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Post by inuvik on May 28, 2007 11:03:13 GMT -5
Karma to The Poet Laureate of Rhode Island for jumping into the pool . . . and for the huge laugh when I got to Glenda Semple. Glen or Glenda? Aah, a Johnny Depp/Ed Woods moment. I'm glad you found it funny Maggie--actually Glenda was me. Do I get a karma too?
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Post by Deleted on May 28, 2007 14:56:40 GMT -5
Karma to The Poet Laureate of Rhode Island for jumping into the pool . . . and for the huge laugh when I got to Glenda Semple. Glen or Glenda? Aah, a Johnny Depp/Ed Woods moment. I'm glad you found it funny Maggie--actually Glenda was me. Do I get a karma too? Yes, because I like you.
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Post by inuvik on May 28, 2007 16:22:27 GMT -5
I am really enjoying this story so far and am so pleased at the humour that is coming out! It's such a pleasure to read this and get some laughs.
We rock! Go FF Go! (and go Sens go, had to get that in).
Thanks Barb!
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Post by maggiethecat on May 28, 2007 18:20:09 GMT -5
Oops . . . my bad. Karma comin' at ya, Innie, for the Glen or Glenda reference. Here's the next installment, and thanks, longlashes, for a great installment. THE HELPING HAND Chapter Two Jesus, what a day, Jim reflected. The place stinks like a flophouse, Semple's dead, I just gave away a $900 coat, and now Terry. "Karen?" "Yeah, Jim?" "This doesn't add up. There's something screwy going on at the ME's office. That stuff under Semple's fingernails? No way could they get a DNA match in a morning, plus I happen to know Terry's not in the database since he's never been arrested; his fingerprints would be on file but that's all." He shook his head. "And removing Semple's hand, that's not Terry." "Someone tryin' to make it look like Terry?" "Bingo." . . . Jim and Karen were in Glen's apartment, talking to his widow. "Glenda, do you know anyone who would want to hurt Glen?" Karen asked. Glenda shook her head. "No. I know Glen could be a bit insensitive at times. But I can't imagine anyone wanting to kill him over it," Glenda sobbed. "Take your time, Glenda. Can you think of anything that could help us in the investigation?" asked Jim. "Well, there was one thing. I don't know if I should even mention it. But Glen was going to Weight Watchers. And I heard that he met someone there, Gloria." After getting about as much information as they could from the distraught widow, Karen and Jim thanked her for her help, and assured her they would keep her informed. "What do you say we visit that Weight Watcher meeting place and see what we can find out about Gloria?" Karen said as they approached the car. "Karen, what was that address -- Amsterdam at 91st, right ? Hey that is right next to the Amsterdam Gym, maybe we could just stop in and let me pound that speedbag again," Jim said with a sly grin. "Yeah, you wish, Rocky." Entering the WW storefront, they saw a slightly chubby woman at the desk. "Hi, I'm Detective Bettancourt and this is my partner Detective Dunbar," Karen offered, flashing her badge. The woman turned toward them, revealing the "Hello my name is Gloria" name tag. "What can I do for you detectives?" she cooed without ever taking her eyes off of Jim. "We're here about one of your clients," Karen answered. "Glen Semple." "Glennie? Such a sweetie," the woman burbled. "If only he could stay off the Pepsi and out of the park." "The park?" Jim said sharply. "Washington Square. He said he was meeting someone there. Personally, I think he was cheating." "On his wife?" Jim asked. "Calories, dearie, it's all about calories. We heard he'd been hanging around the gelato carts." "This is a dead end," Jim said to Karen later. "We need to talk to the ME about Terry's supposed DNA match." "Oh, no . . . not her," Karen groaned. . . . “Marty?” “Yes, we’re done at the park, Boss. Got recognition on his photo from every vendor of fine food in the park.” “That guy was cheating on his diet with every mini van and cart he could find,” Tom sneered. “Did Glen have a social life there? He mix with druggies or bookies?” Jim asked. The lieutenant raised his eyebrows, and looked from Marty to Tom. Oblivious to the interplay, Jim was flummoxed. “But guys, so what? We’re here to solve a crime and last I checked eating like a dinosaur wasn’t illegal.” Fisk invited them to leave again. Jim rapped lightly on the Lieutenant's door. "Hey , Boss, you got a minute?" "Yeah, Jim, what's up?" "I think we might have something. We took a call from one of the vendors. He remembered an incident a couple of days ago." "Anything worth following up on?" Jim shrugged his shoulders and nodded. "Maybe. Seems Glen snatched the last honey glaze out from under the guy's nose." "What are you saying, Jim? That Semple's death was by Krispy Kreme?" "I know it sounds ridiculous but it's not the first time . . . and turns out this time the guy's an exotic knife dealer." "Someone hacks off Semple's hand because he reached for a donut?" Fisk snorted. "That makes about as much sense as the ME saying Jansen's DNA was under his fingernails."
"I know," Jim said, biting his lip. "Karen and I think all the stuff in the park is a red herring. This comes back to some creep in the ME's office, playing sick games."
"Huh," Fisk said. "Then go with it."
"We will," Jim said confidently. "First thing tomorrow morning. Got an appointment with the coroner."
"The redhead?" Fisk said. "Good luck. Woman scares the crap out of me."
"Me too."
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Post by inuvik on May 29, 2007 15:36:46 GMT -5
I hope no one thinks this is too hokey--apologies if it is too unrealistic or cheesy. THE HELPING HAND Chapter Two Jesus, what a day, Jim reflected. The place stinks like a flophouse, Semple's dead, I just gave away a $900 coat, and now Terry. "Karen?" "Yeah, Jim?" "This doesn't add up. There's something screwy going on at the ME's office. That stuff under Semple's fingernails? No way could they get a DNA match in a morning, plus I happen to know Terry's not in the database since he's never been arrested; his fingerprints would be on file but that's all." He shook his head. "And removing Semple's hand, that's not Terry." "Someone tryin' to make it look like Terry?" "Bingo." . . . Jim and Karen were in Glen's apartment, talking to his widow. "Glenda, do you know anyone who would want to hurt Glen?" Karen asked. Glenda shook her head. "No. I know Glen could be a bit insensitive at times. But I can't imagine anyone wanting to kill him over it," Glenda sobbed. "Take your time, Glenda. Can you think of anything that could help us in the investigation?" asked Jim. "Well, there was one thing. I don't know if I should even mention it. But Glen was going to Weight Watchers. And I heard that he met someone there, Gloria." After getting about as much information as they could from the distraught widow, Karen and Jim thanked her for her help, and assured her they would keep her informed. "What do you say we visit that Weight Watcher meeting place and see what we can find out about Gloria?" Karen said as they approached the car. "Karen, what was that address -- Amsterdam at 91st, right ? Hey that is right next to the Amsterdam Gym, maybe we could just stop in and let me pound that speedbag again," Jim said with a sly grin. "Yeah, you wish, Rocky." Entering the WW storefront, they saw a slightly chubby woman at the desk. "Hi, I'm Detective Bettancourt and this is my partner Detective Dunbar," Karen offered, flashing her badge. The woman turned toward them, revealing the "Hello my name is Gloria" name tag. "What can I do for you detectives?" she cooed without ever taking her eyes off of Jim. "We're here about one of your clients," Karen answered. "Glen Semple." "Glennie? Such a sweetie," the woman burbled. "If only he could stay off the Pepsi and out of the park." "The park?" Jim said sharply. "Washington Square. He said he was meeting someone there. Personally, I think he was cheating." "On his wife?" Jim asked. "Calories, dearie, it's all about calories. We heard he'd been hanging around the gelato carts." "This is a dead end," Jim said to Karen later. "We need to talk to the ME about Terry's supposed DNA match." "Oh, no . . . not her," Karen groaned. . . . “Marty?” “Yes, we’re done at the park, Boss. Got recognition on his photo from every vendor of fine food in the park.” “That guy was cheating on his diet with every mini van and cart he could find,” Tom sneered. “Did Glen have a social life there? He mix with druggies or bookies?” Jim asked. The lieutenant raised his eyebrows, and looked from Marty to Tom. Oblivious to the interplay, Jim was flummoxed. “But guys, so what? We’re here to solve a crime and last I checked eating like a dinosaur wasn’t illegal.” Fisk invited them to leave again. Jim rapped lightly on the Lieutenant's door. "Hey , Boss, you got a minute?" "Yeah, Jim, what's up?" "I think we might have something. We took a call from one of the vendors. He remembered an incident a couple of days ago." "Anything worth following up on?" Jim shrugged his shoulders and nodded. "Maybe. Seems Glen snatched the last honey glaze out from under the guy's nose." "What are you saying, Jim? That Semple's death was by Krispy Kreme?" "I know it sounds ridiculous but it's not the first time . . . and turns out this time the guy's an exotic knife dealer." "Someone hacks off Semple's hand because he reached for a donut?" Fisk snorted. "That makes about as much sense as the ME saying Jansen's DNA was under his fingernails." "I know," Jim said, biting his lip. "Karen and I think all the stuff in the park is a red herring. This comes back to some creep in the ME's office, playing sick games." "Huh," Fisk said. "Then go with it." "We will," Jim said confidently. "First thing tomorrow morning. Got an appointment with the coroner." "The redhead?" Fisk said. "Good luck. Woman scares the crap out of me." "Me too." -------------
Karen and Jim sat in the coroner's office waiting for the redhead.
"Now listen," said Karen. "We have to be careful we don't accuse her of anything. If we start out too heavy she won't tell us anything."
Jim was about to reply when Glynnis, the coroner, joined them.
"How can I help you, detectives?" she queried. She looks nervous, Karen thought. Jim noted the tremble in her voice.
Suddenly her assistant burst into the room.
"Glynnis, where did that bottle of Jansen's blood--Oh my! I'm so sorry!" He quickly exited and closed the door.
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Post by krissie on May 29, 2007 16:21:07 GMT -5
I've been away for the last few days and, wow, I've had a delightful amount of catching up to do! Now, if I can just go back and check whose idea it was for Jim to give away his coat... That definitely deserves some karma! (Wonder what Christie will say when she finds out!) So far, so great! I'll try to contribute again at some point, when I'm not so completely exhausted. Krissie
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Post by inuvik on May 29, 2007 16:25:27 GMT -5
Now, if I can just go back and check whose idea it was for Jim to give away his coat... That definitely deserves some karma! (Wonder what Christie will say when she finds out!) That was Anita, our dear BJO. Modified to add: this is post number 1600 for me!
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Post by rducasey on May 29, 2007 16:59:03 GMT -5
this is post number 1600 for me! Karma for that Inuvik!
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Post by Chris on May 29, 2007 17:26:12 GMT -5
this is post number 1600 for me! Karma for that Inuvik! - And here's some more karma to the next 1600 posts. Take care and keep smiling - Chris
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Post by hoosier on May 29, 2007 18:03:09 GMT -5
I hope no one thinks this is too hokey--apologies if it is too unrealistic or cheesy. THE HELPING HAND Chapter Two Jesus, what a day, Jim reflected. The place stinks like a flophouse, Semple's dead, I just gave away a $900 coat, and now Terry. "Karen?" "Yeah, Jim?" "This doesn't add up. There's something screwy going on at the ME's office. That stuff under Semple's fingernails? No way could they get a DNA match in a morning, plus I happen to know Terry's not in the database since he's never been arrested; his fingerprints would be on file but that's all." He shook his head. "And removing Semple's hand, that's not Terry." "Someone tryin' to make it look like Terry?" "Bingo." . . . Jim and Karen were in Glen's apartment, talking to his widow. "Glenda, do you know anyone who would want to hurt Glen?" Karen asked. Glenda shook her head. "No. I know Glen could be a bit insensitive at times. But I can't imagine anyone wanting to kill him over it," Glenda sobbed. "Take your time, Glenda. Can you think of anything that could help us in the investigation?" asked Jim. "Well, there was one thing. I don't know if I should even mention it. But Glen was going to Weight Watchers. And I heard that he met someone there, Gloria." After getting about as much information as they could from the distraught widow, Karen and Jim thanked her for her help, and assured her they would keep her informed. "What do you say we visit that Weight Watcher meeting place and see what we can find out about Gloria?" Karen said as they approached the car. "Karen, what was that address -- Amsterdam at 91st, right ? Hey that is right next to the Amsterdam Gym, maybe we could just stop in and let me pound that speedbag again," Jim said with a sly grin. "Yeah, you wish, Rocky." Entering the WW storefront, they saw a slightly chubby woman at the desk. "Hi, I'm Detective Bettancourt and this is my partner Detective Dunbar," Karen offered, flashing her badge. The woman turned toward them, revealing the "Hello my name is Gloria" name tag. "What can I do for you detectives?" she cooed without ever taking her eyes off of Jim. "We're here about one of your clients," Karen answered. "Glen Semple." "Glennie? Such a sweetie," the woman burbled. "If only he could stay off the Pepsi and out of the park." "The park?" Jim said sharply. "Washington Square. He said he was meeting someone there. Personally, I think he was cheating." "On his wife?" Jim asked. "Calories, dearie, it's all about calories. We heard he'd been hanging around the gelato carts." "This is a dead end," Jim said to Karen later. "We need to talk to the ME about Terry's supposed DNA match." "Oh, no . . . not her," Karen groaned. . . . “Marty?” “Yes, we’re done at the park, Boss. Got recognition on his photo from every vendor of fine food in the park.” “That guy was cheating on his diet with every mini van and cart he could find,” Tom sneered. “Did Glen have a social life there? He mix with druggies or bookies?” Jim asked. The lieutenant raised his eyebrows, and looked from Marty to Tom. Oblivious to the interplay, Jim was flummoxed. “But guys, so what? We’re here to solve a crime and last I checked eating like a dinosaur wasn’t illegal.” Fisk invited them to leave again. Jim rapped lightly on the Lieutenant's door. "Hey , Boss, you got a minute?" "Yeah, Jim, what's up?" "I think we might have something. We took a call from one of the vendors. He remembered an incident a couple of days ago." "Anything worth following up on?" Jim shrugged his shoulders and nodded. "Maybe. Seems Glen snatched the last honey glaze out from under the guy's nose." "What are you saying, Jim? That Semple's death was by Krispy Kreme?" "I know it sounds ridiculous but it's not the first time . . . and turns out this time the guy's an exotic knife dealer." "Someone hacks off Semple's hand because he reached for a donut?" Fisk snorted. "That makes about as much sense as the ME saying Jansen's DNA was under his fingernails." "I know," Jim said, biting his lip. "Karen and I think all the stuff in the park is a red herring. This comes back to some creep in the ME's office, playing sick games." "Huh," Fisk said. "Then go with it." "We will," Jim said confidently. "First thing tomorrow morning. Got an appointment with the coroner." "The redhead?" Fisk said. "Good luck. Woman scares the crap out of me." "Me too." ------------- Karen and Jim sat in the coroner's office waiting for the redhead. "Now listen," said Karen. "We have to be careful we don't accuse her of anything. If we start out too heavy she won't tell us anything." Jim was about to reply when Glynnis, the coroner, joined them. "How can I help you, detectives?" she queried. She looks nervous, Karen thought. Jim noted the tremble in her voice. Suddenly her assistant burst into the room. "Glynnis, where did that bottle of Jansen's blood--Oh my! I'm so sorry!" He quickly exited and closed the door. Karen nudged Jim's foot, then stood, notebook in hand. Opening the door, she saw the assistant disappear into another room down the hall.
"Where does that door lead." Her voice brooked no nonsense.
The ME's right eyebrow rose. "Official personnel only, sorry"
"Now why would you have a vial of Terry Jansen's blood here, doctor?" Jim asked. The vibe in the room had definitely gone hostile.
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Post by krissie on May 31, 2007 15:56:15 GMT -5
THE HELPING HAND Chapter Two Jesus, what a day, Jim reflected. The place stinks like a flophouse, Semple's dead, I just gave away a $900 coat, and now Terry. "Karen?" "Yeah, Jim?" "This doesn't add up. There's something screwy going on at the ME's office. That stuff under Semple's fingernails? No way could they get a DNA match in a morning, plus I happen to know Terry's not in the database since he's never been arrested; his fingerprints would be on file but that's all." He shook his head. "And removing Semple's hand, that's not Terry." "Someone tryin' to make it look like Terry?" "Bingo." . . . Jim and Karen were in Glen's apartment, talking to his widow. "Glenda, do you know anyone who would want to hurt Glen?" Karen asked. Glenda shook her head. "No. I know Glen could be a bit insensitive at times. But I can't imagine anyone wanting to kill him over it," Glenda sobbed. "Take your time, Glenda. Can you think of anything that could help us in the investigation?" asked Jim. "Well, there was one thing. I don't know if I should even mention it. But Glen was going to Weight Watchers. And I heard that he met someone there, Gloria." After getting about as much information as they could from the distraught widow, Karen and Jim thanked her for her help, and assured her they would keep her informed. "What do you say we visit that Weight Watcher meeting place and see what we can find out about Gloria?" Karen said as they approached the car. "Karen, what was that address -- Amsterdam at 91st, right ? Hey that is right next to the Amsterdam Gym, maybe we could just stop in and let me pound that speedbag again," Jim said with a sly grin. "Yeah, you wish, Rocky." Entering the WW storefront, they saw a slightly chubby woman at the desk. "Hi, I'm Detective Bettancourt and this is my partner Detective Dunbar," Karen offered, flashing her badge. The woman turned toward them, revealing the "Hello my name is Gloria" name tag. "What can I do for you detectives?" she cooed without ever taking her eyes off of Jim. "We're here about one of your clients," Karen answered. "Glen Semple." "Glennie? Such a sweetie," the woman burbled. "If only he could stay off the Pepsi and out of the park." "The park?" Jim said sharply. "Washington Square. He said he was meeting someone there. Personally, I think he was cheating." "On his wife?" Jim asked. "Calories, dearie, it's all about calories. We heard he'd been hanging around the gelato carts." "This is a dead end," Jim said to Karen later. "We need to talk to the ME about Terry's supposed DNA match." "Oh, no . . . not her," Karen groaned. . . . “Marty?” “Yes, we’re done at the park, Boss. Got recognition on his photo from every vendor of fine food in the park.” “That guy was cheating on his diet with every mini van and cart he could find,” Tom sneered. “Did Glen have a social life there? He mix with druggies or bookies?” Jim asked. The lieutenant raised his eyebrows, and looked from Marty to Tom. Oblivious to the interplay, Jim was flummoxed. “But guys, so what? We’re here to solve a crime and last I checked eating like a dinosaur wasn’t illegal.” Fisk invited them to leave again. Jim rapped lightly on the Lieutenant's door. "Hey , Boss, you got a minute?" "Yeah, Jim, what's up?" "I think we might have something. We took a call from one of the vendors. He remembered an incident a couple of days ago." "Anything worth following up on?" Jim shrugged his shoulders and nodded. "Maybe. Seems Glen snatched the last honey glaze out from under the guy's nose." "What are you saying, Jim? That Semple's death was by Krispy Kreme?" "I know it sounds ridiculous but it's not the first time . . . and turns out this time the guy's an exotic knife dealer." "Someone hacks off Semple's hand because he reached for a donut?" Fisk snorted. "That makes about as much sense as the ME saying Jansen's DNA was under his fingernails." "I know," Jim said, biting his lip. "Karen and I think all the stuff in the park is a red herring. This comes back to some creep in the ME's office, playing sick games." "Huh," Fisk said. "Then go with it." "We will," Jim said confidently. "First thing tomorrow morning. Got an appointment with the coroner." "The redhead?" Fisk said. "Good luck. Woman scares the crap out of me." "Me too." ------------- Karen and Jim sat in the coroner's office waiting for the redhead. "Now listen," said Karen. "We have to be careful we don't accuse her of anything. If we start out too heavy she won't tell us anything." Jim was about to reply when Glynnis, the coroner, joined them. "How can I help you, detectives?" she queried. She looks nervous, Karen thought. Jim noted the tremble in her voice. Suddenly her assistant burst into the room. "Glynnis, where did that bottle of Jansen's blood--Oh my! I'm so sorry!" He quickly exited and closed the door. Karen nudged Jim's foot, then stood, notebook in hand. Opening the door, she saw the assistant disappear into another room down the hall. "Where does that door lead." Her voice brooked no nonsense. The ME's right eyebrow rose. "Official personnel only, sorry" "Now why would you have a vial of Terry Jansen's blood here, doctor?" Jim asked. The vibe in the room had definitely gone hostile. "It's not a vial. It's a bottle. Didn't you hear?"
Jim raised his eyebrows. "Okay. Let me rephrase the question. Why do you have a bottle of Terry Jansen's blood?"
The ensuing pause was punctuated by an embarrased shuffling of feet and the clearing of a throat. Then Glynnis said, "Terry and I... We go way back. Look, is this strictly necessary? I don't want to break a confidence."
"Yes," snapped Karen. "It's necessary. This is a homicide investigation."
"Oh. Ah... Well. In that case, I guess..." Glynnis took a deep breath, then said, "I was doing him a favour."
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Post by inuvik on May 31, 2007 16:18:14 GMT -5
Can I suggest the next person make a chapter 3? This is getting long again. THE HELPING HAND Chapter Two Jesus, what a day, Jim reflected. The place stinks like a flophouse, Semple's dead, I just gave away a $900 coat, and now Terry. "Karen?" "Yeah, Jim?" "This doesn't add up. There's something screwy going on at the ME's office. That stuff under Semple's fingernails? No way could they get a DNA match in a morning, plus I happen to know Terry's not in the database since he's never been arrested; his fingerprints would be on file but that's all." He shook his head. "And removing Semple's hand, that's not Terry." "Someone tryin' to make it look like Terry?" "Bingo." . . . Jim and Karen were in Glen's apartment, talking to his widow. "Glenda, do you know anyone who would want to hurt Glen?" Karen asked. Glenda shook her head. "No. I know Glen could be a bit insensitive at times. But I can't imagine anyone wanting to kill him over it," Glenda sobbed. "Take your time, Glenda. Can you think of anything that could help us in the investigation?" asked Jim. "Well, there was one thing. I don't know if I should even mention it. But Glen was going to Weight Watchers. And I heard that he met someone there, Gloria." After getting about as much information as they could from the distraught widow, Karen and Jim thanked her for her help, and assured her they would keep her informed. "What do you say we visit that Weight Watcher meeting place and see what we can find out about Gloria?" Karen said as they approached the car. "Karen, what was that address -- Amsterdam at 91st, right ? Hey that is right next to the Amsterdam Gym, maybe we could just stop in and let me pound that speedbag again," Jim said with a sly grin. "Yeah, you wish, Rocky." Entering the WW storefront, they saw a slightly chubby woman at the desk. "Hi, I'm Detective Bettancourt and this is my partner Detective Dunbar," Karen offered, flashing her badge. The woman turned toward them, revealing the "Hello my name is Gloria" name tag. "What can I do for you detectives?" she cooed without ever taking her eyes off of Jim. "We're here about one of your clients," Karen answered. "Glen Semple." "Glennie? Such a sweetie," the woman burbled. "If only he could stay off the Pepsi and out of the park." "The park?" Jim said sharply. "Washington Square. He said he was meeting someone there. Personally, I think he was cheating." "On his wife?" Jim asked. "Calories, dearie, it's all about calories. We heard he'd been hanging around the gelato carts." "This is a dead end," Jim said to Karen later. "We need to talk to the ME about Terry's supposed DNA match." "Oh, no . . . not her," Karen groaned. . . . “Marty?” “Yes, we’re done at the park, Boss. Got recognition on his photo from every vendor of fine food in the park.” “That guy was cheating on his diet with every mini van and cart he could find,” Tom sneered. “Did Glen have a social life there? He mix with druggies or bookies?” Jim asked. The lieutenant raised his eyebrows, and looked from Marty to Tom. Oblivious to the interplay, Jim was flummoxed. “But guys, so what? We’re here to solve a crime and last I checked eating like a dinosaur wasn’t illegal.” Fisk invited them to leave again. Jim rapped lightly on the Lieutenant's door. "Hey , Boss, you got a minute?" "Yeah, Jim, what's up?" "I think we might have something. We took a call from one of the vendors. He remembered an incident a couple of days ago." "Anything worth following up on?" Jim shrugged his shoulders and nodded. "Maybe. Seems Glen snatched the last honey glaze out from under the guy's nose." "What are you saying, Jim? That Semple's death was by Krispy Kreme?" "I know it sounds ridiculous but it's not the first time . . . and turns out this time the guy's an exotic knife dealer." "Someone hacks off Semple's hand because he reached for a donut?" Fisk snorted. "That makes about as much sense as the ME saying Jansen's DNA was under his fingernails." "I know," Jim said, biting his lip. "Karen and I think all the stuff in the park is a red herring. This comes back to some creep in the ME's office, playing sick games." "Huh," Fisk said. "Then go with it." "We will," Jim said confidently. "First thing tomorrow morning. Got an appointment with the coroner." "The redhead?" Fisk said. "Good luck. Woman scares the crap out of me." "Me too." ------------- Karen and Jim sat in the coroner's office waiting for the redhead. "Now listen," said Karen. "We have to be careful we don't accuse her of anything. If we start out too heavy she won't tell us anything." Jim was about to reply when Glynnis, the coroner, joined them. "How can I help you, detectives?" she queried. She looks nervous, Karen thought. Jim noted the tremble in her voice. Suddenly her assistant burst into the room. "Glynnis, where did that bottle of Jansen's blood--Oh my! I'm so sorry!" He quickly exited and closed the door. Karen nudged Jim's foot, then stood, notebook in hand. Opening the door, she saw the assistant disappear into another room down the hall. "Where does that door lead." Her voice brooked no nonsense. The ME's right eyebrow rose. "Official personnel only, sorry" "Now why would you have a vial of Terry Jansen's blood here, doctor?" Jim asked. The vibe in the room had definitely gone hostile. "It's not a vial. It's a bottle. Didn't you hear?" Jim raised his eyebrows. "Okay. Let me rephrase the question. Why do you have a bottle of Terry Jansen's blood?" The ensuing pause was punctuated by an embarrased shuffling of feet and the clearing of a throat. Then Glynnis said, "Terry and I... We go way back. Look, is this strictly necessary? I don't want to break a confidence." "Yes," snapped Karen. "It's necessary. This is a homicide investigation." "Oh. Ah... Well. In that case, I guess..." Glynnis took a deep breath, then said, "I was doing him a favour. Terry doesn't trust the health care system. He's also a very rare blood type, AB positive. He was always worried that the hospital wouldn't have his blood. And being a cop, in a profession where he could be shot, he was worried that they would be out. So he asked if I could keep a bottle here, and if it was necessary run a bottle over to the hospital for a transfusion."
Glynnis paused and then said, "Did you say this was a homicide investigation? Is Terry dead?"
"No," Karen replied. "Glen Semple. We'll be on our way now. Thank you Glynnis."
Jim and Karen left.
"What now?" Jim sighed.
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Post by Duchess of Lashes on Jun 1, 2007 20:24:37 GMT -5
"Oh. Ah... Well. In that case, I guess..." Glynnis took a deep breath, then said, "I was doing him a favour. Terry doesn't trust the health care system. He's also a very rare blood type, AB positive. He was always worried that the hospital wouldn't have his blood. And being a cop, in a profession where he could be shot, he was worried that they would be out. So he asked if I could keep a bottle here, and if it was necessary run a bottle over to the hospital for a transfusion." Glynnis paused and then said, "Did you say this was a homicide investigation? Is Terry dead?" "No," Karen replied. "Glen Semple. We'll be on our way now. Thank you Glynnis." Jim and Karen left. "What now?" Jim sighed. Chapter Three Jim leaned back in his chair, a hint of defeat in his voice. "I don't know, Boss, everything we got so far is leading us nowhere in a hurry. We think we might have finally found something but..." he threw his hands up in frustation..."truth is, we got nothing."
"So, the visit to the ME came up empty?"
"The only thing not empty was a bottle of Terry's blood. But a blood source and the DNA under Glen's nails..." Jim shrugged, "doesn't add up. Nah, we're missing something...hey, Karen, you run that knife dealer through the system?"
"Yeah, he's got some priors."
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Post by krissie on Jun 2, 2007 15:36:33 GMT -5
Chapter Three Jim leaned back in his chair, a hint of defeat in his voice. "I don't know, Boss, everything we got so far is leading us nowhere in a hurry. We think we might have finally found something but..." he threw his hands up in frustation..."truth is, we got nothing." "So, the visit to the ME came up empty?" "The only thing not empty was a bottle of Terry's blood. But a blood source and the DNA under Glen's nails..." Jim shrugged, "doesn't add up. Nah, we're missing something...hey, Karen, you run that knife dealer through the system?" "Yeah, he's got some priors." "So, we like him for the homicide?" asked Fisk.
"I guess," said Karen. "What do you think, Jim?"
"We should look into him, but..."
"Uh, oh," muttered Karen. She watched Jim lean forward, plant his elbows on the desk, then rest his chin on his hands. He began to chew his bottom lip.
Karen recognised the body language. Jim was in full thinking mode, which usually meant that the case was about to take a sharp right off Probability Highway. She waited impatiently for him to say something else because, however improbable Jim's theories seemed initially, they often proved accurate.
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Post by inuvik on Jun 4, 2007 15:42:54 GMT -5
Well, I'm stumped. I think we need some more contributors. We had lots at the beginning--what happened?
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