02 > Gallery of Femininity: The Road to Metamorphosis
"No idea what the cause of death was yet. We're gonna have to wait on an autopsy for that one."
Shale took in a noxious amount of cigarette smoke before speaking. "Got an I.D. yet?"
"Yeah..." Carl stumbled through his notebook like a kid during a pop quiz. "Claire Simpson. College student who moonlights as an... "escort" to pay the tuition."
"Great." Shale's sardonic voice echoed throughout the apartment. "That only narrows the list of potential suspects down to about a million."
Shale's thick brow curved in inquisition. He hated cases like these. Hell, he hated most cases, but the weird ones especially. Of course, they were all starting to seem weird. It made him long for the days when he was working vice. He liked to blame it on Cerveni, but that wasn't realistic. Of course, very little was these days.
Claire had that face (and body,) that said "innocence." Or, at least, the kind of innocence most would think of as "Sex Kitten." She was good at the image too, it would seem. Right down to her choice of knickers. The apartment was immaculate. It looked like the kind of place a woman who did Claire's sort of job would go with a client. A place manufactured to mix in with her product. She sold something, and she tried to sell something high class. She took business classes, or so Shale learnt as his partner shoved information about her infront of his face, obstructing his view. His cigarette nearly caught the pages in flame.
"Girl like this certainly knows how to sell. A shame she was selling herself."
Shale had been talking out loud to himself. Of course, Carl had answered, but Shale didn't care. He was absorbed in his work by now, as he flapped the pages away from him and focused his attention.
Claire hadn't a mark on her. She was alabaster in the dim flourescent glow of the bulbs seven feet above her. Black and red were dangerous colours to mix. They brewed together into a potential for nothing but negative energy. The kind that likes to perpetuate rape and murder. Claire here should have known better...
Shale shook his head for a moment, shook that idea out onto the floor. He cursed himself again for ever listenting to Cerveni's mad rantings.
"What about the butterfly, sir?" Carl pointed at the insect on her chest. "Any idea what that means?"
Shale squinted slowly, as he reached in his pocket for a bag and tweasers. Gently, as smoke puffed from his face in clouds, he pulled the dead butterfly off the girl's chest. Matches the room, he thought.
"Could be a couple things. Could mean that Claire here was fragile. Beautiful, yet fragile. Means he's showing us how easy this was, and is gloating. He's going to do more. At least, that's the meaning that will make it easy to catch him."
"And the other?"
"Means he took her to a better place. Gave her the means to evolve. To achieve metamorphosis. Means he's no where near finished, and he's gonna be as hard as these here butterflies to catch." Shale nearly growled the words, then slowly stood, his knees popping back into place.
"Either way, we'll start by checking with who she worked with and for. Also check the usuals: Classmates, friends, boyfriends. You know the drill."
Carl simply nodded. "This one's not going to be easy. This is a girl that kept her secrets. Had to make sure that mom and dad never knew about what she had to do in order to keep going."
"You think that's really it? You think she had no choice but to fall into this? There are plenty of girls working the trade that have it worse than she did. Who had less of a choice."
"Maybe... all I'm saying is it's gonna be hard. She lived her life like a fuckin' masquerade. She kept her lives from everyone. She had everyone fooled. No one's gonna know anything."
"No one except the guilty, Carl. No one except the guilty."
Carl had moved onward a moment later. The cops were going through everything. Shale just stared for a long while at Claire's dead eyes. Damn you, girl. You're not going to make this easy on me, are you? Why'd you have to be so damned lost in your own lies? Why did they have to kill you?
Shale waited for an answer to his thoughts just long enough for them to really begin to gnaw at him. It was about that time that he left the crime scene in very rotten mood.
(GALLERY OF FEMININITY: A collection of images of various women from the LiveJournal Random Image Generator turned to Stories. Short blurbs that are introspection into how Women affect men, society, and vice versa. I don't know how long this will last per se, but I hope to have one a week until it is done.)
all but the image is (c) 2004 Eric Logan Taylor.
[01 > Night Cap.]