COUNTING DOWN THE YEARS

CRIME SCENE

I feel cheated like I'm living a life that is not mine and I'm not talking about reincarnation or anything. Reincarnation? Where did that come from? These movies will ruin my life. I know I've heard it before recently after the  movie series I watched,  somewhere but I don't remember where . It's crazy because I think everyone must have heard about it. 

What I'm talking about is, I went to bed fine after a usual donkey work at the office which I left last. Like usual. Then I wake up to a normal day whose normalcy ended as soon as I stepped in the office. And now I have to dig up some dirt to keep my internship. How everything is my fault, I don't know .

I have been lied to. How did everything abruptly change, without warning and straight to worst? I don't even get time to throw me a pity party. I have to think fast. I have to find something, anything just to get the woman off my hair for a while. So here I stand behind the famous yellow line along with like a million other people trying to peek at the hotel. And it's more chaotic than I give it credit for. 

Police vehicles trash the place and them too trying to keep civilians back, rushing in and out of the place, talking to the media and most importantly acting smart and important. I don't stand a chance. I'll never get anything out of here. Every other journalist here looks hungry for info and the police look particularly invested in not feeding the info. They look like they are enjoying it too. 

I take a huge breath. I should just sag my shoulders and drag my feet back to my apartment, this is pointless. But a part of me wants to fight. I was born a fighter. So I have to come up with something. What is that thing they say to do in an exam room when the paper is too hard... 

Look up for inspiration, down for desperation and never sideways. Something in those lines. So let me try it. I catch some movement from the corner of my eye and do what not to in an exam room. Glad I did because, bingo! 

I jog up to some guy carrying many bags and some camera around his neck  . A jacket written 'CSI ' on .I smile knowing I've just found my way out. Phew! And that just happened. 

"Hey, need some help? " I ask already taking a bag from him. 

"Uh... Hi... That uh! Okay.  " He says confused. 

Booya! I get a navy blue CSI jacket. Looks like I just got me a new job. 

So I get rid of my press pass and follow the guy through the crowd of journalists to the police barricade. 'Crime scene don't cross' line I mean. He gives the police his credentials and he's let in. When I follow him, some officer stops me. The CSI guy keeps going and I want to call him but I don't even know his name. The manners in me! 

Luckily he turns around to see me bargaining with the officer and so he comes back. 

"Officer this is my intern. She's with me. " He says with a wide grin. 

I sure am. The officer stares hard at me before letting me through and some journalists take advantage of this to try and get in. Let's just say I'm glad to not be in their shoes. Imagine agitated press versus pissed off police. Recipe for disaster! And police really like to get physical. 

I want to laugh so hard with joy knowing this is me walking into the crime scene. It's like a dream come true. I'm going to get some dirt and more. I might just keep my job! This feels so good. I know this is a person dead. Don't judge me but I have to do my job. I have bills to pay. That doesn't justify my actions but aren't we all just trying to survive after all? 

I push my raging thoughts away as we get into the building. More and more yellow lines. More and more officers. At the lobby I see a woman in room service uniform being comfortable by an officer and another taking down notes. 

Poor woman, she looks so shaken up. I would too when I see a dead body. I haven't yet and hope not to any time soon. Damn! I didn't think things through here. What if I scream like a mad person or throw up or run away? 

We go upstairs where people seem to be going or coming from. Sometimes I forget just how lazy I am. And how endless stairs can be when carrying bags heavier than any elephant. Give me a break, you use lifts. 

"So... " The guy starts. 

"So? " I ask panting heavily trailing behind him. 

"What's your name? I'm Kane. " He says turning around to face me with a bright smile. 

Is he just this nice or he doesn't know any other expressions. 

"Anne. Nice to meet you. "

"You too. So why are you really here ? I mean, I know you are helping me but I found you here already. Not complaining, just wondering what a pretty girl like you would be doing here, so early... "

"Kane calm down. I just want to help. Don't over think it. "

"Okay. So looks like the room we want is not that hard to find. After you. "

Pretty girls shouldn't wake up early and they can't be in places where the mayor is dead and people just want answers. I repeat... 

"Hey, watch it! " Someone yells at me snapping me out of my internal rants .

A scream gets caught in my throat from the fright. I realize I was about to step on a blood stained pillow. The blood is dried up . I look around guiltily and slightly embarrassed. Grabbing the spotlight is never a thing I would take thrill on. 

"Who is this and what is she doing here? " Another person asks. 

He looks like a detective even when I don't see his badge and gun. But his presence here and his aura give him away. Plus he's asking questions like he's the boss here. 

"She's with me. " Kane says brightly pulling me to his side, " My intern. I'm the CSI . " He then pulls me even closer, "Try not to touch or step on anything please. Everything needs to stay exactly as is. Give me this bag. "

"Kane, keep your little girlfriend from contaminating my crime scene. " Some woman says from behind us startling me a little. 

We both turn to look at her and she has her eyes behind me. So I look at my hand leaning on a chair. I needed the support from how tight and close Kane is holding me but who needs to stand on two feet, right? Not only ballerinas stand on tippy toes comfortably.  I quickly withdraw my hand. I won't survive in here I swear. 

Kane takes his bag and the other and empties it all. He starts placing the little numbered yellow things across the room. Takes a couple of pictures. I follow him trying to act like his intern. But when he goes to the body covered under white sheets on the bed, I back off. I would say it's the smell of rotting flesh that threw me off but I'm naturally I scared chicken when it comes to these things. No one likes dead decomposing humans, right? 

"So what is your theory Kane? " The woman from earlier asks. 

"Intern, give me some  specimen bottles and  a spatula . " Kane instructs putting on some blue gloves and all eyes are on me. 

What is a specimen bottle? Way to get me on the spotlight again Kane. I blink like something fell in my eyes. Then take the opportunity to put on some gloves as I try to remember how a specimen bottle looks like from my distant memory of high school practical sessions. I don't remember ever using a specimen bottle though. Looks like I wasted a part of my life in chemistry class. 

"This body is like three days old. There are eggs, larvae and a few adult flies. The life circle of flies takes about seven days. The adult flies laid these eggs which have already hatched into maggots and there is more eggs. Our guy went cold days ago. " 

Ew that sounds so gross! I should never had come here. But at least I have new info that the mayor died three days ago. From life cycle of houseflies. How crazy is that! When did my life become so adventurous. I hand him what I think is a specimen bottle and from how distractedly he takes it and scoops maggots in his hands to put it in the bottle I must be right. Someone give me a science fair medal. 

"Whomever murdered this guy must be a very cold person. My guess is that the murder weapon is a serrated double edged dagger or something. They literally drilled through the poor guy's gut. Must have been very painful. That bloody pillow close to the door, the lipstick drawing of that smiley face on the vanity mirror is a message of a kind I think this is a kind of crime of passion and the fallen furniture seem to show struggle. There is no blood anywhere else so that means he was killed in bed. "

"Unfortunately the security feed for activities on this floor was compromised two days to the supposed homicide. The officers are questioning all the employees. "The male detective from earlier speaks. 

"I'll look for prints or anything else, any breadcrumbs at all. " Kane says excitedly. 

This is plain awkward! I need to leave before I lose my mind. So I discreetly take a picture of the room . If this is what happens in crime scenes then I'm glad I went for journalism. 

"Hey, I'll just visit the bathroom. " I whisper to Kane intending not to interrupt him in his bubble. 

But of course they all get my attention. So I exit awkwardly not waiting to see or hear anything from them. I need to get back to the office and secure my job. Mayor died about three days ago and looks like this is love turned sour. Seems too personal. I hope they catch the bad guy. How dare they leave a smiley face drawn with lipstick on the vanity mirror. That is just too cold. 

It's like telling the police that they got nothing on them. I feel like this murderer is a woman because the mayor would be owning lipstick or would it? Maybe she had help from a man who knows. There could be a chain of murderers. Maybe I should stay and hear more because there is got to be more. But in there I can't breathe. I don't know if the air is congested or that's me just being paranoid. 

I can't imagine having to do this everyday. Again, I'm glad I went for journalism. It has its ups and downs but I don't get to examine dead people and I'm good with that.