The coroner arrived as dawn was breaking. By now, there was a small group of curious pedestrians rubbernecking -- knowing they should look away but were unable to do so. Edmund could never understand why a regular civilian was so fascinated by the horrific manner of a crime - especially murder.
Edmund recognized one of the onlookers as the local newspaper reporter, Harry Jenkins. He was a short, squatty man with a receding hairline, a deceiving smile, and bright hazel eyes. Harry and Edmund graduated high school the same year and chose to stay in their hometown. They were never friends nor enemies but more like acquaintances. Edmund believes the media has an unspoken vindictive against law enforcement, they love to twist the facts and spin it into a juicy story just so they can sell more copies.
He saw an opportunity and approached the crowd wrangled behind the crime scene tape. “Good morning Jenkins,” Edmund says.
“Terrell,” Harry says in response. “What’s happening over there?”
Right to the point, Edmund can see why he likes this man but also despise him at the same time. He gets to the point but is ultimately a wolf wearing sheep’s clothing. There are a few ways he could answer this question, he had to be smart. “Nothing to report at this time. What are you doing here?”
That’s right, turn the questioning back onto him.
Harry smiles, revealing yellowed teeth and crow’s feet creases near his eyes. “I was out taking my morning stroll.”
“Yeah, looks like you dressed perfectly for it,” Edmund checks Harry out from bottom to top. The sneaky snake was wearing starched blue jeans, a clean button-down, and a light brown sports jacket. “Light walking attire, I wear something similar for my daily walks as well.”
Harry’s smile never falters, “I must head right into the office so figured it was easiest to get dressed for the day and walk to work.”
So commences the tango of averting the truth with each question.
Edmund nods gesturing Harry to follow him towards the outskirts of the crowd. These hungry attention seekers can be total leeches with information. Harry catches onto Edmund’s cue and walks to the edge of the tape.
“Come on Harry, how’d you hear about this?” Edmund asks once he’s sure that no one else is paying attention.
Harry looks around and shrugs, “it’s a small town. News travels quickly.”
“And what news did you hear exactly?”
“That a body was found at the banks of the river.”
“Did they mention if the body was dead or alive?”
Harry shifts uncomfortably, in a hushed tone he says. “Dead.”
Edmund was expecting this response, after all, Harry was right. Gold Springs is a small town where everyone likes to spread gossip about what they heard. Eventually, that so-called harmless chatter turns to poison that can butcher anyone’s reputation and in some cases, ruin someone’s life. The Terrell’s are all too familiar with this toxic poison.
“So who told you this?”
That deceiving smile full of yellowed teeth returns, “come on Terrell. I can’t reveal my sources. You of all people should know that.”
Before Edmund can reply, a yell comes from behind him. “Officer Terrell, we need you.”
“Duty calls. Harry enjoy your morning stroll,” Edmund says while turning away.
“I heard she was stabbed straight through the heart.”
The blood in Edmund’s veins freezes as if he was about to meet the Maker himself. No one knew that information. The coroner had just arrived at the scene. Of course, at first glance of the victim, anyone could see the pooling blood near the chest. But how would a civilian know the actual death was caused by a stab to the heart? Unless that source was the one who witnessed it or even worse, committed the crime.
With a turn on his heels, Edmund was once again facing the local news reporter. “That’s a very specific detail, who told you that?”
“So it’s true. The stab to the heart killed her?”
“I cannot release that information.”
“That’s a yes then?”
This conversation was getting out of control. As usual, the media was being manipulative to gather any type of information. If Edmund didn’t choose his next words wisely, the whole crime scene would be printed on the front page before the victim’s body fully cooled. Sometimes, body language was more impactful than words. Edmund straightened his posture, shoulders back and strong, strategically placing his hands on the belt. One hand rested on the butt of the gun, while the other one rested near the taser. Never planning to use them, of course. It’s not a power trip for an officer but based on Harry’s previous comment, Edmund could be facing a killer.
Leaning closer so that only Harry could hear, Edmund whispers, “the comment about the stabbing is a very specific detail. In fact, not too many this early in the case would know that. Unless…” he pauses to look at Harry directly, “you either witnessed or committed the crime.”
The smug look from Mr. Jenkins evaporated just like the morning dew.
“Obviously you know more information than you’re leading on to. So I’m going to make a suggestion. Either keep this information to yourself, meaning you do not report this in the newspaper. Or post it for the whole town to see and I will pick you up for questioning.”
Harry opens his mouth to respond but quickly closes it once again.
“Be smart, Jenkins. And when you’re ready to share more about your findings, well you know where to find me.” Flashing a wicked grin, Edmund says, “now have a lovely day.” And for the first time, Harry had nothing to say in response.
“Did you hear anything interesting?” the Sargent asked while Edmund walked towards him.
“Possibly,” was the only response Edmund provided.
The older gentleman leaning over the dead body was the county coroner, Dick and the young lady standing nearby was the medical examiner, Megan. By the looks of the scene, Megan was more like the observer compared to the actual examiner. Dick was the one who was touching, probing, and examining the young victim lying dead on the ground. There was another man who was walking around, photographing every angle possible of the crime scene. Edmund did observe Megan writing notes within a legal pad, whether documenting Dick’s or her observations, he did not know. What he did know was that the old man was mumbling nonsense to himself.
Both law enforcement officers stood back with their arms crossed and mouths closed. After some time, the older gentleman joins his comrade. They both converse in whispers as if to compare notes. At last, they nod in unison and face the officers.
“Well?” The Sargent asks rather impatiently.
“We can confirm that the cause of death was due to the impact near the chest cavity,” Megan stated matter of factly.
“No shit,” The Sargent says.
“But what was the weapon?” Edmund asks to take the attention away from his impatient leader.
“Well we will not know for certain till we conduct a proper autopsy, but we’re thinking it was conducted by stabbing,” Megan says.
“By what?” says Edmund.
“We can’t say for certain just yet,” Megan responds.
Now Edmund grows increasingly impatient, “was the weapon a knife?”
“Yes, it was.” Dick says tersely. “If you don’t mind gentleman, we’d like to take the body to my office to conduct a deeper investigation. Now excuse me.” And in his departure, Megan trails behind with the notebook clutched to her chest.
