The Detective and the Officer:
After several failed attempts to reach Mr. Moore’s cell phone, his daughter calls the police to go to his house for a welfare check. He has been working on a high profile case involving a member of the mob. His daughter, Lisa, did not know the details of the case, only that it was a dangerous one. She is currently out of the country, with a student exchange program, for Stanford University. Otherwise, she would go on her own to check on him.
Officer Davis arrives at the house. The time is 11:30 am. He finds the home secure. No signs of forced entry. He knocks several times on the front door. Nothing. He then tries the back. Nothing. He starts looking in the windows to see if there is anything out of the ordinary. Finally, he sees what looks like a puddle of water on the floor. There is glass scattered around. He squeezes his eyes as close to the edge of the window frame as possible, to see if there is anything else on the floor. There is. He is finally able to see the bottom of a shoe.
He busts open the door, and with his gun drawn from its holster, he cautiously moves towards the figure on the ground. There, laying in the puddle, is Mr. Moore. A gun lays next to his body. A visible bullet hole to the head, a cavern of blood and brain matter. The glass and liquid on the floor, once was a bottle of wine.
Officer Davis calls in a detective to the scene. Meanwhile, the officer notifies the daughter. Detective Peirce arrives within the next hour. The officer assists the detective with the scene.
The detective, with blue latex gloves on, picks up the weapon that is laying next to the body. “Officer Davis, please take notes. The weapon is a Glock 26 9mm. It has been recently fired. The victim has a single gunshot to the head. There is no evidence of forced entry.”
Sitting on the counter is an answering machine. The message light is continuously flashing. Next to the machine sits a note. It reads, 4 words, “tell Lisa I’m sorry”. The detective hits play on the machine. While holding the note, he listens.
First message: Time: 9:56 pm. “Moore, if you know what’s good for you, you will make yourself disappear. Your daughter is very beautiful. Paris suits her well. Disappear before the morning or else we will be paying you and her a visit.”
Second message: Time: 10:06 pm. “Hey dad, it’s me. I’ve been up all night studying for finals with some friends. I’ve been trying to reach you. I haven’t heard from you in a few days. I wanted to make sure you aren’t working too hard. Give me a call when you can.”
“Despite the threat, I don’t see any foul play. Plus, he left a note. I believe this is a suicide note”, says the detective.
“Maybe he committed suicide to keep his daughter from getting hurt by these mobsters. Maybe that was his answer to disappearing”, Officer Davis states.
After a day of collecting evidence, Mr. Moore’s death was ruled a suicide.
Mr. Moore:
After arriving home from dinner and a quick trip to the liquor store, Mr. Moore sets his new bottle of white wine on the kitchen island. He remembers that Lisa had left him a message yesterday to give her a call. However, with the time difference, it would be close to 5 am in Paris. He writes himself a reminder to call Lisa in the morning and tell her he is sorry for taking so long to return her call. Then, he settles in his oversized, brown leather chair while watching news from the days’ stock reports that he recorded on his DVR. With the tv on mute, he starts going over some paperwork from the case he is working on. He is trying to get mobster Vinnie Moretti convicted of murder. A guy that used to be his driver, turned against Vinnie, taking information to the police. The driver was found floating in a river up state.
He stares at the clock. The time is 8:05. Suddenly he is startled out of his deep thought by the sound of glass breaking. Not knowing what the sound could be, he reached to his left and pulled his pistol from a decorative box on the end table.
He lifts his pistol to the air and cautiously walks towards the kitchen where the sound originated. As he walks through the kitchen door he sees his cat, Mr. Petey, sitting on the counter where the wine bottle used to be. Not realizing the wine bottle is gone, he keeps his attention towards the back, glass door through the next doorway to his right. Without seeing, he slips on the white wine that is running along the grout lines of the floor. His feet move out from under him as though he is kicked with force.
A natural reflex takes over. He grips with his hand as if he is grabbing something to break his fall. The thing he grips, is the trigger of the gun. With a powerful motion the bullet flees the gun. Its angle is upright. It hits a metal sculpture hanging on the wall in front of him, ricocheting off the large steel, but hollow abstract art piece. Before Mr. Moore ever hits the floor, the bullet with brutal, downward force, hits him in the forehead.
This is my entry for the Constrained Writing Contest.
Writing Credit - @foragingquietude