Killing the Unfaithful

1. A Bloody Valentine

Officer Dean Pinkard was paid no attention as he made his way through the crowded living room of the expensive apartment, which happened to be the crime scene of his first case.

Police and forensic department scrambled about the house, doing duties Pinkard didn't know existed.

His eyes spotted an attractive young lady wearing a police uniform, kneeling beside the place of death, examining for clues.

Her hair was tied in a tight pony. Her dark skin had a natural glow. She wore no makeup, but she looked beautiful none the less.

Dean was a nice man, which he never failed to mention to anyone.

He got the feeling the pretty lady is going to fall head over heels for him.

He set his hair and walked up to her. He bent down a little so as to come to her level.

"Ma'am do you know who is the officer in charge?" he asked sweetly.

The lady looked up. Her cold grey eyes examined him. She radiated an aura of power.

She stood up slowly. He had underestimated her height, as she stood half a foot taller than he.

"You are looking right at her," she stated coldly.

"You, you are, you are Officer Michael Fraser," he sluttered.

Just then an officer came running towards her.

"Mr. Weld is here?" Michael asked.

"No, but a women is here to meet you. She says she knows you" he said, panting.

She began to go but Pinkard stopped her.

"I'm Dean Pinkard. I'm sent to assist you on this case," and seeing her rolling eyes he added distinctly, "by Frank Pinkard."

That made her scowl. She stared daggers at him, "Come on important man's son. Follow me."

Dean followed her towards the edge of the enormous living room, where a lady, not more than thirty was waiting. She wore a bright pink dress and heels.

As Michael laid eyes on the woman, a spark of recognition crossed her face. She softened for a second but hardened right after.

"Do you need any assistance ma'am?" she asked.

The women turned. She was well dressed but her face was red and her eyeliner was smudged.

She looked relieved and delighted to see Michael, like she was an old friend coming to her aid during a crisis.

"Mike, I mean officer. I am, I mean was," her voice cracked "Jane's friend. I came in today morning to meet her, as I knew her husband was out of town so..." she wiped her eyes with her wrists, "there was police everywhere and, and they, they told she was de-ead" she could hardly keep herself from crying.

Dean felt himself melting. He looked across to Michael, whose expression was as steely as ever.

"I'm sorry for your loss ma'am," Dean said before Michael could respond.

She glared at him as though he did something wrong, but he had the feeling it was just because he existed.

"What's your name?" she asked the woman, determined to not accept that she knows her.

"Liana Ashlie," she croaked.

Another officer came towards them.

"Mr. Weld's assistant, is here. Mr. Weld will be here in a few hours," he reported.

As soon as Liana heard the news, she became alert. She quickly wiped the tears off her face, set her hair, smoothened her dress and straightened.

Michael eyed her for a few seconds before ordering the officer to let him in.

Soon a tall man fumbled in, looking distinctly uneasy.

He had puffy eyes and messy black hair. He wore a suit which was creased. His eyes kept darting around.

He may have been attractive, but presently he looked as if he had spent the night in a jungle.

When he saw Liana, he nodded in acknowledgment. Dean got the feeling that Liana's red face had nothing to do with crying.

Then the guy turned to Dean. He cleared his throat and spoke in a hoarse voice.

"Mr. Weld is currently in India due to some business matters. He has been there since three days. He was going to return tomorrow night but due to the present events, he will be here in a few hours," he tried to sound bold reciting the memorized lines but failed miserably.

Being a policeman's son, Dean knew people enough to know something was wrong with this guy. The way he looked at the door every now and then, as if in a hurry to leave. How he didn't maintain eye contact.

Apparently, Michael felt it too. She tilted her head and examined him.

Her look made the assistant shift uncomfortably. He kept his eyes intently on Dean.

Michael brought his attention to herself by speaking in a commanding voice. "I'm Michael Fraser. The officer in charge of this case. What is your good name, sir?"

"Tristan Clinton," he couldn't hide his surprise at the fact that Michael was actually in charge.

Michael nodded. This must happen to her a lot as she looked unfazed.

"Both of you need to stay here to record your statements," she told them.

Liana's eyes widened "We can't leave?" her voice cracked on 'leave'.

Before she could argue, Tristan blurted.
"Are we suspects?" His eyes were wild, but under the madness was something soft. Grief?

Michael cleared her throat and said in a soothing voice.
"No, sir, you aren't suspects. You can record your statements and leave. "

Both of them let out a collective sigh of relief.

They're relaxation was short lived as Michael turned towards Tristan and commanded.
"We will start with you."

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