The Lady In Red - Chapter One

Chapter One
The room was dark. A hushed silence fell upon the eyes watching from within. Plumes of cigarette smoke of changing hues lingered in the air. A vintage sound track, Lady in Red, began to play. Colored lights blinked in unison to the romantic rhythmic beat. A tall silver pole stood erect in the center of the stage. Its polished surface reflecting the lights the shone about the stage. A cloud of mist hovered on the stage before cascading over the edge. A spotlight beamed a large white disc onto the cloud.
Then Chelsea stepped into the floating white orb. Vibrant red heels penetrating it translucent surface. She had stepped into her world. And for that moment in time, ceased to be the other person. Liberated from the demands of the outside world. In her world, she demanded complete attention. The allure of sex stirred her senses as she began to gyrate in time with the music. Lost in the rhythm. Lost in a temporal world of desire. Her slender East European body moving in seductive ways. Taunting and seducing the depraved souls that watched on. Her near naked body beginning to glisten with sweat from the heat of the lights. The spot light would capture her. Then release her. Teasing those who wanted more. It would follow her every move. It would not allow her escape.
Reaching for the pole she grips its steely shaft. And swings around it. Letting the momentum and the mood take her to forbidden places in her mind. Grinding herself along its icy length to relieve an irritation. She would lure them closer. Only to push them away. Their nostrils flaring. Taking in the sweet smell of exoticness, and fragrant cigarette smoke. Reaching between her breasts she released them from their confinement. The spot light illuminating the near perfect pillows. Sensitive buds excited by the rush of warm air upon them. Illicit eyes feasted on her youthful Romanian beauty. Long legs and the smooth curves excited the watching imaginations. Allowing their fantasies to dance with her. To possess her. Just for that moment. She was theirs.
But the titillation would soon be coming to an end. She had a captured her prey the moment she had stepped onto the stage. Now she it was time to put the prey out of their misery. As easily as she had released her breasts, she released her silk red panties. Revealing what made her different from most of the leering voyeurs. Moving her fingers over her body as if to suggest the simulation of arousal. On occasions, stimulation would replace simulation. Few would ever be allowed to go there. But those that did, would pay handsomely for the pleasure.
By night she was Chelsea. An exotic dancer at a Gentleman’s Club called Rudi’s. The nocturnal world a gratification of her sexual desires. By day she was Kristina. A New York Police Detective. Tired and beat. Tying back her long dark hair she could transform herself. Little or no make-up would complete the disguise. Rudi’s clientele would struggle to recognize her. Catching the subway to Downtown New York to the crowded 91st Precinct. Suspects sat handcuffed. Wresting with restraints. And creating incessant chatter. Her desk littered with unsolved cases. Only to have another appear the next day. A rubbish bin littered with paper coffee cups. Discards of her daily diet. Only to have another discarded a moment later. To the officers in blue around her she appeared as burnt out as they were. Her nocturnal existence
sapping her diurnal energy. She wondered how much longer she could hold the façade of balancing the two worlds. To satisfy the craving for each.
As a detective she would try get into the minds of murderers and drug dealers. They would be arrested and charged. Only to have their cases thrown out of court on a technicality. A judicial dance of inequity. One step forward. One step sideways. And two steps back. It was a dance she knew all too well.
Many of her clientele at Rudi’s had criminal associations. And on occasions, after weakening their inhibitions, they would confess their secrets to her. Their Sins. Appearing inept. Listening to their confessions in silence. Unsure whether they were boosting or seeking absolution. Crimes of passion she could almost excuse. It was not her place to judge. If a John found redemption in talking. If verbalizing the misdeed would vindicate it. Then let them talk. Satisfied that they had excised their demons. She would stare into the little boy’s eyes. Offer a kiss of atonement. Then arouse them and make them a man again.
The telephone rang. Kristina was reluctant to answer it. And she lifted the handle.
“Tepes speaking.” She answered, knowing it could only be dispatch calling her out on another dead-end scene. A bloody murder. Unusual circumstances. Probably be a drug deal gone wrong in Midtown. “I’ll be there soon. Don’t touch anything! … And keep the media clowns away.” She instructed and hung up.
“Woland!” Calling out to a rookie detective in battle with the coffee machine, “Grab your coat! You’re coming with me!”
“Where we heading boss?” Enquired Woland, keen to get out of the office.
“Midtown. Bake house of some sort. One dead. Land lady found him this morning when she went looking for the rent. That’s all I know at this stage. I want you to stand back and observe? Keep out of my way while I look around.” Kristina barked at her junior.
“Yes boss.”
Kristina initiated the propulsion system of the unmarked squad car. Setting the designated coordinates the vehicle’s automated piloting system took over. An artificial voice advised an arrival time. The vehicle hovered and joined the flow of traffic heading uptown.
With lights flashing, Kristina pulled the squad car to the curb of the apartment building. Police rimmed the entrance. People had begun to gather, curious as to what might have happened. A lone officer stood frigid at the front entrance. Flashing their badges he waved them through with little attention to their credentials.
The cold wind ceased once inside. Kristina could see people were milling about. Mostly media loitering for leads. They would have to wait. An officer indicted the top floor. Heading to the elevators, hoping they were worked.
“Press seven would you Woland.” Asked Kristina, “Remember … stand back and keep everyone else away. I don’t want the scene messed up for forensics … more than it probably has already.” Knowing the heavy footed officers who would have trodden on over most of the scene by now.
“Yes boss.”
The lift stopped at the top floor and the doors opened. Another officer stood at the doorway of the apartment. Flashing their badges at him they entered. The front door suggested no forced entry. Police tape marked out perimeters and Kristina quickly surveyed the scene. She had little time to assess how it could have gone down before Forensics would arrived. A uniformed officer
stood outside the bedroom door. The crime scene. But this was no longer a bedroom. It appeared to be a laboratory for baking drugs. A twisted body laid face up on the floor. Its chest riddled by several bullets. White powder covered the floor having spilt from an upturn table. A struggle she thought. Enquiring from an officer why the room felt unusually cold. An officer explains the land lady found the window open when she discovered the body. But had closed it before calling the police. She began to think. The perp had opened the window to contaminate the crime scene. He knew what he was doing. And how to get away with it. Patting the man down Kristina discovers an empty wallet and pulls out an identity card.
“Scan this will you.” Handing Woland the white identification.
Waving the card over his sensor, Woland waits a moment before the deceased details appeared on screen.
“Boris Becker … Male … 34 … Unemployed … German national. Drug convictions. Trafficking and possession.” Woland recited Becker’s record. “I’ve scanned the room … Analysis reveals the white powder is a combination of Cocaine and K9 ... commonly referred to on the street as Candy.”
“He’s a long way from home. Wonder what brings him to town? Seems he’s stepped up in the world … and moved into manufacturing … Profile the room for prints and run them through the database ... Scan the body for bullet fragments and other injuries … Oh and find out the location of his known associates. Forensics can have it from here.”
“Yes boss.” Responds Woland left wondering where to begin.
Red beams radiated from Woland’s scanner. Mapping the room and its contents. Providing a three dimensional imaging of the scene. Kristina looked about for anything that looked out of place. Unless she had solid leads the case would go unsolved. Not that it would matter. Boris was just another low life perp and probably got what he deserved. No one would lose any sleep over him. It was her job to do the paperwork and tie off any loose ends. Becker’s demise would be entered into the database to provide a holistic synopsis of his criminal activity.
“Done.” Called out Woland.
“We need to speak with the land lady who found your friend Boris. Then we’ll get out of here.” Directed Kristina, keen to leave the cold room and back to the warmth of the Precinct. Just then forensics appeared at the scene.
“All yours Debbie. Let me know if you find anything interesting.” Kristina instructed the Lead of the forensic team.
“I’ll keep you posted Kristina.” Said the Forensic Lead stepping around Becker’s twisted body.
The land lady sat in a large comfy arm chair. A cat was curled up on her lap purring contently as she stroked it. The room felt tropical after being in Becker’s apartment.
“Ms Hutchinson I presume? … I’m Detective Tepes. This is Detective Woland. I understand you found the body?” Kristina asked, showing her badge briefly.
“That’s right.” She confirmed.
“What can you tell us about Boris Becker?” Kristina asked hoping the landlady would fill in some of the missing pieces.
“I hadn’t heard from Boris for a while … you see … and he’s always so prompt with his rent you know … Always pays in cash ... He was such a nice man ... Then I goes upstairs to check on him … and there he is … on the floor. Oh I didn’t know what to do … Poor Boris … I don’t
know how long he had been there. His room was very cold … he’d left the window open … Such a lovely man you know ... Always paid his rent on time.” The land lady began to repeat.
“Did you see any suspicious people go upstairs before today?” Enquired Kristina further.
“No … not really ...” She hesitates trying to recollect, but draws a blank. “Guests and visitors coming and going all the time … So long as they pay their rent and keep to themselves … I keep to myself. He was such lovely man you know … our Boris.” Said the land lady.
“Did you know he was involved in drugs?” Kristina enquires.
“Oh no … not Boris … he was such a nice man … he would never be involved with drugs … not our Boris …no …” She replied, but then wondered what the powder was that had spilt onto the floor. Then asks, “Who would have done this to him?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out. Do you have any security cameras in the building?” asked Kristina.
“Oh no … no … I don’t understand technology these days. It left me behind years ago.” The land lady looked at Kristina confused.
“I understand. If you recall anything … here are my details, contact on me this number okay?” And Kristina handed the land lady her card.
“Would you like some tea? My nephew sent me some from England you know.” The land lady urged Kristina to stay a little longer for company.
“I’d love to … but we have to go. Maybe another time.” Said Kristina politely declining the offer, “We best be off to continue the investigation.” Said Kristina reluctantly. Hesitant to leave the warmth of the room and back into the frigid environment outside.
The squad car re-joined the flow of traffic heading downtown. And automatically glided itself into the allotted parking space outside the Precinct. Back at their desks, Woland ran the scans and traced the locations of Becker’s criminal associates. And Kristina began to assemble the report into the death of Boris Becker. The Database search revealed his past criminal record and activities. Piecing together a legacy of drugs and arrests over his brief life-span.
The G7 had implemented a Global Surveillance Protocol. The ever-seeing eye of big brother was everywhere. Bio-metric recognition had made it possible to track people. Knowing the location of criminal’s associates at the time of a crime made it easier to eliminate them. Or incriminate them. Running the algorithm on Becker revealed his known associates were half way around the world in Germany at the time of his death. Their alibis were rock solid. Accessing the street cameras around the apartment block also revealed very little. People’s faces were covered with scarfs. Snow drifts hampered getting any clear images. Whoever had killed Boris was a user she thought. They had killed him for his stock of Candy. Why buy it when you can get it for free.
“Anything back on the ballistics from the bullet fragments?” Kristina quizzed Woland.
“Just running that as we speak. Should have something soon … No residual prints other than the Becker’s. The person who did this knew what they wanted. Where to find it. And got out. Given how he always pays his rent in cash we can assume they also emptied his wallet.” Said Woland adding his thoughts.
Just then Worland’s computer spat an image onto the screen. And immediately shared it with Kristina’s. The image showed the fragmented bullet in its reconstructed state.
“Hmm … an EMP-Semi-45.” Kristina read the specifications displayed to the side.
A common enough weapon among perps. Tracking it down would take time. History was everything with the protocol system. History passes, but was never forgotten. The ballistic will
come up again sometime in the future. A match would be found and the Database would be integrated. Placing the wrong people, at the wrong place, at the wrong time.
“Get forensics to run ballistic match through from the Database ... We’ll see what pop’s up.” She advised Woland.
“Already onto it boss.” Advised Woland busily taping his keyboard initiating the search.
“We better wait for forensics to come back to us. Stamp it up as pending for now.”
Kristina conceded a momentary defeat. But knew in time the perp would reoffend and reappear on the radar for her to pull in. Locating the individual would not be difficult. Apprehending them was another matter altogether. And with that Woland stamped the case file “PENDING” in bold red ink.
“What next boss?” Asked Woland keen for another investigation.
“Coffee! Now!” Kristina commands her deputy.