Corner Case

            Detective Bernie Landrum arrived at the crime scene at the corner of Park St. & Lily St. a little later than usual. He was almost always the first CSI to get to the crime scene. But he had been feeling drowsy that morning and decided to take his sweet time. This was very unlike Bernie. As he lifted the yellow caution tape over his head, his partner, Walt Kerns, walked up and began briefing him on the situation. Walt was older than Bernie. He was a quiet, reserved man. Bernie and Walt had been partners for almost five years. It seemed so much less to Bernie when he thought back on it. All those cases they solved together, all the criminals they locked up. And today was just another day.

“We got an Asian male, somewhere in his late teens. The C.O.D. was blunt force trauma to the skull. One of the residents found him in that truck a few hours ago. But the coroner said that the T.O.D. was about ten hours ago. I’m guessing he was killed somewhere else and brought here.”

            “You got a name for the vic’ yet?” grumbled Landrum.

            “Not yet, but we’re working’ on it.” Kerns replied.

            “Keep up the good work Walt,” replied Bernie.

The two detectives exchanged words for a moment longer and then Bernie went to go check out the body. The crime scene was behind a row of five apartments in the backyard/parking lot. When he first got around the bend in the driveway he thought there must be a mistake because he didn’t see anyone. But then he saw that most people were gathered around a rusting Ford that looked as if it had been sitting there for the last twenty years. It was nestled in the far corner of the lot and the closer Bernie came to the car, the stronger the smell became. He leaned in and peered into the truck. He could see a pair of legs and a torso sticking out of a pile of assorted junk. The smell made Landrum want to puke on the spot. There wasn’t much to do at the scene. It looked as if the unit had been there for a while. He wrapped up by taking the last few picture of the evidence and the trash in the car. Finally, they all pulled the body out of the truck. There were many deep gashes and bruises on the victims head. One gash was in a very distinct crescent shape. Bernie asked Walt what he thought it was.

“Could be some sort of garden tool. What do you think?”

“No. It’s too big and too deep. It must have been something bigger. Did you find anything like that in that truck?” Bernie replied.

“I don’t think so but I’ll check when I can,” Walt said.

It was a short East-Asian male with long wavy hair. His hair was dried up and caked in blood and it looked like horse hair now. The deceased teenager was carried to an ambulance and driven away. Bernie and Walt walked back to his car discussing the case and the possible suspects or witnesses. They decided to question the residents of the apartments and defiantly see if the diner next to the apartments or the corner store across the street saw anything suspicious.

The store owner was quite the character. He was a loud, fast-talking Middle Eastern man named Mohammed who had a very thick accent. He complained about the no-good neighbors in the apartments across the street along with many other things. But he was altogether no help.

“I no see anything. It must be the neighbors. They are always up to no good. I think they’re selling drugs.”

They questioned him a bit more about the neighbors and whether he had seen anything out of the ordinary the last couple of nights. After he thought for a second, he remembered that there had been a fight in the backyard lot the previous night. Mohammed had thought nothing of it because there were always fight back there. After a good long talk with Mohammed, they crossed the street to go ask around in the diner. The employees in the diner had nothing but bad things to say about the residents but had seen nothing seeing as the previous day was a Sunday and they weren’t open. They crossed the third corner to give these neighbors that they heard so much about a visit. The first two apartments were empty and nobody answered. Bernie wasn’t worried. He knew there were plenty of people processing the crime scene. He decided to leave and go back to the station to shake off his sleepiness.

On his way back to the station, Landrum stopped at the local coffee shop where all the cops went to get coffee, doughnuts and whatever else they felt like. The owner was any ex-cop and gave all officers a generous discount. He ordered a cup of coffee and some hash browns. He remembered that he hadn’t eaten all day and it was already three in the afternoon. This wasn’t unusual for Bernie. He was often too busy to eat three, even two meals a day. He sipped the coffee slowly while shoveling the hash browns into his mouth. When he was finished he left a twenty dollar bill on the table, which was a very generous tip for the waitress, and then left. He turned on the engine and let his Jeep Cherokee warm up in the cold misty winter afternoon. He was deciding whether to go to the house to relax or go to the bar and see if anyone was over there.

The next day at the station, everyone was analyzing evidence from the crime scene from the day before. It was mostly a whole bunch of garbage seeing as the truck was filled with the stuff. They couldn’t figure out who to include or exclude because there was about a billion different people’s DNA on the trash. They concluded that the victim was killed by a blow to the back of the head and was dragged to the car after he was dead. So the truck wasn’t actually the crime scene. They knew that the body couldn’t have been dragged too far. They had to go back and re-check the surrounding area.

Bernie and a few other detectives went over to the crime scene later that day. They started in the backyard and worked their way out towards the store and the diner. They looked in the back yard of the diner were the bathroom was, But they didn’t find anything. When they crossed the street, Landrum went and asked Mohammed if he could look around behind the store.

“If it’s ok with the resident,” Mohammed replied.

“What? What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the man who rents the back. He lives back there. I think he’s home right now. Bernie quickly pushed open the gate and took about six long strides before he got to the back door that apparently led to a one bedroom, one bathroom flat. The dame stench of trash filled Bernie’s nose but then he realized that it was just the dumpster next to the door. With a firm, commanding fist, Landrum knocked on the door without hesitation.

“Open up! Police! We just need to ask a few questions.”

“Hold On. I’ll be right there,” a high-pitched, male voice replied.

As Landrum anxiously waited for the man to open come and open the door. He noticed a red mark on the ground sticking out from where under the dumpster was. It was unusually close to the front door. Could he be hiding something?

“Walt! Help me push this dumpster over.”

Together the moved the dumpster aside, revealing the red streaks on the ground. Walt and Bernie both shot each other looks of hidden exclamation. As soon as the man opened the door, he was grabbed by both cops and detained. Walt swabbed the red substance and held it up to place a drop of blue liquid on the q-tip. As soon as te blue drop hit the q-tip the whole thing turned bright red.

“ I knew It,” exclaimed Landrum.