CHERRY-PICKED

Chapter 1

The local police were marking the crime scene, creating a restricted arena around the homicide victim. There was an ominous atmosphere surrounding them. Well, it's not every day a member of the local police gets murdered. Who in the right mind would have the nerve to murder a police officer? The entire posse was quiet, reluctant to break the deafening silence that persisted. They had called the forensics department to survey and collect data. The coroner and the forensics appeared on the spot at the same time. The coroner lead on duty was James Clear. He estimated the time of death to be somewhere between 12 AM and 2 AM and the cause of death was a single gunshot wound to the chest. The forensics department collected blood samples from the victim, recovered a shell from the crime scene for ballistics report and dusted the police car for possible prints of the culprit. James deduced that the murderer was alone, as it did not look like an organized gang work but rather the clumsiness of a single perpetrator. The motive for murder however was unclear. Wallet, watch, phone everything was intact so, it was not a robbery gone wrong. The cop was new in town ergo, too early to have created any enemies locally. So, this was nothing personal. Further, he was on night patrol and attending a 911 call so, the likeliness was more that of the intervention of an ongoing crime. Probably he noticed a break–in nearby or a robbery in one of the houses in the neighborhood. Then it hit him like a lightning bolt.

'This neighborhood!', thought James. 'This is where Carl Maksym resided. This is no longer a mundane homicide but probably a major concern of National security.'

He decided he was not going to take any chances. He pulled out the local police from the area and made a prompt call to the Federal Bureau of Investigation. He identified Carl Maksym's house, notified the DA and persuaded the forensics to wind up as soon as possible, ideally before the FBI showed up. Forensics were just finishing up labelling the last sample when the FBI was at the crime scene. They showed up in minutes. It was a team of three; two men and one woman. One of the male agents, Walter Reilly, was six–foot–two, muscular, robust ex–marine. He was the boss. The other male agent, Hugo Chavez, was Latino, five–foot–ten, also muscular with an expressionless face. Most probably the interrogative type, inferred James. Finally, the female agent, Talia Lawton, five–foot–six, curious, computer expert, cute as a button. They secured the area, conducted a full sweep and James brought them up to speed.

"The worst part is, this is the neighborhood of Carl Maksym and that is his house.", said James pointing to a whitish Cape Cod with a grey roof and a garden upfront with a small pathway from the door through the verandah till the front porch terminating at the black fence gate. "There is no one in there as far as we know, but nobody entered so we can't be sure. The police indicate that they might have gone on a vacation and that's information from multiple sources."

"Carl Maksym? As in 'The Pentagon Advisor' Carl Maksym?", asked Walter.

"Yup! The very same.", replied James.

"Did the police question any of the residents in the area for witnesses or possible suspects?"

"Nope. Thought it would be best to leave it to the professionals. The floor is all yours, sir."

"Thanks, James. We'll take it from here. Once I'm done with the body of the victim you can wind up. Have forensics send us the ballistics report. Chavez, Lawton round up the residents for questioning. Somebody definitely saw something and I wanna know. And Lawton, while you're at it call Luke and ask him to haul his rear over here asap."

"On it, boss.", replied Hugo.

"Yes sir.", said Talia.

They started gathering all the local residents on the street for questioning. Witnesses and possible suspects, that was the idea. A thorough While the round–up was in progress Talia pulled out her phone and called Luke Wright.