La Façade des Plumes

Chapter I - A Kind Stranger

4:45 am

"Jesus Christ," he whispered as they both stood appalled at the body, "How pissed off you gotta be to brutally kill someone like this?"

"Oh, come on, Daryl, like you haven't seen worse," his partner responded.

"True, but it don't make this any less distubin'." They both sighed, turning away from the body. "Hey, Ron?"

"Yeah?"

"How come we are the only ones here? Where are the detectives?"

"Well," Ron yawned, "...I know that one guy...uh...what's his face? Mendez?"

"Mendoza," Daryl corrected as Ron snapped his fingers.

"Yeah, him. Anyway, he's outside bein' Mr. Poster Child again and questioning the husband," he explained, taking a glance out the door.

Sliding the latex gloves on his hands, Ron turned his focus out the front door to Officer Mendoza's sad attempts to get through to the drunken Jonathan. "What's that guy's deal anyway?" Daryl asked.

"What do you mean?"

"He's always the first dude on the scene and interviews anyone like they were standing here when the murder occurred." Ron shrugged, sliding his fingers in his gloves, "He's been trying to get his detective's shield for about five months now. My guess is that he's growin' desperate. Why? Do you suspect him?" Daryl whipped around, "What? No! I'm just curious." Ron laughed, "Calm down, I'm just giving you a hard time."

Shaking his head, Daryl turned back before Jonathan's low, unintelligible groans filled the awkward silence of the living room, regaining his attention. "Why doesn't he question the daughter? Isn't she a better witness?"

"He did but the only thing she says is 'not him' so I don't know," Ron shrugged.

"Him? As in that guy?" Daryl asked, pointing at Jonathan.

Ron blew his lips, "Shit, I'd guess so. Kind of disturbing though; after witnessing a brutal murder and she still defends him." Daryl looked over at the silent teen, seeing as she watched keenly into nothing. "Do you think he did it?" Ron asked.

"Lawrence?" Daryl shrugged, "I don't know. He seems too shitfaced to even comprehend his existence, but then again, it wouldn't totally excuse him."

Pausing, Daryl narrowed his eyes on Mendoza's uniform, "Is-...is that blood on his clothes?"

Ron glanced at the officer, "He was the one who pulled the daughter away." Daryl's eyes fell to the giant smudged patterns at the edge of the pool, grimacing at the thought.

"Do I need to hire a babysitter or is it possible that you two can complete the tasks you're paid to do without my supervision?" he called out from the kitchen. The two men jumped to their feet, spinning around before exhaling a nervous sigh. "Hey, Ubel!" Ron exclaimed, "We were just settlin' in, y' know?" he giggled nervously. Ubel's once nonchalant expression had turned dark while he stepped uncomfortably close to Ron. Craning his head to Ron's face, Ron lowered his head within his shoulders, shivering at Ubel's warm mint breath as it fanned his face. "There's currently a woman dead on the floor from being a victim of domestic abuse and the only thing you can tell me is that you're too busy 'settlin' in'?"

Falling quiet, Ron gulped letting the sweat from his forehead trickle down his face while Daryl kept his face in his kit. Slowly turning toward the sudden warmth beside him, he was met with Ubel's fingers, handing him a $50 bill. "For the donuts," Ubel whispered, handing him the bill. As shame arose, Daryl looked away, aggressively accepting the bill.

Ubel spun around on his heels, cracking a smile at the forensic duo, "I'll expect a full report on my desk by noon." Breathless from confusion, Ron leaned closer, watching Ubel exit into the outdoors. "My brother, how many donuts did you buy for him to owe you a crisp S. Grant?" Daryl's attention remained on the bloody tiles, slowly shifting toward Mia's lifeless face. The dried tear trails on her face tainted with blood. Her mouth was left open, along with her eyes. "I hate this damn job," he muttered.