“I’m getting too old for this kind of stuff,” Gregory Stanton said aloud, to nobody in particular. He was pacing back and forth across his office, though there wasn’t much room to move around in. The desks and tables were littered with scattered files and sheets of paper and gave any occupant of the room the feeling of suffocation. However, Gregory showed no signs of discomfort, whether it was because he had grown accustomed to it, or because he was just too tired to concern himself with such silly things.
As he followed the same path starting from his desk, to the opposite side of the room and back again, Gregory put his head in his hands. The reason he had quit the force back in 2003 and left New York was because of the constant migraines he had been having and unfortunately they had not ceased even when he arrived in West Palm Beach, Florida. After working on the force for twenty years, Gregory had looked forward to a nice retirement in sunny Florida because hey, how much trouble can there be in a place full of old people? His reputation as a prestigious detective had quickly spread and before he knew it, it was the year 2008 and he was still solving crimes. What had started out as a favor here and there had gotten out of hand due to Gregory’s inability to say no and in no time at all, he was checking out house robberies and kidnappings. So, Gregory figured that if he was going to be forced to help, he might as well start charging for it.
Gregory suddenly stopped pacing and turned his attention to the only file that was open on his desk. The folder contained a photograph of the body of a 15 – year – old boy. His face was barely recognizable with the amount of scrapes and cuts on his face and the blood that had come from those wounds. In addition, there was a long ugly slash across his neck that had resulted in his death. Another photograph showed the broken half of a bloody glass beer bottle which was definitely the murder weapon. Having studied these photographs a million times in the past few months, Gregory’s barely glanced at them and instead concentrated the new piece of paper that he had received that morning. It was the results from the forensics lab that he had been waiting on for nearly three weeks. Gregory had to admit that it was worth the wait.
Since Gregory was a private detective, he always had to wait awhile for any of his evidence to get processed and tested. The strand of long, brown hair and the fingerprints collected at the scene were immediately sent into the lab and Gregory anxiously awaited the answers. Gregory’s anticipation stemmed more from his desire to solve this crime as quickly as possible and to get it over with, but that singular sheet of paper on his desk told him that this case was more complex and time consuming than he thought. The hair and fingerprints didn’t match anyone that was in the system; however, these pieces of evidence did match the evidence found in a completely different case. The case was three years old and had been left unsolved. The victim was a girl whose family had to deal not only with the murder of their child, but in addition, their remaining child had cancer.
Gregory remembered the day he had received the call. A frantic lady by the name of Mrs. Plumber had requested his services when the police were stumped by the murder of her 18 – year – old daughter and had stopped investigating. Gregory was the one who discovered the hair and fingerprints which were apparently overlooked by the police. It was extremely frustrating that even with that evidence the case couldn’t be solved, so Gregory found himself feeling a bit encouraged by this new information that the two murders were linked. However, putting the two photographs of the deceased teens next to each other made him sick to his stomach. Gregory recalled when he had first become a police officer in New York, back when things were simple. A guy got shot, we catch the guy who did it, and we jail him. As the years went by, the crimes began to get sicker and more demented causing Gregory to become jaded and wonder how the world had come to this.
As the nausea subsided, Gregory wondered how much more he could take. It was too late to quit now, though, he had already started this case. Gregory sat quietly as he weighed his options. It seemed pointless to run the evidence through the system again but he supposed it wouldn’t hurt to do it again just in case. In addition, he decided to run the hair and fingerprints through the systems of other states. There was a possibility that the killer did not live in Florida. Gregory picked up the phone and made the call.
A week later, Gregory found himself in New York, the same hell he had escaped from years before. The hair sample had gotten a hit in the New York system and Gregory had rushed off to investigate. The NYPD had been alerted and had brought Crystal Turner into the station and was waiting for Gregory to arrive for his questioning. Gregory noted that she was young, barely out of college, with chin length brown hair, a heart-shaped face a confused look in her dark brown eyes. She certainly doesn’t look like a murderer, but who knows these days, Gregory thought.
“When was your last trip to Palm Beach, Ms. Turner?”
Crystal looked up at him, looking completely shocked. “You’re kidding, right?”
“I assure you, I am in no joking mood,” he said, slightly irked.
“I have never been to Florida. In fact, I’ve never been outside the state! I’m scared to death of airplanes. My passport has been expired for like ten years.”
“Then tell me, how did your hair end up in two different crime scenes in West Palm Beach?”
“I don’t know. How would I know? I’ve lived in New York my whole life and I’m pretty sure I would remember if I had gone to another state.”
Gregory felt that this was going nowhere. He looked into her eyes and thought that he could see her honesty, but experience had taught him that liars came in all shapes and sizes. “You wouldn’t mind helping me prove your story, then? If you would let me search your house, see your passport, and talk to your family it would really help.”
The girl looked him straight in the eyes and replied, “Sure. Even though I think this is a total invasion of privacy, go ahead. I have nothing to hide.”
Gregory arrived at the house in Flushing, Queens, right across from the huge field near Kissena Park. I remember when I found a body there in all that tall grass, Gregory thought, but his attention was quickly brought back to where he was at the moment. The house was small but incredibly neat, and Gregory began to look around the living room. Not knowing exactly what he was looking for, Gregory dug through the mail and other documents on the shelves. He noticed an old picture hanging on the wall, of a slightly younger Crystal with long hair almost reaching her butt. On one of the shelves, proudly displayed, was a card from one of those foundations that take donated hair and make them into wigs. Gregory snatched up the card and asked, “Where did you get this from?”
Crystal smiled. “Oh, they sent that to me after I donated my hair three years ago. I’ve kept my hair short ever since.”
Gregory picked up the card and looked for contact information. He wasn’t exactly sure how this clue was relevant, but it definitely explained how Crystal’s hair could’ve gotten anywhere without her knowledge. Gregory dialed the number and asked the receptionist, “Excuse me, where is your organization located?”
“West Palm Beach, Florida,” was her reply.
Gregory, along with a team of police officers in Florida was headed toward the Plumber residence. Gregory had gotten a hold of the recipient list from the organization and was no surprised when he saw the name “Nina Plumber” on the list. Gregory had discovered that not only did Nina have a connection to her sister, but she also went to school with the boy that was recently murdered. Gregory had immediately called the police, requesting back up.
The look on the Plumbers’ face was of complete shock and horror when they opened the door to see a dozen police officers on their lawn. Mrs. Plumber recognized Gregory’s face and asked, “Do you have news about what happened to Serena?” The hopeful look on Mrs. Plumber’s face made Gregory feel guilty about what he was about to say.
“Mrs. Plumber, we have reason to believe that Nina was involved in Serena’s death.”
“What? Are you actually accusing my 17 year old daughter of murdering her own sister?”
“We have a warrant for your daughter’s wig and her fingerprints.”
“I can not believe this! After all we’ve gone through! We’re going to call our lawyer and sue you for harassment…”
“Mom, there’s no need.”
Everyone turned and saw Nina, who had slipped in quietly during the chaos. She stood there, frail and washed out, wearing the brown haired wig. “I admit it. I killed her.”
All the color drained from Mrs. Plumber’s face. “W-w-hat did you say?”
Nina smirked. “Nobody thought that I was capable of anything, did they? Who would suspect poor little me? Mom, I know that you pity me. You were all happy and proud of Serena because she was graduating and going off to some wonderful college while you’re stuck here taking care of me. Serena thought that she was better than me, and she flaunted all the things I didn’t have in my face. She deserved to die.” Gregory was disgusted by the twisted, hateful look on the girl’s face. She was still only a child and yet, she had murdered her own sister without an ounce of regret. “What about the boy?”
Nina smiled wider. “You mean Vincent? Of course it was me. He was always partying and drinking beer. I mean, what an insult to me. Here I am, dying of cancer and he’s voluntarily giving himself liver cancer. I followed him and used one of his very own bottles to slice his neck open. Isn’t it ironic?”
As the officers handcuffed the girl she yelled, “Don’t you get it? It doesn’t even matter! I have cancer and I’ll be dead before I can even serve time!”
Gregory walked away from the scene, realizing that he was done. He didn’t have the energy left to take on this warped, unjust world where a girl could commit two murders and get away with it. Gregory turned around once more, and saw the twisted smile still plastered on the girl’s face. That smile would haunt him for the rest of his life.