Misery

Misery
Started: Saturday, August 12, 2006

Prologue


Jonathon walked up his drive way, and smiled at his neighbor Ronda, an elderly lady of 85 who could always be caught outside in her front garden. She smiled back, and kept on digging. Jonathon stuck his key into his door, but it was already open. He frowned. Something was wrong, and that's when Jon knew.

He threw his keys down on the en-table and walked into the kitchen. He could have swore that he had locked the door. Nothing in the kitchen looked tampered with, and he moved on to his bed room.

The hooded man lunged at him. Jonathon dived to the left, but the man predicted that and grabbed his leg. Before Jon could grab his sharp edged letter opener, he was strung up with a gun pointed at his temple.

"I won't use this gun, don't you worry. I have more practical uses for you," the man said, and pulled his hood back.

Jon gasped at the face he knew so well. "But why?"

"Don't ask stupid questions, Jonathon. You know me too well. Lets just say I have been waiting for this for so long, its not even funny. I've faked too many smiles, attended too many unwanted anniversaries. like i said, Its not funny anymore."

"No its not," Jon said, staring down at the quilt his wife had made before she died. Was there some way he could make it known who had killed him, if he was killed? (what was he thinking? there was no "if".)

No, its over, there is no way out of this. I had it coming, he thought. He stared back at the face looming over him. There was no mistaking who it was. No one would suspect, this man would be the last person people looked to.

Jon closed his eyes and let the reality of the moment wash over him. The horror. No, there was a better word: the misery.

Part one

"So, what happened here?" Cindy Daniels stared at the dead body that spilled across the bed.

"A basic case with an unusual twist to it." Rick returned his glance to the dresser.

"Yeah, I can see the twist part. Actually two twists. One, his body was mutilated beyond recognition, and two, some one wrapped a diamond necklace around his neck. Maybe choked him with it. You got the finger prints yet?"

"No, they're processing them now. Jonathon Wease had a lot of close friend, always had a lot of people over at his house. He used to be a fireman-"

"He lives in a house like this of a fireman's pension?"

"No, hes got some kind of family money he inherited. Hes owns a few big general stores down in the south."

Cindy nodded. "So that's all we have got? A couple clues and a dead body?"

"That's just how some murders work."

"Who's gonna be on the investigation? I mean after the team finishes, who's gonna be the main detective?"

"I don't know why you ask. No one wants a case like this. No sane person that is."

"Well, I want it."

"No you don't. Not a case that is probably nothing more then a robbery that got out of hand. Its reported that a precious stone photo holder was stolen. His mother told me that Jonathon always kept it on his dresser with a picture with his wife on it. worth a lot of money."

"But what about all the crap the murder did to Jon?"

"You mean why does the body look like it went through a meat grinder?"

"Yeah."

Rick shook his head. "Maybe some one didn't take his depression medicine."

"Why do you always have a lame excuse for every thing?"

"Maybe because I don't like to think that Jonathon Wease inspired revenge this extreme," Rick said, and his voice was soft.

"You mean you don't want to face the reality of the case?"

"I said no such thing."

"Some times it surprises me you have the job you do."

"Well, when I was in college I just wanted to find the killers, you know deliver justice."

Cindy laughed. "There are better ways you know."

"I didn't really know the job I was getting into. I never thought I would become so hardened to death. So used to the bodies lying around, dead, people I would never know."

"Okay, Wrap up your emotional speech, because here comes the director."

Cindy examined her schedule. She was on the Jonathon Wease case. Yes!! she thought.

These were the cases she lived for. Because, although others thought the murder to be a spur of the moment thing, Cindy saw it as an action some one had planned for years. If the fingerprints came out with no results, her thoughts would be confirmed.

The fact that she liked mysteries was only part of the reason she was glad to have this case: another reason was that if she was not preoccupied with an important case then she might have to work with Gary on evidence duty (something she dreaded entirely, but would have to do sooner or later.

She left the SOTC (scene of the crime), and drove back to her head quarters. She would first have to write her report on the murder, including listing all witnesses who may have known anything.

The director stopped her in the hall way. "I here your on the new murder case."

"Yeah. I asked Rick if he was on it. He wasn't but I
was."

"Its gonna be a hard case for you, I am warning you. These cases always are."

"I'm okay with it," Cindy said, and the director shook his head and moved on.

Cindy looked up every thing she could find on Jonathon Wease. He was an ex fireman, as Rick had said, And indeed had family money at hand for just about all the luxuries he could want. The day he was killed he had just come back from a round of golf at the country club. Ronda Dupree saw him go into the house, said he even waved at her. But she had seen no previous entrances. She said as far as she knew the house had been empty.

She gave her report to Rick, who by then had returned from the SOTC. "Well, what am I supposed to say. I'm telling you that you probably don't want this case. For your own good. I mean these kind of cases aren't that easy.'

"Quit acting like you know all about 'these kind of case', and I don't."

"You used to be a crime reporter, and crime reporters always make risky assumptions."

"What ever Rick. I'm giving my report to the director."

"You'll regret it."

"Uh uh, sure I will. You keep thinking that."

Cindy turned in her report and left for her office. She closed the door behind her, and sat at her computer. Rick had emailed her the finger prints found at the SOTC. He said there weren't many, just a few from the round of golf he had played before he died. No strong ones. Nothing that could be a clue in the murder.

Cindy nodded as she read it, "Interesting," she thought. "No fingerprints of any interest were found on Jonathon's body. Somethings going on, and I know it." She emailed him back and said "Are those affirmed as the standard fingerprint examination, or are you just just guessing?"

At home that night she looked up who had been with him at the country club. She found it odd to see that Rick had been at the same golf course as Jon had, although Rick had said nothing about it.

She called Rick.

"Hello, Rick here."

"Hey, its Cindy. I just found out that you and Jonathon Wease were on the same country club, at the same time of day. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Well, I actually didn't know that. Its a big golf course, OK. Its not like I knew every one who plays golf," Rick said.

"I just thought it was suspicious."

"You don't have to think that now that you know."

"I guess not, but I just wondered why you didn't find that out. Did you know Jonathon?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Just asking."

The next day at work she told the director about how Rick had been at the same country club the day Jonathan died. He nodded, but did not see it as anything major. "Don't go pointing fingers Cindy."

That day she finished her report on the Jonathon Wease case. She drudged through it, but she knew there were better leads to pursue. 'I just have to find them," she thought.

She took her lunch break and went home. She arrived at her house, and as she got out of her car, a strong hand pushed her back in. Cindy screamed, but the man had his other hand over her mouth. He brought out a gun.

"Shut up or I'll have to kill you." His voice was muffled by the hood covering most of his face."I'm gonna drive you some where and your not gonna make a sound as were driving, or when we get there."

Cindy cowered in her seat, having no doubt that this man would not hesitate to shoot. He released his hand from her mouth, but she was careful to breath out slowly when he did (lest he hear the raspy fear that came out of her mouth.)

Though it was a cool December, Cindy was hot. her forehead was covered with sweat. Who was this man that was so oddly formula?

The man drove her to a house that looked like hers, but just a bit bigger. "Get out, he whispered into her ear, "and pretend like you want to be here or I'll take you into the house and shoot you up. Got it?"

Cindy nodded. He released his grip and got out of the car. She followed. When they were in the house, he put her into a nearby chair