Murder on West 50th street.

Chapter 1: John Doe. (Part 2)

I was soon in front of Applebee's; which was surrounded by yellow CSI tape. I got off my Harley Davidson and made my way to the crime scene. I don't usually ride my bike but it's easier to weave my way through traffic lanes with it rather than with a car. I walked over to one of the investigators.

"What happened?"I asked, my voice cold and my face void of any emotion. That's the way it works; if you show emotion while on a case, you are considered weak and not capable of keeping yourself together.

"We got an anonymous call this morning at 6:30. Apparently, there was a bag that had been deposited here at, roughly, midnight and hadn't been touched after being dropped off by a young man."

"Was the caller able to identify the suspect?"

"Sadly, no. It was too dark for the witness to see anything other than a bit of black hair and guess the age of the suspect, which is about 25 years old."

"Were there any clues in the perimeter that could give us a lead?" He shook his head. "Nothing?" I said incredulously.

"No Miss Cortez, nothing."

"Dios ayúdame2." I muttered under my breath.

I thanked the investigator and started searching the perimeter for anything that the team that came by earlier may have missed. I noticed that there was a subway (not the food shop) just around the corner. The timetable indicated that at 12:04 pm, the train, 'New Haven' left this station to go to West 79th street, a good way up the island. "That could have been the culprit's way of escaping the crime scene!" I thought. As I walked back to the crowd of onlookers that had gathered around the crime scene, a man caught my eye. Tall, long and dark nylon hair that was hidden underneath a baseball cap, he wore a long black dishevelled coat, black gloves and dark pants. He contrasted greatly from the group who were wearing light summer clothing. As he turned, slinking away, I noticed the tape near his ear holding his false beard to his face. He looked around him suspiciously, searching for a way out of the crowd of nosey tourists. Furtively glancing at me one last time, he picked up a black bag, set it under his arm and bolted. That's all it took for me to give chase. He jumped into a black van and sped off, down West 46th street. I got to my bike and raced after him, gaining good ground, weaving through the early morning traffic. My heart was thumping loudly in my chest and I could feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins with every squeeze of the handle. He made a right turn down 5th avenue then took a screeching sharp left turn down East 42nd street. The car stopped abruptly in the middle of the street, causing a few cars to collide into each other. He leapt out of the vehicle still holding the black bag tightly and ran towards the entrance of Grand Central station. Crashing through the doors, he dropped the bag and after noticing that I was hot on his tail, he sprinted away through the main hall. I scooped up the bag and ran straight into a group of people, tripping over a foot and falling head long onto the floor, catching a last glimpse of the man I was after heading out the back door.

"I'm so sorry!" Exclaimed the woman that had tripped me. She looked to be in her fifties. She had blond hair that was greying a bit at the roots, smile wrinkles around her eyes and an apologetic look on her face. I looked around me and, sure enough, the mysterious man had disappeared. I LET HIM GET AWAY!!! I let out a sigh of frustration before focusing my attention on the anxious woman in front of me.

I fumed at the lady that had tripped me while she apologised profusely, checking my body for injuries. She was obviously not from around here. A tourist. She paled a bit when she saw the badge on my belt loop but continued apologising. I shrugged her off saying "That's okay Ma'am."

"Enjoy New-York." I said, half sarcastically.

I unzipped the bag and took a look inside, curiosity getting the better of me. There was nothing important, just a few papers, business cards and a wallet. Opening the wallet, I found the police ID card of officer James Walters. My best friend. My heart sank and I decided to take the bag back to the precinct where it would undergo a more thorough examination.

2 = "Godhelp me."    

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Marie