Tuesday 28 June 2011

The Suspects

This is not going to be so much of a mystery, but more a series of different interviews. I have been studying methods of police interrogation and wanted to give Carlton and River a chance. There is a mystery part to it, as one of the suspects is guilty, but it's more of a 'case study' style piece.


I hope you enjoy it!


Carlton and River looked through the one way mirrors into the four suspect rooms. In one, a rich teenage posh-boy swung back on his chair, his immaculate designer trainers resting on the table. In the next one along, a shabby homeless man sat hunched on his chair, his bloodshot eyes glancing into the corners. In the final room, a young girl was waiting in a nervous silence, her mother beside her.

A couple of the junior officers were standing watching the more experienced couple. "Why are they watching?" the shorter one whispered.

"Profiling," the other whispered back. "They can't just go in there and get a statement. People automatically don't want to talk to the police, and with if they ask for a lawyer, they'll belt right up. Those two have to find the best way to make them sing."

At that moment, Carlton and River moved towards the third room, where the girl with blonde pigtails was waiting with her mother.

**

"Hello, Melissa," smiled River, amicably. "Do you understand why you're here?"

The girl nodded solemnly. "They said I had to tell you about this morning."

"That's right," replied River, with another smile. Melissa gave a tentative smile back, comforted slightly, but glanced uneasily at Carlton, who had sat down opposite her, his face less than friendly.

"Don't mind him," River said. "Can you tell us about what you saw this morning?"

With another nervous glance at Carlton, Melissa began. "I was walking to my school this morning when I heard a yell. I went to see, and someone shoved me out of the way and ran. I went down the road and saw a woman lying there. She was crying, her ankle was broken. She said someone had grabbed her purse."

River nodded encouragingly. "This man who ran past you - what did he look like?"

Melissa looked more nervous now. "I - I don't really remember much." She looked away, at the floor.

"Melissa, lying to the police is a serious offence." Carlton spoke for the first time, gravely.

"I'm - I'm not lying!" Her voice became panicky. River placed a restraining hand on Carlton, who shook it off.

"It's okay, Melissa," she said, "Don't worry, he means well. We just need to know as much as possible."

"Well, he wore a blue jumper," she began, "And he was quite tall. That's all I remember... I didn't see much of him. Please, you must believe me. I didn't mean to lie, I just -"

"It's okay, Melissa," said River. "You're not in any trouble. In fact, unless you can tell us more, you can go."

**

"Two accounts of pick-pocketing, one of being drunk and disorderly, and now you're found with a woman's purse stuffed in your jacket pocket," he snapped. "It's not looking good for you, is it, Mr Piper?"

"I found the purse," Mr Piper, the homeless man, mumbled. "I didn't steal it."

"Really," Carlton drawled sarcastically. "You were seen to be in the area at the time the purse was stolen. Then the purse turns up in your hands."

The man shrugged, clearly not bothering with a defence. Carlton leaned forward. "As a matter of fact, I don't believe you did steal it. I think someone else did, and you stole it from them."

"Luckily for you," he continued, "The criminal we're looking for is to be charged with assault, as well as robbery. So here's the deal: you give me the information I need, and I give you immunity."

"That's not from chicken pox, either," added River, when Piper looked confused. "It means we drop your charges if you help us out."

"Of course, if you don't," said Carlton, "We can add mugging to your list of crimes and you're looking at a nice little stint behind bars. What do you say?"

The man frowned, and looked between the two. Tempted. Finally he grinned, showing a cave of yellowing teeth, and gabbled his information quickly. "There's a load of kids in the area. Got a kinda competition running. Who steals the most wins. I dunno who they are, but I'd have a bet at one of them."

**

Striding with a sure step into the interrogation room, Carlton knocked the feet of the teenager onto the floor, making his chair fall forward with a bang.

"You have the right to remain silent, so shut the hell up," he snapped, kicking the door shut behind him.

A smile spread across the face of the boy. "I never knew cops really said that," he grinned.

Carlton gave him his ferocious glare, and the boy's smile melted away. "Don't even think about any smart talk with me, Tyler" he growled. "Turn up, shut up, and sit up or I'll knock the wind out of your sails with a couple of nights behind bars before talking to you again."

Tyler sat up a little at this, and touched his hair self-consciously. "Okay."

"A witness claimed you ran into her from a place where a mugging took place. Care to explain?"

"I ain't talking to no-one without a lawyer," said Tyler.

Carlton sighed and leaned back. "Okay. Fine. We can do that. But I'm warning you, call your lawyer and he will take half an hour to arrive before I can ask you any more questions. And that will make be a rather annoyed guy. And trust me, you do not want to be the guy who makes me annoyed."

Tyler was visibly shaken by this, but he didn't move. "My dad says, don't talk to cops without a lawyer," he repeated, rather nervously.

"Fine. I ask the questions, and you can answer or not as you like. Choose to answer with a lawyer, and you can do that. But I'm warning you, that's not going to make me any happier."

Tyler nervously nodded. "Okay, I guess."

"We have a witness who states you ran into her near an assault and robbery which took place on the other side of town. Care to explain?"

"Yeah. I was walking along and suddenly this weird creep of a guy grabs this woman and shoves her on the ground. She starts screaming and crying and he grabs her purse from her hands. I yell for him to stop, and start chasing after him, but he had a head start. I collided with this kid on the next street, but kept on running after him. But I couldn't catch him."

**

Is someone lying? If so, who?
Answer: It is highly unlikely that Tyler, an young, fit teenager, would be unable to catch up with a street homeless man like Piper, especially with his bloodshot eyes, indicating that he probably had been drinking. It is Tyler that Carlton and River need to re-interrogate.

Sunday 26 June 2011

The Kidnapping

Mr Dryden had always thought himself a strong man. But the fact that he was well over six foot and capable of lifting a heavy oak table without breaking a sweat did not stop the tears that leaked out from under his eyes. The uniforms looked at each other rather pathetically, unsure about what they could do to help him.

To their relief, the two detectives came back into the room before they needed to say anything. Mr Dryden looked up eagerly at them, but the man shook his head.

"No trace of them, I'm afraid, sir," said Carlton, and Mr Dryden sat down heavily. "But we'll keep looking until we find him, I promise."

He nodded, as though trying to convince himself. Carlton and River sat down opposite him.

"Is there anything else you remember about last night? Anything at all that might help us?" asked Carlton, his pen already poised above his notebook.

"What more is there to say? I just heard this noise in the middle of the night, a sort of banging. I was half asleep at the time, so I thought it was the dog. But then a few minutes later I heard this cry, so I got up to see what the problem was. I thought perhaps Louis had fallen out of bed, or something. Then I saw that the window was open in the living room, and when I looked out, someone was outside, holding - holding my son."

Another sob threatened to escape him, but he took a deep breath. "I shouted something, I can't even remember what. They had a car waiting. Dark blue... a Ford I think. Whoever it was quickly bundled him into the car and drove off. I tried to get out of the window to follow him, but I couldn't - I was too big."

He looked down at his thick, muscled arms and legs, as if to blame them for the fact that his son was gone.

"How old was Louis?" asked River, gently.

"Only - only five." Mr Dryden couldn't stop himself now, the tears flowed freely. "He was all I had left."

"What about his mother?" asked Carlton.

"My wife left me not long after Louis was born. Whilst she was away touring with her band, I was left with custody of Louis."

Carlton nodded, thanked him, and left, but River stayed for a moment. "We're really sorry about your son, Mr Dryden," she said. "I promise you, we'll do everything we can to find him."

He nodded again, and blew his nose. Then he headed over to the mantlepiece, where there was a framed photo of himself, a young woman, and a young boy with curly blond hair. He touched the boy's face lightly. "That's my boy," he murmured.

He picked it up and handed it to River. "Keep it," he said, "So you know what he looks like."

River took it and smile. "We'll bring him back home, Mr Dryden," she promised. "I promise."

She headed out of the house to the car, where Carlton was waiting for her. The instant she was in, he pulled away with a screech of brakes.

"You took your time," he snapped, his eyes glued to the road.

River knew better than to answer, as he snatched his phone from the dashboard and began dialling a number, swerving dangerously through the cars as he did so. He thrust the phone at River.

"Ring that number," he instructed.

"Why?"

"They're locating the dark blue Fords that headed out of town in the past four hours and giving me an address. Now get on with it!"

River did so, and listened for a moment to the man's gravelly voice on the other end of the phone. "One's heading north on the motorway towards Crawford, two are on the A692 east-bound and one double backed on itself and is near King's Cross."

Carlton stabbed the buttons on the radio. "All patrol cars, this is Squad Car 27. We're headed for the Crawford car, repeat, the car headed to Crawford. Divide up the other cars between yourselves, let's find this kid before anything happens to him."

A moment later the crackly voice came back at him. "Roger that, sir. We've covered the rest."

Carlton weaved in and out of the traffic until he hit the motorway, when he slammed his foot down. "Best bit of being a copper," he muttered to himself, as the needle hit 100 mph.

**

"What do you mean, you haven't got him?" Carlton was livid, and River made a mental note to stay out of his way for the next few hours. The uniform looked as though he wanted to do the same.

"Sorry, sir," he mumbled. "None of the cars contained a child. There was an elderly couple, Mr and Mrs Vane, James Kayne, the famous boxer, a Miss Vaqueros and a group of three brothers who refused to give their names as anything other than Ghost, Black and Crew. No children anywhere."

"Vaqueros?" butted in River, suddenly, before Carlton's breath could turn into abuse. "That's Dryden's ex-wife, sir, that's Louis' mother."

Carlton's angry glare was replaced by his sharp, concentrating look. "Get her in the interview room, now," he ordered. "And keep the others here, I'll want to talk with them. Don't think you've heard the last of this."

Whilst Carlton went to talk to the boy's mother, River slipped away, wanting to confirm her own hunches. She went first into the room where Ghost, Black and Crew were waiting.

The three obviously weren't brothers. Crew was dark-skinned, with a red stripe running down one side of his dark dreadlocks. Black was tall and skeletal, and Ghost was small and Asian, a dozen amulets hanging around his neck. He was strumming a guitar whilst the others were singing along, Crew drumming a beat on the table.

They trailed off when River came in and sat down opposite them silently. She took the picture of Dryden, his wife and his son and placed it on the table in front of her. "Know them?"

"Sure," said Crew, exhaling smoky breath at her. "The chick's Vixen, she's in our band."

"Vixen? What's her real name?"

"Real name? It is her real name. Your false two-part names are constraints of society, binding us down with ties stronger than rope. By choosing our own names, we cut these bonds and forge our own path through life, bringing peace and love with our music," said Ghost.

"Do you know where she was last night?"

"She came home from her holiday only this morning. We were meeting for another gig tonight. We're playing our new song, listen!" Ghost strummed a chord and the boys all began singing again.

River shook her head and left quickly, frowning. Nothing tied those boys to the abduction, but something... something wasn't right. She picked up the list of suspects again and examined it.

Answer (highlight to read): The boys must have been part of the abduction. Miss Vaquerous, Louis' mother, was out of the country, and the other two suspects (the elderly couple and the heavily-built prize fighter) would both be unable to climb through the window. Knowing Miss Vaqueros and her family makes it all the more likely that they would have been part of it.

Saturday 11 June 2011

Circus Tricks

Winter had hit the small town of Little Elmsford hard, and, by the first Saturday in November it had been raining for a solid three days. The river had burst its banks, blocking off the main road into the town with dirty, knee-high water. And it was along this flooded way that the circus caravans were winding its slow way.

"Damn this weather," came a low voice from behind a copy of the Sunday Times. "There's nothing more depressing than setting up camp in two feet of mud."

"It wouldn't kill you to look on the bright side for once, Pete," said a pretty redhead, flipping through a magazine.

"Okay, everyone, shut the hell up and listen!" The caravan had come to a halt and the owner and part time director had just come in from the rain. Roxanne Wright was five foot two and as scary as hell.

"Flood water's bad, we can't make it past here. Peter and Jasper, you're going to need to get the main tent, take it to the green and set it up. Yes, in this weather!" she added, as Pete began to grumble. "Get to it. Now."

She waited until they had left before frowning at the remaining faces. "Vera, where's Megan?"

"Here," called a voice from the other end of the caravan. She straightened up. Despite the fact that her hair was dyed black and cropped, there was no mistaking the similarities between Meg and her twin. They both had identical blue eyes, the same turned up nose and flirtatious smile.

This smile, incidentally, was not visible at this present moment. Meg's face was distinctly annoyed. "I can't find my wig," she scowled. 

"Well find it," snapped Roxanne. Vera bit her lip, remembering the tantrum Roxanne had thrown when Meg first cut her hair off. They had had to have a special wig made to match her natural ginger curls for their twin trapeze act still to work.

"Maybe it's in the other van," she mused, and quickly slipped out.

Roxanne turned to go, and then whipped back to face the remaining couple. "Don't think you two are without jobs," she warned them. "As soon as the tent's up, you need to get the trapeze organized, Vera. And Matthew, you're going to need to unload the costumes. No slacking here, or you're out."

When she had gone, Matt leant back and ran his hands through his dark hair. "I thought she'd never leave!" he sighed, smiling across at Vera.

She placed her hand on his. "Me neither," she smiled, and leant forward to kiss him lightly on the lips.

"Vera," he began, but she shushed him and linked her hands around his neck to kiss him again.

He took her hands in his to talk to her properly. "Vera, listen to me. I'm sorry, but - it's just not working out. Between us, I mean. You're a wonderful girl, and you deserve a wonderful guy. And I don't think I can be that guy for you."

Vera was speechless for a moment. "But Matt... I love you. I thought - I thought you loved me."

"I'm sorry, Vera."

They stood in silence for a full twenty seconds, and then Vera's face changed from its usual happy-go-lucky smile to a furious glare. Matt took two steps back in alarm. "Get out!" she screamed. "Go on, get out of here! I don't want to see you ever again!" Angry tears streamed down her cheeks like the rain down the caravan windows. She grabbed a cushion from the couch and started hitting him with it.

Matt retreated towards the door, protecting his head with his arms. He kicked the door open with his foot and stumbled out into the rain, away from Vera's angry glares.

"Hey, Matt!" A greeting reached his ears before he had taken two steps from the caravan. "The girl become too much for you, then?"

"Shut up, Jazz," he replied. "I don't want to talk about it."
Pete and Jasper exchanged a glance, but dropped the subject. "We've got the tent secure, and I'm going to set up the electrics. Jazz, you need to get the animals in." said Pete.

"Roger that," said Jazz, and left.

"Matt, would you get the costumes laid out for tonight? That's assuming we get an audience in this weather."

"Anything to get out of the rain," answered Matt, and headed inside.

**
Several hours later
**

"Twenty minutes! Twenty minutes until we're on! Where the hell's Matthew?"

No-one answered, but Vera blushed. Always able to second-guess her twin, Meg gave her a meaningful glance, but said nothing.

"I said where's Matthew?" Roxanne yelled.

Jasper coughed. "Er, I last saw him heading into the caravan about an hour ago. Then Vera ran out of the caravan quickly, past me."

Vera frowned. "No, that wasn't me. I was on the trapeze, practising my act with Meg."

Meg nodded to confirm this. "Yeah, she was there. And Pete was in and out the whole time, fixing the electrics. He saw us both."

"I could have sworn it was you, Vera. I saw your hair, you're the only redhead girl, aren't you? That said, I was weighing out feed at the time, so I didn't see the face."

"I don't care who went where, I want Matthew here now." growled Roxanne. "Peter, go and get him from the caravan or wherever he is."

Pete returned within minutes, his face pale. "Sorry to report," he began, slowly. "Matt's dead."

There was a hubbub of voices and questions, and Pete raised his hands in a surrender gesture.

"Shut up!" screamed Roxanne. "Peter. How did you find him?"

"He was stabbed with one of the knife-throwing knives, and he's lying face down in the caravan. He's stone cold, so probably been dead a while."

"Vera?"

"I didn't do anything! I said, I was on the trapeze! Meg said -"

"She's your twin, for god's sake! Hardly a solid alibi, is it?"

The rest of Roxanne's speech was drowned out by a wave of protest from both twins, which escalated to nearly deafening level when the word "police" appeared over the argument.

"Wait a sec," said Jasper, when they finally quietened. "I think I can solve this without calling the police."

Answer: The killer was Roxanne. It must have been someone who could wear Meg's red wig and passably be Vera to Jasper's unobservant eye. Both men would have been too large and of the girls, Roxanne does not have an alibi.

Thursday 9 June 2011

Apologies

Hi everyone!

Firstly, let me apologise for the lack of posts for the past few days. I have had my exams, followed by school restarting, which has meant that my free time has plummeted. I am hoping to upload some more mini-mysteries, preferably ones that are more mystery than story, over the next couple of weeks. I'll do my best, promise!

I am taking part in the International Blog Writer Award where people are given points for popularity and quality of writing. Please help out by clicking the vote button on the left! It's free and there's no sign up required - just click the button and your vote will be added.

I also wanted to thank you all for reading, following, and voting for my blog. Without you guys, there would be no point in writing any of this, and whenever I hear from one of you guys, it really makes my day. So please, keep on reading, commenting, and loving mysteries!

~ Tiula
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