Part one:

Pieces

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12:25 in the afternoon. California time. The dreary, smog filled sky hung slightly heavier over this light brown Ranch house located 35 miles north of San Pedro. A picturesque little abode with chrome plated water drainage pipes encircling the black topped roof. The outer light brown paneling was offset by white frames and empty plant holders. The windows gave no idea to the type of person who resided here. Not a speck of dirt or any traces of age. Probably one of those new prefabs that have been finding places all over the suburbs. The grass was of a color green that could almost be mistaken for Astroturf.

The mailbox didn't even have numbers placed on it. Just the shadows of the places where they would be. She must have been just settling into her new surroundings. The police didn't help the outer decor much, with their cars parked on her lawn like those ugly little gnomes people placed at the edge of their property, and near their houses. So many cops that you could blink and hit one with an eye lash.

In neighborhoods like this, minding your own business wasn't common practice, it was common law. But, with all the police and yellow tape spread around like so many broken pieces of glass, people couldn't help but be curious. The inside of this place made the same statement as the outside. Half-opened boxes and foam packaging material decorated the floor in spots where newly arrived crates had been placed. Forensic experts dusted the place down. Detectives walked through this place like thieves at night. The body lay exposed in a position one would consider a comfortable sleeping spot. Her throat was slit like the smile on a Bookie's face after collecting. This was just the beginning of a more complicated case than I would have thought from the start.

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Part one:

Pieces

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ONE
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