux Murders", Wragg said that when he watches a mystery on TV, he always guesses "It's the Vicar what dunnit" and is usually right, as he was there. Well, there's no Vicar in this story....
Of course we don't even know that ANYONE has dunnit other than the victim herself, do we?
windar
Teller of Tales
4.
Barb ‘s pleasure for dinner turned out to be La Bella Italia, the little neighborhood place near the station where, months ago, they had sat talking for hours while trying to puzzle out the intricacies of the Bronx Crux case, ending up in bed in Barb’s apartment. Since then they’d been a couple; not always a happy one, but usually an interesting one.
They hadn’t been back there since that night, and Domenico, the owner, was delighted to see them. “It’s the two finest of New York’s finest!” he cried , jumping out from behind the bar to pump Stan’s hand vigorously and hug Barb perhaps a touch closer than was strictly necessary. “You are heroes for catching those horrible men who crucified those women.”
“I’m no hero, Domenico,” Stan protested. “It was mostly hard work by a whole bunch of dedicated people and a little bit of luck, which never hurts either.”
“But you saved this lady, like a knight of old!” Domenico cried. Stan blushed. Domenico turned to Barb, taking her hand in his and looking concerned, “And you are alright now, Detective Moore?” he asked.
“Yes, I’m OK now, thanks to some excellent doctors and therapists. I’m back at work keeping Stan on the straight and narrow.”
“What a horrible experience it must have been,” Domenico said. “To be on a cross, like Our Lord.” He looked heavenward, or at least at the ceiling of his restaurant. “And for a man of the cloth to do such a thing. It’s shameful.”
“We can never tell what evil lurks within the human heart, Domenico,” Barb replied.
He crossed himself, glancing up once again, then led them to a table. “I hope you will accept a bottle of wine as a small token of admiration for two such great detectives.”
“If it’s that Montepulciano you gave us last time, we’d be honored, right Barb?” Stan said.
Barb smiled and nodded. “Yes, that was wonderful.”
“I bring it right away. Are you working on another big case right now?”
Stan glanced at Barb. “We’re not sure.” Domenico looked puzzled. How could detectives not know what they were working on? “Long story and we’re hungry. What are your specials tonight?”
They ordered and were enjoying their wine, waiting for the first course to arrive. Stan took a sip and looked across at Barb, her face radiant in the soft light. “So, Detective Moore, let’s say the parents aren’t in denial or lying, what would possess a seemingly happy girl who had just started college to kill herself?”
Barb took a sip of her wine. “It’s hard to say. Women that age can be suggestible.”
“Even women older than that,” Stan said.
Barb glared at him before continuing. “Something she read on line might have made her curious. These kinds of things, tempting death, are intrinsically fascinating, as we know very well from the attention our case got. There’s often a copy-cat phenomenon in schools where one student commits suicide and others attempt it who might not have otherwise.”
Stan shrugged, “Yeah, maybe I can see some kind of morbid curiosity, but to actually hang yourself?”
“I’m sure most people wouldn’t do anything beyond vaguely thinking about it, but maybe she was a thrill seeker. It’s quite possible she was just experimenting and didn’t intend to die, but slipped up and there was no one around to save her. Or maybe there were people there and they decided not to. That’s what I’d like to know.”
“You think she wasn’t alone? Some kind of suicide club?” Stan asked.
“I don’t know,” Barb replied. “I suppose it’s possible. It’s hard to believe that she never talked about it with anyone, maybe a counselor at the college or someone on a web site or Facebook or in person .”
“I agree,” Stan nodded. “And let’s say someone goaded her into doing it, for whatever reason, and whether they were there or not, would that be a crime? Murder by peer pressure, I guess you could call it. Of course, this is assuming that anyone else was involved, which we don’t know.”
“I’m not a lawyer,” Barb replied. “I don’t even play one on TV. But I know that if we’re going to actually investigate this as a case we need to look at her phone and computer to see if there’s anything there.”
Stan sighed. “That’s going to be tough. The parents don’t want to let us have them and I don’t see probable cause to get a warrant so long as Charlie feels he has to rule it a suicide. We need to go talk to the DA’s first thing in the morning and see what they say. Right after we talk with the uniforms who found her.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Barb replied. Further conversation was interrupted as the waiter brought the first course, mussels marinara for Stan and prosciutto e melone for Barb.
Back at their apartment-Barb had seen no reason to keep paying rent while she was in rehab and had sublet hers and moved into Stan’s place, extracting a promise that he would actually clean the place twice a week, a promise that he had more or less kept-Stan was brushing his teeth at the sink watching Barb undressing in the mirror. He marveled again at how an old goat like himself had managed to snag a lovely and intelligent woman 25 years his junior. ‘Must be my sparkling personality,’ he thought.
Barb was naked now, bending over to pick up the panties she had dropped, her tight little ass sticking straight up at him. Stan noted that something of his was sticking up as well. Barb seemed to be taking an awfully long time to pick up a pair of panties.
Stan spat out the toothpaste and rinsed his mouth, then hustled over to his assist his partner, running his hands gently over her ass, cupping the cheeks in his palms. “Need some help?” he asked.
Barb turned and drew Stan’s mouth towards her own, kissing him deeply. He was glad he had brushed well. That thing of his that had been sticking up was sticking up even more now. Barb broke off the kiss. “Stan do you remember that night when you handcuffed me to the bed?”
“You think I could possibly ever forget about that? Especially with what you did to me afterwards.”
“Oh, don’t worry, Stan, I learned my lesson and won’t do that again. I swear on a stack of Bibles. Or Yankees memorabilia, if you prefer. But it might be kind of fun if you tied me. As long as you let me go after, of course.”
Stan considered this. Since she’d gotten home from rehab, he’d treated her rather gingerly, afraid of causing her any more pain after all that she’d suffered. But now that she was bringing it up, suggesting it to him openly, he felt his reluctance waning as his excitement grew. “You sure you’re up for this, Barb?” he asked.
“Stan, don’t be a jackass. A hot woman is begging you to tie her to the bed and you have to think about it? What’s the matter with you?”
Stan didn’t know what was the matter with him. Maybe nothing, for he wasted no more time in picking up his handcuffs from the dresser where they lay next to his badge and gun. He spread Barb’s legs nice and wide, showing off her assets very nicely, and began attaching one of her slender ankles to one of the posts at the foot of the bed.
“That metal is cold, Goldman,” Barb protested. “Why don’t you be a gentleman and use something a bit softer. You’ve got a bunch of ratty old ties that should have been thrown out back in the Bush Administration, and I mean the first one.”
Stan shook his head. “Geez, you’re a picky one, Moore,” he muttered and went to the closet and came back with a couple of ties and the sashes from both of their bathrobes. “Will these do, Your Highness” he asked.
“Sure,” Barb replied. Stan, eager now to get down to business, quickly tied her ankles to the posts at the foot of the bed and attached Barb’s hands over her head to the slats on the headboard.
He paused for a minute to enjoy the sight spread out before him, the lovely breasts, taut belly, the delectable thighs and the jewel that lay in between them. He hoisted himself onto the bed, kneeling between Barb’s legs and began kissing her on the mouth, then moving down to nuzzle her neck. “That’s nice,” Barb sighed.
He continued his downward journey to her breasts, taking each nipple between his lips and stretching it, then licking a broad circle around each elongated nub in turn. Barb’s eyes were closed and she was breathing deeply, her chest rising and falling rhythmically. Stan continued slowly down, tracing the contours of Barb’s navel, sliding his body down until his head was at the level of her hips.
Softly, barely daring to touch her, he began licking her thighs, just brushing his tongue every now again against her labia, eliciting a soft moan every time he did so. He knew from experience that had her hands been free, she might have grabbed his hair and forced his tongue into contact with her most sensitive places, but she was powerless to do more than beg in a sultry voice, “Please, Stan.”
Stan held out for a while, continuing the slow build-up, but finally relenting and letting the tip of his tongue enter the cleft between her labia, licking slowly up and down, just brushing Barb’s labia then moving up to lick her clitoris. Barb was panting now, her legs pulling on the ties that held her ankles, her hips arching off the bed as much as her bound position permitted.
And then, teasingly, Stan pulled away, sitting up on the bed. Barb opened her eyes and glared at him. “What are you doing Goldman?”
“I was just wondering if I should go for a little jog around the neighborhood,” Stan said, a smirk on his face.
“Bastard!” Barb replied. “Since when do you jog?”
“You’re right, Moore, how silly of me!” Stan replied. “Now where was I?” If looks could kill, he’d be busting Moore for homicide right about now. “Oh, yeah, I remember now,” Stan continued, sliding back down between her legs.
And this time, he didn’t stop, lowering his head and licking up and down her slit, pressing the tip of his tongue against the shaft of her clitoris, feeling the muscles in her legs pulling hard against the restraints, hearing her moans and pleas and gasps of breath and, finally, the shouted release as the tension flowed out of her body and her hips collapsed on the bed.
After a moment, Barb opened her eyes, back in the world again. Stan grinned at her. “Should I ask how that was, Moore? Just to be gentlemanly and all?”
“Geez, Goldman, are you really that dense? Now untie me and let’s get some sleep. We have to do some legwork on this Berger case in the morning, right?”
“Whatever you say, boss,” Stan replied, leaning over to untie her wrists then kissing his way down to her feet to do the same to her ankles.
Barb ‘s pleasure for dinner turned out to be La Bella Italia, the little neighborhood place near the station where, months ago, they had sat talking for hours while trying to puzzle out the intricacies of the Bronx Crux case, ending up in bed in Barb’s apartment. Since then they’d been a couple; not always a happy one, but usually an interesting one.
They hadn’t been back there since that night, and Domenico, the owner, was delighted to see them. “It’s the two finest of New York’s finest!” he cried , jumping out from behind the bar to pump Stan’s hand vigorously and hug Barb perhaps a touch closer than was strictly necessary. “You are heroes for catching those horrible men who crucified those women.”
“I’m no hero, Domenico,” Stan protested. “It was mostly hard work by a whole bunch of dedicated people and a little bit of luck, which never hurts either.”
“But you saved this lady, like a knight of old!” Domenico cried. Stan blushed. Domenico turned to Barb, taking her hand in his and looking concerned, “And you are alright now, Detective Moore?” he asked.
“Yes, I’m OK now, thanks to some excellent doctors and therapists. I’m back at work keeping Stan on the straight and narrow.”
“What a horrible experience it must have been,” Domenico said. “To be on a cross, like Our Lord.” He looked heavenward, or at least at the ceiling of his restaurant. “And for a man of the cloth to do such a thing. It’s shameful.”
“We can never tell what evil lurks within the human heart, Domenico,” Barb replied.
He crossed himself, glancing up once again, then led them to a table. “I hope you will accept a bottle of wine as a small token of admiration for two such great detectives.”
“If it’s that Montepulciano you gave us last time, we’d be honored, right Barb?” Stan said.
Barb smiled and nodded. “Yes, that was wonderful.”
“I bring it right away. Are you working on another big case right now?”
Stan glanced at Barb. “We’re not sure.” Domenico looked puzzled. How could detectives not know what they were working on? “Long story and we’re hungry. What are your specials tonight?”
They ordered and were enjoying their wine, waiting for the first course to arrive. Stan took a sip and looked across at Barb, her face radiant in the soft light. “So, Detective Moore, let’s say the parents aren’t in denial or lying, what would possess a seemingly happy girl who had just started college to kill herself?”
Barb took a sip of her wine. “It’s hard to say. Women that age can be suggestible.”
“Even women older than that,” Stan said.
Barb glared at him before continuing. “Something she read on line might have made her curious. These kinds of things, tempting death, are intrinsically fascinating, as we know very well from the attention our case got. There’s often a copy-cat phenomenon in schools where one student commits suicide and others attempt it who might not have otherwise.”
Stan shrugged, “Yeah, maybe I can see some kind of morbid curiosity, but to actually hang yourself?”
“I’m sure most people wouldn’t do anything beyond vaguely thinking about it, but maybe she was a thrill seeker. It’s quite possible she was just experimenting and didn’t intend to die, but slipped up and there was no one around to save her. Or maybe there were people there and they decided not to. That’s what I’d like to know.”
“You think she wasn’t alone? Some kind of suicide club?” Stan asked.
“I don’t know,” Barb replied. “I suppose it’s possible. It’s hard to believe that she never talked about it with anyone, maybe a counselor at the college or someone on a web site or Facebook or in person .”
“I agree,” Stan nodded. “And let’s say someone goaded her into doing it, for whatever reason, and whether they were there or not, would that be a crime? Murder by peer pressure, I guess you could call it. Of course, this is assuming that anyone else was involved, which we don’t know.”
“I’m not a lawyer,” Barb replied. “I don’t even play one on TV. But I know that if we’re going to actually investigate this as a case we need to look at her phone and computer to see if there’s anything there.”
Stan sighed. “That’s going to be tough. The parents don’t want to let us have them and I don’t see probable cause to get a warrant so long as Charlie feels he has to rule it a suicide. We need to go talk to the DA’s first thing in the morning and see what they say. Right after we talk with the uniforms who found her.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Barb replied. Further conversation was interrupted as the waiter brought the first course, mussels marinara for Stan and prosciutto e melone for Barb.
***
Back at their apartment-Barb had seen no reason to keep paying rent while she was in rehab and had sublet hers and moved into Stan’s place, extracting a promise that he would actually clean the place twice a week, a promise that he had more or less kept-Stan was brushing his teeth at the sink watching Barb undressing in the mirror. He marveled again at how an old goat like himself had managed to snag a lovely and intelligent woman 25 years his junior. ‘Must be my sparkling personality,’ he thought.
Barb was naked now, bending over to pick up the panties she had dropped, her tight little ass sticking straight up at him. Stan noted that something of his was sticking up as well. Barb seemed to be taking an awfully long time to pick up a pair of panties.
Stan spat out the toothpaste and rinsed his mouth, then hustled over to his assist his partner, running his hands gently over her ass, cupping the cheeks in his palms. “Need some help?” he asked.
Barb turned and drew Stan’s mouth towards her own, kissing him deeply. He was glad he had brushed well. That thing of his that had been sticking up was sticking up even more now. Barb broke off the kiss. “Stan do you remember that night when you handcuffed me to the bed?”
“You think I could possibly ever forget about that? Especially with what you did to me afterwards.”
“Oh, don’t worry, Stan, I learned my lesson and won’t do that again. I swear on a stack of Bibles. Or Yankees memorabilia, if you prefer. But it might be kind of fun if you tied me. As long as you let me go after, of course.”
Stan considered this. Since she’d gotten home from rehab, he’d treated her rather gingerly, afraid of causing her any more pain after all that she’d suffered. But now that she was bringing it up, suggesting it to him openly, he felt his reluctance waning as his excitement grew. “You sure you’re up for this, Barb?” he asked.
“Stan, don’t be a jackass. A hot woman is begging you to tie her to the bed and you have to think about it? What’s the matter with you?”
Stan didn’t know what was the matter with him. Maybe nothing, for he wasted no more time in picking up his handcuffs from the dresser where they lay next to his badge and gun. He spread Barb’s legs nice and wide, showing off her assets very nicely, and began attaching one of her slender ankles to one of the posts at the foot of the bed.
“That metal is cold, Goldman,” Barb protested. “Why don’t you be a gentleman and use something a bit softer. You’ve got a bunch of ratty old ties that should have been thrown out back in the Bush Administration, and I mean the first one.”
Stan shook his head. “Geez, you’re a picky one, Moore,” he muttered and went to the closet and came back with a couple of ties and the sashes from both of their bathrobes. “Will these do, Your Highness” he asked.
“Sure,” Barb replied. Stan, eager now to get down to business, quickly tied her ankles to the posts at the foot of the bed and attached Barb’s hands over her head to the slats on the headboard.
He paused for a minute to enjoy the sight spread out before him, the lovely breasts, taut belly, the delectable thighs and the jewel that lay in between them. He hoisted himself onto the bed, kneeling between Barb’s legs and began kissing her on the mouth, then moving down to nuzzle her neck. “That’s nice,” Barb sighed.
He continued his downward journey to her breasts, taking each nipple between his lips and stretching it, then licking a broad circle around each elongated nub in turn. Barb’s eyes were closed and she was breathing deeply, her chest rising and falling rhythmically. Stan continued slowly down, tracing the contours of Barb’s navel, sliding his body down until his head was at the level of her hips.
Softly, barely daring to touch her, he began licking her thighs, just brushing his tongue every now again against her labia, eliciting a soft moan every time he did so. He knew from experience that had her hands been free, she might have grabbed his hair and forced his tongue into contact with her most sensitive places, but she was powerless to do more than beg in a sultry voice, “Please, Stan.”
Stan held out for a while, continuing the slow build-up, but finally relenting and letting the tip of his tongue enter the cleft between her labia, licking slowly up and down, just brushing Barb’s labia then moving up to lick her clitoris. Barb was panting now, her legs pulling on the ties that held her ankles, her hips arching off the bed as much as her bound position permitted.
And then, teasingly, Stan pulled away, sitting up on the bed. Barb opened her eyes and glared at him. “What are you doing Goldman?”
“I was just wondering if I should go for a little jog around the neighborhood,” Stan said, a smirk on his face.
“Bastard!” Barb replied. “Since when do you jog?”
“You’re right, Moore, how silly of me!” Stan replied. “Now where was I?” If looks could kill, he’d be busting Moore for homicide right about now. “Oh, yeah, I remember now,” Stan continued, sliding back down between her legs.
And this time, he didn’t stop, lowering his head and licking up and down her slit, pressing the tip of his tongue against the shaft of her clitoris, feeling the muscles in her legs pulling hard against the restraints, hearing her moans and pleas and gasps of breath and, finally, the shouted release as the tension flowed out of her body and her hips collapsed on the bed.
After a moment, Barb opened her eyes, back in the world again. Stan grinned at her. “Should I ask how that was, Moore? Just to be gentlemanly and all?”
“Geez, Goldman, are you really that dense? Now untie me and let’s get some sleep. We have to do some legwork on this Berger case in the morning, right?”
“Whatever you say, boss,” Stan replied, leaning over to untie her wrists then kissing his way down to her feet to do the same to her ankles.
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Not from the looks of you ... calling central casting!
Domenico apparently doesn't keep up on the news ...
Not funny!
Miracles do happen ...
Idiot!
Now, THAT is an invitation!
Hot!
He paused for a minute to enjoy the sight spread out before him, the lovely breasts, taut belly, the delectable thighs and the jewel that lay in between them. He hoisted himself onto the bed, kneeling between Barb’s legs and began kissing her on the mouth, then moving down to nuzzle her neck. “That’s nice,” Barb sighed.
Jeeez!
You bastard!
Fuckin' idiot!
windar
Teller of Tales
I thought that's where I came from. Sorry no refunds or exchanges. Next time read the small print.
I guess not. He's busy running a restaurant
And about time too!
You're the one tied up and you're in no position to be giving any whacks right now.You bastard!
I try to be nice and what does it get me?
hongzu117
Magistrate
windar
Teller of Tales
On CF? Not so much. Maybe Tree would like to commentGood and evil will always be rewarded.
By the way, all credit for the illustrations goes to Madiosi and Barb. And for those wondering, yes, Barb will be contributing quite a few chapters, starting in a little bit. This will be a fairly long story because Detective Goldman isn't that smart, so it takes him a while to solve things and Detective Moore keeps distracting him.
hongzu117
Magistrate
No，on Barb，aren't you "succeeded in revenging."?On CF? Not so much. Maybe Tree would like to comment
By the way, all credit for the illustrations goes to Madiosi and Barb. And for those wondering, yes, Barb will be contributing quite a few chapters, starting in a little bit. This will be a fairly long story because Detective Goldman isn't that smart, so it takes him a while to solve things and Detective Moore keeps distracting him.
By the way，your speech made me worried that our lady would be rescued again，this time we have only forty-eight seconds..
windar
Teller of Tales
I saw it in a movie once and, no, I don't remember the title. I think the actress later appeared on 60 Minutes.Holy Shit, Goldman! Where’d you learn to do THAT!!!!
I saw it in a movie once and, no, I don't remember the title. I think the actress later appeared on 60 Minutes.
She had an orgasm that lasted that long?
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
This will be a fairly long story because Detective Goldman isn't that smart, so it takes him a while to solve things and Detective Moore keeps distracting him.
Focus on your target, Sherlock!
You could say that!
I have an anatomy book in the study, I'll look it up...
Might it have been your toothbrush?
windar
Teller of Tales
5.
“Wake up, lazybones,” Stan cooed as he edged his index finger past his partner’s very attractive breasts to poke her gently in the ribs.
“Mmm,” Barb moaned.
“No, seriously,” Stan insisted, poking her a bit harder. “Those uniforms go on at 7 and we want to catch them before they hit the streets.”
“What time is it?” Barb groaned, burying her head in her pillow.
“5:15. Come on sweet cheeks, rise and shine,” he said, slapping his palm down onto her bum hard enough to make a healthy “Smack!”
Barb’s head jerked up from her pillow. She glared at Stan, “Shit! That hurt!”
This time he gently stroked the cheeks he had slapped, “Poor baby. Now let’s get a move on.”
“You’re a real asshole, Goldman!” Barb spat, but, despite her protest, she threw off the covers and was on her way to the shower. Stan stared at her tight little ass moving across their bedroom for a moment before getting up to join her. The happy couple managed to restrain themselves from any further monkey business, bathing and dressing quickly. They had enough time to grab some coffee and a quick breakfast so that they were out the door and at the precinct house to meet Tamika Brown and Steve Connors, the two officers who had responded to the 911 call at the Berger residence, as they arrived for their shift.
‘God, the coffee here is even worse than ours’, Stan thought as he sipped just enough to be sociable. “It’s all in the report, Detectives,” Brown, a compact African-American woman around 40 years of age said, looking a bit exasperated at being asked to go over the details of what was, in her opinion, a straight up suicide, not a matter about which detectives should be harassing her.
“The father found her just before 7 in the morning. He called 911. The dispatcher sent out a call; we were the closest car to the scene, so we responded. The mother let us in and we went straight upstairs to the attic and found her hanging. She’d clearly been dead for a while. The body was cold. We called the ME’s office.”
Stan stared at the pictures taken by the crime scene unit of the attic where Amanda had been found, which her parents had not allowed him and Barb to look at in person. It was high ceilinged in the center, clearly high enough to accommodate a short rope that would leave someone of Amanda’s height with her feet unable to touch the floor. The roof beams looked quite sturdy, more than sufficient to hold her weight. The chair on which the young woman had presumably stood in the last moments of her life lay on its side, slightly behind where she had hung. Likely she had kicked at it in her death throes.
The rest of the room was rather neat-some articles of unused furniture, a few boxes of old clothes and books. Nothing there appeared disturbed or out of the ordinary except the naked young woman hanging from a rope.
“Have you ever been called to a suicide?” Barb asked, looking at Connors.
“Yeah, sure,” Connors responded. He was taller and thinner than Brown and somewhat younger. Stan wondered what the thinking by their supervisor had been in pairing them as partners, though it seemed they had a good rapport.
“Any hangings?” Stan asked.
“Sure,” Connors replied. “It’s a fairly common method. Much cleaner than blowing your brains out or jumping from a roof.” Stan had to admit that young Amanda had been more pleasant to look at on Yang’s dissecting table than she would have been with a large hole in her skull.
“What about you, Officer Brown?” Stan asked.
“Yeah, I’ve been called to some. I’ve been on the Force for close to 15 years now. I couldn’t say how many, but probably a good few dozen.”
“Were any of the deceased found naked?” Barb asked.
Brown looked like she was thinking. “With drug overdoses, that’s pretty common. With hangings, this is probably the first naked victim for me. But that doesn’t mean it never happens.”
Barb looked at Connors. “Yeah, I can’t recall any of the other hangings being naked,” he added. “But none of them were as nice looking as this one either, I would guess.”
“So you think she wanted to exhibit her attractiveness?” Barb asked. “Even though the people most likely to find her were her parents?”
The two officers looked at each other. “If you’re asking me to speculate why she was naked, Detective Moore, I haven’t a friggin’ clue,” Brown said. “For that matter I have no idea why a nice looking girl like that with rich parents with a nice house in Riverdale would have killed herself. Back when I was growing up in Bed-Stuy, I would have killed to have had half what she had.” Brown shook her head as she spoke, clearly at a loss to understand the human race.
“How did the parents seem?” Stan asked.
“In shock,” Connors replied. “Just like any parent would be. I got two kids detectives, younger than her, but I couldn’t even imagine how I’d be if I’d found one of them hanging like that. It’s every parent’s nightmare.”
Stan thought about his two children, grown now, his daughter a nurse like her mother had been, living near Boston, his son, not a cop like his father, but, after some difficult times in his teenage years, working as a chef upstate. He imagined himself coming home from a shift years ago and finding one of them dead by their own hand. He shuddered and wondered how he would have coped with a tragedy like that.
“But there’s nothing you saw at the scene that was unusual, that rang any bells?” Stan prodded.
“I’m not sure what you mean, Detective Goldman,“ Officer Brown replied. “It looked like a suicide-sad and tragic, but no crime. There were no signs of forced entry to the house and I really don’t think the parents overpowered her, stripped her naked and hung her in their own attic. Sorry, I’ve seen some things in my time, but I don’t buy that.” She looked quite emphatic as she spoke.
“We’re not suggesting that at all,” Barb said. “We’re just looking into whether someone might have goaded her to kill herself. It’s just so odd that someone with all that going for them would have killed themselves without any warning or note that we’ve been able to find. But we’re still early, of course. We’re hoping we’ll find something that will help it to all make sense.”
“Would goading someone to kill themselves even be a crime?” Connors asked. “Of course, it’s a horrible thing to do, but lots of very bad things aren’t crimes.”
“We’re about to go talk to the DA’s and find out,” Stan said, rising from the table. “Thank you for your time, Officers. You’ve been very helpful. If you think of anything else, even something trivial, give us a ring, OK?”
“Certainly, Detective,” Brown replied. “I wish you luck. We all want to understand why such things happen.”
“I know you do, Officer Brown,” Barb said, in her most soothing voice. “We’ll keep you informed of anything we find.”
“Wake up, lazybones,” Stan cooed as he edged his index finger past his partner’s very attractive breasts to poke her gently in the ribs.
“Mmm,” Barb moaned.
“No, seriously,” Stan insisted, poking her a bit harder. “Those uniforms go on at 7 and we want to catch them before they hit the streets.”
“What time is it?” Barb groaned, burying her head in her pillow.
“5:15. Come on sweet cheeks, rise and shine,” he said, slapping his palm down onto her bum hard enough to make a healthy “Smack!”
Barb’s head jerked up from her pillow. She glared at Stan, “Shit! That hurt!”
This time he gently stroked the cheeks he had slapped, “Poor baby. Now let’s get a move on.”
“You’re a real asshole, Goldman!” Barb spat, but, despite her protest, she threw off the covers and was on her way to the shower. Stan stared at her tight little ass moving across their bedroom for a moment before getting up to join her. The happy couple managed to restrain themselves from any further monkey business, bathing and dressing quickly. They had enough time to grab some coffee and a quick breakfast so that they were out the door and at the precinct house to meet Tamika Brown and Steve Connors, the two officers who had responded to the 911 call at the Berger residence, as they arrived for their shift.
‘God, the coffee here is even worse than ours’, Stan thought as he sipped just enough to be sociable. “It’s all in the report, Detectives,” Brown, a compact African-American woman around 40 years of age said, looking a bit exasperated at being asked to go over the details of what was, in her opinion, a straight up suicide, not a matter about which detectives should be harassing her.
“The father found her just before 7 in the morning. He called 911. The dispatcher sent out a call; we were the closest car to the scene, so we responded. The mother let us in and we went straight upstairs to the attic and found her hanging. She’d clearly been dead for a while. The body was cold. We called the ME’s office.”
Stan stared at the pictures taken by the crime scene unit of the attic where Amanda had been found, which her parents had not allowed him and Barb to look at in person. It was high ceilinged in the center, clearly high enough to accommodate a short rope that would leave someone of Amanda’s height with her feet unable to touch the floor. The roof beams looked quite sturdy, more than sufficient to hold her weight. The chair on which the young woman had presumably stood in the last moments of her life lay on its side, slightly behind where she had hung. Likely she had kicked at it in her death throes.
The rest of the room was rather neat-some articles of unused furniture, a few boxes of old clothes and books. Nothing there appeared disturbed or out of the ordinary except the naked young woman hanging from a rope.
“Have you ever been called to a suicide?” Barb asked, looking at Connors.
“Yeah, sure,” Connors responded. He was taller and thinner than Brown and somewhat younger. Stan wondered what the thinking by their supervisor had been in pairing them as partners, though it seemed they had a good rapport.
“Any hangings?” Stan asked.
“Sure,” Connors replied. “It’s a fairly common method. Much cleaner than blowing your brains out or jumping from a roof.” Stan had to admit that young Amanda had been more pleasant to look at on Yang’s dissecting table than she would have been with a large hole in her skull.
“What about you, Officer Brown?” Stan asked.
“Yeah, I’ve been called to some. I’ve been on the Force for close to 15 years now. I couldn’t say how many, but probably a good few dozen.”
“Were any of the deceased found naked?” Barb asked.
Brown looked like she was thinking. “With drug overdoses, that’s pretty common. With hangings, this is probably the first naked victim for me. But that doesn’t mean it never happens.”
Barb looked at Connors. “Yeah, I can’t recall any of the other hangings being naked,” he added. “But none of them were as nice looking as this one either, I would guess.”
“So you think she wanted to exhibit her attractiveness?” Barb asked. “Even though the people most likely to find her were her parents?”
The two officers looked at each other. “If you’re asking me to speculate why she was naked, Detective Moore, I haven’t a friggin’ clue,” Brown said. “For that matter I have no idea why a nice looking girl like that with rich parents with a nice house in Riverdale would have killed herself. Back when I was growing up in Bed-Stuy, I would have killed to have had half what she had.” Brown shook her head as she spoke, clearly at a loss to understand the human race.
“How did the parents seem?” Stan asked.
“In shock,” Connors replied. “Just like any parent would be. I got two kids detectives, younger than her, but I couldn’t even imagine how I’d be if I’d found one of them hanging like that. It’s every parent’s nightmare.”
Stan thought about his two children, grown now, his daughter a nurse like her mother had been, living near Boston, his son, not a cop like his father, but, after some difficult times in his teenage years, working as a chef upstate. He imagined himself coming home from a shift years ago and finding one of them dead by their own hand. He shuddered and wondered how he would have coped with a tragedy like that.
“But there’s nothing you saw at the scene that was unusual, that rang any bells?” Stan prodded.
“I’m not sure what you mean, Detective Goldman,“ Officer Brown replied. “It looked like a suicide-sad and tragic, but no crime. There were no signs of forced entry to the house and I really don’t think the parents overpowered her, stripped her naked and hung her in their own attic. Sorry, I’ve seen some things in my time, but I don’t buy that.” She looked quite emphatic as she spoke.
“We’re not suggesting that at all,” Barb said. “We’re just looking into whether someone might have goaded her to kill herself. It’s just so odd that someone with all that going for them would have killed themselves without any warning or note that we’ve been able to find. But we’re still early, of course. We’re hoping we’ll find something that will help it to all make sense.”
“Would goading someone to kill themselves even be a crime?” Connors asked. “Of course, it’s a horrible thing to do, but lots of very bad things aren’t crimes.”
“We’re about to go talk to the DA’s and find out,” Stan said, rising from the table. “Thank you for your time, Officers. You’ve been very helpful. If you think of anything else, even something trivial, give us a ring, OK?”
“Certainly, Detective,” Brown replied. “I wish you luck. We all want to understand why such things happen.”
“I know you do, Officer Brown,” Barb said, in her most soothing voice. “We’ll keep you informed of anything we find.”
“Wake up, lazybones,” Stan cooed as he edged his index finger past his partner’s very attractive breasts to poke her gently in the ribs.
Go away, Goldman!
Seeet cheeks? I hate that!
owwwwe!!!
You go. I want to stay here and sleep. And don’t call me “baby”
hongzu117
Magistrate
Coffee is already here，so where is the doughnut?
My love、my girl、honey、sugar、sweetheart、lamb、darling……Which one do you want to choose？You go. I want to stay here and sleep. And don’t call me “baby”
Or, you want to hear some……