Checkmate

Rook to Queen

James typed furiously into his computer. Diana Fisher, the second murder victim, was a widowed 44 year old Petty Officer working as a recruiter for young men and women in the DC area. Her husband Gary had died in a plane crash 5 months prior to her death. He left her with a 17 year old stepdaughter Stacey. Bank records showed no unusual withdrawals or deposits from her personal account. She had no boyfriend. Joseph sat quietly at his desk searching through the cell phone records James had found. He looked to be having no luck either.

James had a thought. Pulling up all records concerning Stacey Fisher, he found that she had been left a large sum of money in her father’s will. Diana was in control of the money until Stacey turned 18. This is too easy, James thought. “Sir,” he called. Joseph stood up and stared at the records James had put up on the screen. “Let’s bring her in. See if we can get a confession.”

A large sum of the money left to Stacey had been withdrawn in Diana’s name, 6 hours after her estimated time of death.

Clara sat with her arms crossed over her chest. Her carefully plucked eyebrows formed angry lines on her forehead. She didn’t like being kicked out of Samantha’s lab. Just then Lucas walked into autopsy and startled her. “What’s wrong Clara? Do I need to go beat someone up?” he asked, looking as though he would thoroughly enjoy that. “No, I just need a hug,” she said matter-of-factly, lifting up her arms expectantly. Lucas was only too grateful to oblige. He picked her up and twirled her around in a bone-crushing hug that left her giggling and adjusting her hair so that if fell evenly around her shoulders.

“Back to work now.” Clicking her heels she made her way to the table where Diana Fisher lay. Clara had already reviewed her autopsy notes for all three bodies and was done with the Capris sisters.  All were straightforward. Michael Hayes drank more than he should, but nothing major or helpful. Quincy Ford needed a trip to the dentist. Diana Fisher was in impeccable health and would have lived a full life if it hadn’t been for the Capris. She shot Cecilia a hateful glare. “Why would you do such mean things? Mr. Quincy here has a three-year-old daughter who is going to grow up without a father. I’m glad you got shot.” Lucas watched Clara scold the bodies with mild amusement on his face, but he was getting used to this.

She was wearing a tight pink shirt and a long white skirt. Her bow sat perched on the top of her head and bounced with every step she took. Lucas leered at her in that obnoxious way that only men can, practically undressing her with his eyes. Clara noticed his attentive stare and gave him a quirky smile, turning slowly and walking out of autopsy, giving him plenty of time to admire her from behind.