Undercover Babe

01- blood bath

LIFE WAS RUTHLESS. As Angeliki Callas' dead body lay in a pool of her own blood, life seemed to continue as normal. Morning joggers passed by oblivious to the tragedy that occurred, whilst dogs jumped joyfully on little puddles of snow. Homicide detective Maysa Asker watched as the patrol police officers began to leave the scene. Their job was done, and hers was about to begin.

Maysa clutched her coffee closer to her chest, begging for warmth. The victim was left dead for more than 8 hours, before witness Franco Agne, found her. She recalled the picture she'd seen of the victim; it was her sitting on a bed, staring into space. Written across in red was the word "Angel". When the NYPD first received it last night, the intelligence unit raced to trace the identity of the woman. Now, as they examined the scene the picture served to be a sinister warning for what was to come next.

Her eyes assessed the bodies huddled together near the entrance. They were silent, mirroring each other's cold shrugs as the patrol officers spoke to them. They moved as though one; expressionless and unaffected. Almost a reflection of the chilly December air. In her experience, humans could cope with death in the weirdest of ways. But for them? They didn't care. A short blonde one locked eyes with Maysa but soon looked away to her wrists, her shoulders slumped. She'd have to ask Detective Artino about them.

Maysa chugged down the last of her coffee, then crumpled the paper cup and threw it in a nearby bin. She wore three layers of latex gloves, preparing to examine the crime scene. She jogged up the stairs, taking them two at a time. A foul smell lingered in the air as she got closer. Once at the scene, she took in her surroundings. The victim's apartment was small, typical of those found in the busy city of Manhattan, and was decorated with the bare necessities. Maysa's eyes were fixed on the door. There were scratch marks near the lock, already labeled with a bright yellow card by the CSI; Crime Scene Investigators.

She knew that as per procedure, the lock would be sent to forensics to determine exactly what used to break in. Small details like these, could always make or break a case. Every little detail mattered. She left the door and walked inside, and it was as though warmth enveloped her in its arms. It was unsettling. The sudden shift in temperature was rendering her breathless. It was too hot, Maysa thought.

Maysa felt herself take deep breaths as the heat became increasingly unbearable, seeing Alayla Artino heading her way, she waited by the door.

"How bad is it?" Maysa asked, not wanting to spend more time here than necessary.

"It's confusing. One moment you think you're onto something and then, you're not. You'll see what I mean in a bit," Alayla responded, shaking her head.

Maysa let out a sigh and watched as a sweat drop trickled down Alayla's forehead. "Any reason why it's so hot in here?"

"It took Police Officer Clark a while till he figured out her heater was on the highest temperature, don't think she turned it on, though."

"Why didn't any of you turn it off yet?"

"We can't. Whoever turned it on, wanted it to stay on. Jammed a bloody knife right through the settings." Alayla paused pointing at a team of forensics detaching it from the wall. "They're working on it."

"I'm going to go ahead and take a look around, see what I can find. Could you go talk to the neighbors?"

"Anything suspicious?" Alayla asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Can't put a word on it. They seemed a little off."

"Alright, I'll go talk to them. Catch you later," Alayla said before going down the stairs.

Maysa entered the kitchen first. It was no bigger than the size of a pantry in most American homes. Enough space for a one-door fridge, and a few countertops. There were pictures of the victim plastered all over the fridge; at parties, with friends laughing and having a good time. Maysa couldn't help but feel a little upset for her. All it took was one bad night, and her life was over.