This month one of my goals was to dig into the idea journal and look for inspiration. I’m going to be needing a new work-in-progress here shortly and that’s usually where I start. I often reread old ideas, trying to find something that sparks a desire to write more for me. Often, I’ll write something new related to an idea. Either way, months where I did back into the idea journal are always fun!
This month, I managed to find an old piece I’ve never shared here on the blog that I decided to share. To the best of my recollection, this one came from a mystery challenge somewhere. The idea is you are given a few details about a murder case and you write the scene.
Here are the details I was given (recorded on the top of the idea journal page):
- Victim is a male in his late teens.
- The body was found on a film set.
- The victim has been dead for half an hour.
- The victim appears to have been poisoned.
Now, at the time I was writing this particular idea, I was pretty drawn by the idea of a gender-swapped stereotypical police mystery. I have since decided that I am NOT the person to write this idea, at least not yet. But you’ll catch the vibe of what sort of story I’m talking about between the lines of this one.
Let’s get into it. As always, remember work shared here is my original creation. Don’t steal it or use it without permission. Thanks!
Detective Kennedy pulled up on scene and swigged the last dregs of her morning coffee from the paper cup beside her. The bitter taste caused her to grimace and she set it back down. She took her time stepping out of the vehicle, straightening her jacket and her badge as she made her way across the blacktop to the crime tape. A few reporters were already here, swarming around the area. None approached her, which she supposed was a good thing. She didn’t want to be bombarded with questions about her ongoing case, which was making small waves in the local news programs. She’d rather go unrecognized and check on this scene, which she was called in on only as a consultant.
She approached the yellow crime tape and nodded at the uniformed officer standing nearby. She flashed her badge at him. He was young and fit, she noticed. The cut of the uniform shirt flattered the muscles on his upper body nicely. She offered him a small, somber smile. “Lots of eyes in there?” she asked.
He nodded. “Maybe fifteen. Mostly crime scene techs.”
“Perfect. I’m just consulting. You see a Detective Estes around here somewhere?”
He shrugged. “Not familiar with the name, sorry.”
“Tall, hispanic, really straight hair, huge boobs.”
He blushed. “I’m not really …” he stammered.
Kennedy let him off the hook with a wave of her hand. “It’s fine, I’ll find her.”
She made her way around the large painted backdrop, which would be corny in any situation besides a dead body being found on a film set. This is where the bustle of people was mostly concentrated. The kid was right, crime scene techs were making their way around in their coveralls carrying kits or cameras. Some of the action was on the body of a young male, found shirtless and quite dead in the middle of the floor. Still Kennedy observed a few people milling around a table where two glasses and a decanter appeared to be in the process of being fingerprinted.
She made her way around the outskirts of the chaos to stand beside Estes, who nodded in acknowledgement of the new arrival. “Found the place ok, I see,” Estes said.
“Found the biggest film studio within a five mile radius of the precinct, yes.” Kennedy rolled her eyes. “What did you need me for? Looks like the techs are already thinking of poison.” She gestured to the glasses. “I don’t have any open poison cases.”
“Right, but the victim is,” Estes paused to flip open a little book in her hand and consulted something written there. “… a Ralph Carnahan. Reportedly related to your vic with the same last name.”
“Shit. Related how?”
“Brother, according to the witness who found the body.”
“So I get slapped with the brother who is missing and presumed dead and you get the brother likely poisoned.” Kennedy sighed. “We are thinking poison, right?”
“Possible. They sent samples to trace.”
“You think they’re related?”
“I think I just got here. Found a mostly naked guy on the set of a movie. He’s fit, witnesses tell me he’s an extra in the film. I start to wonder if maybe he was trying something to get himself a bigger role, a little extra action with someone who maybe didn’t like the advances. Or maybe he got caught by a spouse, something like that happens all the time in this town. Poison makes sense if it was someone who didn’t like the advances, get him to drink it and the problem is solved. But then the brother connection comes up and I call you. Because that throws my whole theory to shit. I don’t see a way this is cut-and-dry without being connected to your missing guy.”
Kennedy paused to think about all of this. Her missing guy, Dave Carnahan, had been missing and in the news for about a month. About a week ago it had come to light that Dave may have been an escort on the side, that about killed the news coverage. Like it or not the news tended to avoid talking about escorts that put themselves out there in less clothing than most people in order to make a living. There were still a lot of stereotypes out there in the world about their manner of dress “asking for it” and when something like this happened you still had a lot of people who would tell you they “brought it on themselves.” Dave was presumed dead only in the last forty-eight hours, which was bringing the case a little more media attention. Blood matching his blood type had been found in his vehicle in the desert outside of the city. Bad news all around.
“I want to try matching this guy’s DNA to the blood found at my scene, on the down low,” Kennedy said. “See if it’s a familial match to the brother. We didn’t have DNA to run on Dave. All I knew was blood type. This could help.”
“Of course. Anything else? Any leads in your case that seem even a little connected to family or to this business?”
“Not really. This kid, he’s only an extra?”
“What else would he be?”
“Dave was an escort. Could this be a family business?”
“Maybe that links your case to what I was thinking from the jump. Closer, anyway.”
“Maybe.” Kennedy shrugged. “I’m not saying it’s right. I’m just saying nine times out of ten it comes back to sex work with these types. I’ll kick around some sources and see what comes up.”
“I’ll run that DNA for you. Get out of here before the big vultures show up and tie these together because they recognize you. Let’s keep that out of the press for as long as we can:
“I’m gone.” Kennedy waved, put her head down, and made her way directly back to her car. She didn’t look up again until she was leaving the lot.
This was definitely a new wrinkle to iron out. But, on the plus side, this might be something new that helped her crack her case.
That’s all I have on this one so far. As you probably noticed, this one was definitely attempting to use that gender swapped stereotypes I was talking about earlier. We hit on the seasoned cop vibe usually reserved for male characters with Kennedy. We hit on the “they were asking for it” role usually reserved for female victims. I still think this idea has merit. Who knows, maybe I’ll come back to it someday. Not today, though.
Anyway, drop a comment if you happen to know a book out there that already flips these stereotypes like this, I’d love to check it out!
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