NIGHT 50: F21-F30 HALLWAY
[F23]
Once finished with her dinner Nunnally had reached into her desk drawer in search of her journal, thinking to make some notes while she had nothing more to do than wait for the approach of night (for that was all she had to wait for, certainly-- they wouldn't return again tonight... would they?). Though the journal was there, she found ( Read more... )
Once finished with her dinner Nunnally had reached into her desk drawer in search of her journal, thinking to make some notes while she had nothing more to do than wait for the approach of night (for that was all she had to wait for, certainly-- they wouldn't return again tonight... would they?). Though the journal was there, she found ( Read more... )
The ring the Head Lunatic described wasn't in her possession (as a quick check of her drawers revealed) so she set that out of mind. Was she interested in it? Oh, yes, she was. Would she interrogate the others about it? Most certainly. But right now, that wasn't her main case. Right now, it was dusting the baseball bat which she had now lying on her desk with the fingerprint powder she'd made the other night.
Taking a deep breath, Franziska opened the container of powder and carefully began to dust it over the entirety of the baseball bat. Too much powder and it would fill in the ridges of any fingerprints left, too little and nothing would stand out. She'd seen the detectives and CSI teams do this a million times, though, so taking matters into her own hands was no problem. Or so she hoped. It took all of her concentration to ensure the powder was distributed perfectly and then she had to start the process of dusting. Rather than use a brush (since she didn't really have an adequate one), Franziska chose to carefully blow the powder off.
As expected, the handle of the bat was covered in prints and therefore useless. There were so many fingerprints laced on top of each other that even a full CSI team probably wouldn't be able to make heads or tails of it. The body of the bat had nothing of note except a few stray ones here or there where someone must have tapped it against the palm of their hand. Upon checking those prints against the prints she took from her father, it was clear they didn't match. Which meant there was only one spot left. Turning her eyes to the knob at the end of the handle, Franziska closed her eyes and silently prayed she wouldn't find anything before proceeding.
It only took a moment, but it felt like forever as the dust began to collect and show defined ridges along the end of the handle. A palm print on the knob and fingerprints underneath it - they were faint, but they were there. Franziska pulled out her father's prints and held them close to match.
And then she gathered everything up - carefully wrapping the bat in the cloth again, putting her notes and the printed paper into her journal, grabbing the flashlight and switching it off - before she headed out the door. She had a trial to attend to and now she had the perfect case.
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