Tree is expecting s discount on his next order of French Premium!
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The Bronx Crux Murders
- Thread starter windar
- Start date
Tree is expecting s discount on his next order of French Premium!
Besides, Messa donated the Premium French Crucifixion wood. You are so....
Nice start and a great premise to the story. Looking forward to where this is going, and how the investigation proceeds.
I couldn’t agree more.
Not an auspicious start, but he’s making some headway. This is splendid, Windar!
Excellent! Barb’s on the case! That should wrap things up nicely, and she’ll learn a few things about looking for little details – might even get better at reading fine print.
Love the pacing on the story so far. Every section reveals a little bit, and we’re always left looking for what’s between the lines and waiting for what comes next.
I see I’m not the only one that’s a bit concerned.
Certainly a point to consider.
I don’t doubt your sleuthing ability; just your ability to stay out of trouble.
Carry on Mr. Windar. You have us where you want us, I think.
Nice start and a great premise to the story. Looking forward to where this is going, and how the investigation proceeds.
I couldn’t agree more.
Not an auspicious start, but he’s making some headway. This is splendid, Windar!
Excellent! Barb’s on the case! That should wrap things up nicely, and she’ll learn a few things about looking for little details – might even get better at reading fine print.
Love the pacing on the story so far. Every section reveals a little bit, and we’re always left looking for what’s between the lines and waiting for what comes next.
I see I’m not the only one that’s a bit concerned.
Certainly a point to consider.
I don’t doubt your sleuthing ability; just your ability to stay out of trouble.
Carry on Mr. Windar. You have us where you want us, I think.
I see I’m not the only one that’s a bit concerned
Oh ye of little faith.
Come on Jolly ... give me a break ... don't agree with Wragg just cause he makes the claim
I am going to break this murder mystery case wide open ... just you wait and see
Oh dear. Now I've made you unhappy, and me an old softie and all.I am going to break this murder mystery case wide open ... just you wait and see
Okay, Barb. Show us what you got (in sleuthing I mean 
).
Oh dear. Now I've made you unhappy, and me an old softie and all.
That's better. You'll see. I promise. Show them Windar!
messaline
Crucified Amazon
Messa never does discount about her production : certainly that quality is expensive but IT'S QUALITY !
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
I hope for Detective Moore, that she is not put on the case because she is considered expendable by her superiors (“smart cookie” and “having a woman working on the case will appeal to the media” sounds rather suspicious to me).
Barb has already messed up an undercover operation once, as an investigation journalist. If she will go undercover, someone should remind her (basic rules to instruct a rookie) to the fine print of the practice of going undercover, such as not to take her police badge with her. Otherwise, her fingerprints will have to be taken on a cross soon.
But of course, we must put our trust into Detective Moore. After all, she graduated at the prestigious and excellent NYPD Academy, where only the best succeed!
I am relative sure, that Barb in this case make a experience on a cross. Earlier or later.I hope for Detective Moore, that she is not put on the case because she is considered expendable by her superiors (“smart cookie” and “having a woman working on the case will appeal to the media” sounds rather suspicious to me).
But of course, we must put our trust into Detective Moore. After all, she graduated at the prestigious and excellent NYPD Academy, where only the best succeed!
windar
Teller of Tales
You want me to show mine and then you'll show yours?
I hope for Detective Moore, that she is not put on the case because she is considered expendable by her superiors (“smart cookie” and “having a woman working on the case will appeal to the media” sounds rather suspicious to me).
But of course, we must put our trust into Detective Moore. After all, she graduated at the prestigious and excellent NYPD Academy, where only the best succeed!
I happened to come upon a photo of her graduating class. That's Barb on the left near the bottom. It seems she forgot to button her uniform top. Reggie will be giving her a few demerits for that.
By the way, I can't figure out why a great movie like this gets only 2 stars on IMDB.
windar
Teller of Tales
4.
When I got to my desk, Moore was sitting across from me at Dick’s desk. She was early thirties, brunette, very attractive in an intellectual kind of way. The kind of girl you could bring home to meet your family and then fuck her brains out.
She rose to greet me. “Detective Goldman,” she purred, “I hope it’s OK to use Detective Leary’s desk while he’s on vacation. Chief Jones asked me to draft a press release with the victim’s picture. Of course, you will need to approve it before it goes out.”
“Yeah, sure, Moore, that’s fine,” Stan said gruffly.
“You can call me Barbara or even Barb, Detective Goldman.”
“Stan,” Stan said somewhat reluctantly. He supposed it would be awkward if he called her “Barb” and she called him “Detective Goldman” even if he was old enough to be her father. Though the stirrings in his groin as he looked at her lithe figure were anything but fatherly.
“This is an incredible case, isn’t it?” Barb said. “Who would imagine a crucifixion in this day and age?”
“Not me, that’s for sure,” Stan replied.
“Well, I’d better finish this press release,” Barb chirped. Stan sat down and began organizing his files. It wasn’t more than a few minutes later when Barb announced, “Would you mind having a look at this, Detective Goldman, I mean Stan?”
Stan got up and moved behind Barb, bending over her so he could see the computer screen. Her hair smelled very nice; he wondered what shampoo she used. Then he imagined her in the shower, applying the suds to her soft brunette hair. “Does it look OK? She asked, breaking his reverie.
Stan forced himself to read the release and look at the picture of the victim. “Yeah, looks fine. Send it to the Department’s Public Relations section for final approval and then let’s see what happens.” He stood up slowly, his back aching, feeling old by contrast with Moore, something he never felt working with Dick.
Once the release was on its way, Stan went over with Barb what he knew about the case so far, such as it was. He was impressed with the questions she asked-he supposed Reggie was right about her being a smart cookie. As they were winding up, the phone rang. He picked it up. “Detective Goldman,” he said.
“That girl in the picture, that’s my girlfriend,” a male voice announced.
“Who is this?” Stan asked.
“My name is Brian Coburn,” he said. “That’s Jennifer Chalmers, my girlfriend.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
“When did you see her last?”
“Last Thursday, in the morning, before I left for work.” Today was Tuesday so that was five days ago. “Later in the day, she texted me that her father was sick back in Pittsburgh and she was going to see him. I got texts from her every day that he was in the hospital but getting better and yesterday she said she might come back tomorrow, which is today now. But that’s the last I heard from her. I texted her earlier today and got no answer. I just assumed she was on the train and the service sucked. Then, I saw her picture on my news feed.”
“No voice communication during that time, then?” Stan asked.
“No, just texts. That’s usually how we communicate.”
“Kids today,” Stan thought. Barb was probably like that too. “And did you speak with her parents?”
“No. We’ve only been going out for a couple of months and I hadn’t met them. I had no reason to doubt her story. And now you say she’s dead? And crucified? That’s insane.”
“We’re going to have to ask you to identify the body, because we haven’t found anyone else who knows her,” Stan said. “Where are you?” He gave an address in Brooklyn. “Stay there, Brian. We’ll come and get you and take you to her. It should take a half hour or so. Give me your number so I can reach you if we’re delayed, OK?” Stan jotted the number down on a scrap of paper. “Sit tight. See you soon,” he said before hanging up the phone.
Barb looked at him, interested. “The boyfriend,” Stan said. “But apparently she’s been texting him the whole time. Told him she was in Pittsburgh visiting her sick father.”
“Or the bad guys had her phone and were using it to make people who knew her think she was in Pittsburgh so we wouldn’t be looking for her.”
“Very possible, Barb. Anyway, this may be the first break we’ve gotten. Let’s go,” Stan said, raising his tired old body out of his chair. “Off to see the sights of beautiful Brooklyn on this lovely afternoon.”
When I got to my desk, Moore was sitting across from me at Dick’s desk. She was early thirties, brunette, very attractive in an intellectual kind of way. The kind of girl you could bring home to meet your family and then fuck her brains out.
She rose to greet me. “Detective Goldman,” she purred, “I hope it’s OK to use Detective Leary’s desk while he’s on vacation. Chief Jones asked me to draft a press release with the victim’s picture. Of course, you will need to approve it before it goes out.”
“Yeah, sure, Moore, that’s fine,” Stan said gruffly.
“You can call me Barbara or even Barb, Detective Goldman.”
“Stan,” Stan said somewhat reluctantly. He supposed it would be awkward if he called her “Barb” and she called him “Detective Goldman” even if he was old enough to be her father. Though the stirrings in his groin as he looked at her lithe figure were anything but fatherly.
“This is an incredible case, isn’t it?” Barb said. “Who would imagine a crucifixion in this day and age?”
“Not me, that’s for sure,” Stan replied.
“Well, I’d better finish this press release,” Barb chirped. Stan sat down and began organizing his files. It wasn’t more than a few minutes later when Barb announced, “Would you mind having a look at this, Detective Goldman, I mean Stan?”
Stan got up and moved behind Barb, bending over her so he could see the computer screen. Her hair smelled very nice; he wondered what shampoo she used. Then he imagined her in the shower, applying the suds to her soft brunette hair. “Does it look OK? She asked, breaking his reverie.
Stan forced himself to read the release and look at the picture of the victim. “Yeah, looks fine. Send it to the Department’s Public Relations section for final approval and then let’s see what happens.” He stood up slowly, his back aching, feeling old by contrast with Moore, something he never felt working with Dick.
Once the release was on its way, Stan went over with Barb what he knew about the case so far, such as it was. He was impressed with the questions she asked-he supposed Reggie was right about her being a smart cookie. As they were winding up, the phone rang. He picked it up. “Detective Goldman,” he said.
“That girl in the picture, that’s my girlfriend,” a male voice announced.
“Who is this?” Stan asked.
“My name is Brian Coburn,” he said. “That’s Jennifer Chalmers, my girlfriend.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
“When did you see her last?”
“Last Thursday, in the morning, before I left for work.” Today was Tuesday so that was five days ago. “Later in the day, she texted me that her father was sick back in Pittsburgh and she was going to see him. I got texts from her every day that he was in the hospital but getting better and yesterday she said she might come back tomorrow, which is today now. But that’s the last I heard from her. I texted her earlier today and got no answer. I just assumed she was on the train and the service sucked. Then, I saw her picture on my news feed.”
“No voice communication during that time, then?” Stan asked.
“No, just texts. That’s usually how we communicate.”
“Kids today,” Stan thought. Barb was probably like that too. “And did you speak with her parents?”
“No. We’ve only been going out for a couple of months and I hadn’t met them. I had no reason to doubt her story. And now you say she’s dead? And crucified? That’s insane.”
“We’re going to have to ask you to identify the body, because we haven’t found anyone else who knows her,” Stan said. “Where are you?” He gave an address in Brooklyn. “Stay there, Brian. We’ll come and get you and take you to her. It should take a half hour or so. Give me your number so I can reach you if we’re delayed, OK?” Stan jotted the number down on a scrap of paper. “Sit tight. See you soon,” he said before hanging up the phone.
Barb looked at him, interested. “The boyfriend,” Stan said. “But apparently she’s been texting him the whole time. Told him she was in Pittsburgh visiting her sick father.”
“Or the bad guys had her phone and were using it to make people who knew her think she was in Pittsburgh so we wouldn’t be looking for her.”
“Very possible, Barb. Anyway, this may be the first break we’ve gotten. Let’s go,” Stan said, raising his tired old body out of his chair. “Off to see the sights of beautiful Brooklyn on this lovely afternoon.”
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windar
Teller of Tales
Let's not get carried away, just because she had one OK idea. She still has a way to go to prove herself.Oooh, she's sharp, that Barb!
She does look kind of cute in that nurse's uniform though
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Let's not get carried away, just because she had one OK idea. She still has a way to go to prove herself.View attachment 499145
She does look kind of cute in that nurse's uniform though
Keep your sexist remarks to yourself, Goldman! 
windar
Teller of Tales
5.
It’s a simple fact that when a young woman is murdered, her boyfriend is at least of interest to the police, if not a suspect, until proven otherwise. Despite that, Stan wasn’t going to press Coburn too hard at this first meeting. They would be two good cops, sympathetic to his loss and see where the conversation went. Barb was fully on board with this strategy as they discussed it in the car heading over to Brooklyn.
Brian Coburn lived in Bedford-Stuyvesant, a neighborhood that, twenty-seven years ago when he started on the force as a patrolman, would have made Stan nervous just to drive through in a cop car. Today, in the booming New York real estate market, it was being transformed into yet another overpriced refuge for the well-to-do, with coffee bars and trendy restaurants on every corner. Stan wondered where the former residents, now priced out of the area, were living.
At the address Coburn had given them, a young man was sitting on the steps of a four story brownstone, dressed in a T shirt, shorts and sneakers. He stood as the police car pulled up by the curb and descended to meet the detectives as they got out of the car. He fit right into the gentrifying neighborhood-curly hair, a neatly trimmed goatee, round glasses.
“Brian Coburn?” Stan said. He nodded. “I’m Detective Stan Goldman and this is Detective Barbara Moore.” Stan noticed the kid checking Barb out. “Thank you for helping us with this case. I know it won’t be easy, but we need someone to identify the body and you are the first person who knew her to come forward.”
“This is so horrible. I will do anything to help you catch the people who did that to Jen.”
“We understand,” Stan said sympathetically. “She’s at the morgue in the Bronx. Please get in the car.” Barb opened the door to let Coburn in. They drove in silence. Stan wanted to be looking him in the face when they asked him the questions they wanted to pose to him so they could judge his answers.
At the morgue, Coburn immediately turned away when they lowered the sheet. “Oh, God, it’s her, it’s Jen.” He turned back with tears in his eyes. Stan didn’t think he was faking.
“For the record, you are certain that this is Jennifer Chalmers as you knew her.”
“Yes,” Brian answered.
“OK. We have some questions we need to ask you. Since Detective Moore and I haven’t had lunch yet, perhaps we could go to the hospital cafeteria?” Coburn nodded. In the food line, Stan was going to select the daily special, some kind of greasy pseudo-Mexican concoction, but when he saw that Barb ordered a chicken Caesar salad, he thought better of it and asked for the same. It couldn’t hurt the impression he made on her to look like he took good care of himself, as she obviously did with herself. Brian said he wasn’t hungry, which was quite understandable, and ordered a coffee.
Stan selected a table in a far corner where they could question Coburn without being disturbed. Moore had her notebook out to record what was said. “So, how long have you and the deceased been dating?” he asked.
“A couple of months,” Brian replied. Same answer as he’d given over the phone.
“And how did you meet?”
“She was working at the coffee shop near where I work. I used to stop in and flirt with her and eventually she agreed to have dinner with me. She was so beautiful and so kind,” Brian said. He began sobbing. Barb handed him a napkin.
“What’s the name of the coffee shop?” Brian named a place with an address in Lower Manhattan near Silicon Alley, an area that was popular with tech startups. “So she works there?”
“Well, she’s a student at Greenwich University, but she does some hours there during the semesters and more now in summer when there are no classes to earn some extra money. Her parents are decently well-off, but not rich according to her.”
“What does she study?” Barb asked.
“Economics, with a minor in Chinese. She was hoping to work in China after graduation.”
“So she speaks Chinese?”
“Well, I mean, I can’t say myself, but I have a couple of Chinese friends and they say she’s pretty good.”
“And where do you work?” Stan interjected.
“I do coding for Applied Data.” Barb seemed to know who they were and appeared impressed. Stan had never heard of them, but there was plenty he had never heard of when it came to technology.
“Did you and Jen live together?” Barb asked.
“No. We were spending a lot of time together, but she had her own place near me with a few roommates. We talked about her moving in, but it was a bit early in the relationship.” Barb nodded.
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Stan said, “But I have to ask. Procedure, you know. Was she into drugs?”
“We probably smoked pot maybe two or three times in the two months we’ve gone out. She didn’t even drink much. A glass of wine or a beer now and then.”
“Did she ever talk about any ex-boyfriends that might have a grudge?” Barb asked.
“No,” Brian replied. “She had dated someone in high school back in Pittsburgh, but it seemed like they had just drifted apart without any particular feelings one way or the other.”
“OK,” Stan said. “Since you guys aren’t married, you aren’t next of kin, so we need to contact her parents. You wouldn’t happen to know their number.”
“I know they live in the Pittsburgh area. That’s all I know about them. I believe they are both schoolteachers. Maybe they’ll see the picture. But Greenwich will know for sure, won’t they.”
“Yes, they will,” Barb replied.
“And that’s where we’re headed next,” Stan said, gathering the empty dishes onto the cafeteria tray. “Can we drop you somewhere on the way?”
“No thanks, I can take the train.”
“We’ll probably be in touch again,” Stan said. “You aren’t planning on leaving town, are you?”
“No, I have some vacation in August, but I’m working all this month.”
“Thank you for your help and my condolences on your loss,” Stan said. They shook hands as they rose from the table.
It’s a simple fact that when a young woman is murdered, her boyfriend is at least of interest to the police, if not a suspect, until proven otherwise. Despite that, Stan wasn’t going to press Coburn too hard at this first meeting. They would be two good cops, sympathetic to his loss and see where the conversation went. Barb was fully on board with this strategy as they discussed it in the car heading over to Brooklyn.
Brian Coburn lived in Bedford-Stuyvesant, a neighborhood that, twenty-seven years ago when he started on the force as a patrolman, would have made Stan nervous just to drive through in a cop car. Today, in the booming New York real estate market, it was being transformed into yet another overpriced refuge for the well-to-do, with coffee bars and trendy restaurants on every corner. Stan wondered where the former residents, now priced out of the area, were living.
At the address Coburn had given them, a young man was sitting on the steps of a four story brownstone, dressed in a T shirt, shorts and sneakers. He stood as the police car pulled up by the curb and descended to meet the detectives as they got out of the car. He fit right into the gentrifying neighborhood-curly hair, a neatly trimmed goatee, round glasses.
“Brian Coburn?” Stan said. He nodded. “I’m Detective Stan Goldman and this is Detective Barbara Moore.” Stan noticed the kid checking Barb out. “Thank you for helping us with this case. I know it won’t be easy, but we need someone to identify the body and you are the first person who knew her to come forward.”
“This is so horrible. I will do anything to help you catch the people who did that to Jen.”
“We understand,” Stan said sympathetically. “She’s at the morgue in the Bronx. Please get in the car.” Barb opened the door to let Coburn in. They drove in silence. Stan wanted to be looking him in the face when they asked him the questions they wanted to pose to him so they could judge his answers.
At the morgue, Coburn immediately turned away when they lowered the sheet. “Oh, God, it’s her, it’s Jen.” He turned back with tears in his eyes. Stan didn’t think he was faking.
“For the record, you are certain that this is Jennifer Chalmers as you knew her.”
“Yes,” Brian answered.
“OK. We have some questions we need to ask you. Since Detective Moore and I haven’t had lunch yet, perhaps we could go to the hospital cafeteria?” Coburn nodded. In the food line, Stan was going to select the daily special, some kind of greasy pseudo-Mexican concoction, but when he saw that Barb ordered a chicken Caesar salad, he thought better of it and asked for the same. It couldn’t hurt the impression he made on her to look like he took good care of himself, as she obviously did with herself. Brian said he wasn’t hungry, which was quite understandable, and ordered a coffee.
Stan selected a table in a far corner where they could question Coburn without being disturbed. Moore had her notebook out to record what was said. “So, how long have you and the deceased been dating?” he asked.
“A couple of months,” Brian replied. Same answer as he’d given over the phone.
“And how did you meet?”
“She was working at the coffee shop near where I work. I used to stop in and flirt with her and eventually she agreed to have dinner with me. She was so beautiful and so kind,” Brian said. He began sobbing. Barb handed him a napkin.
“What’s the name of the coffee shop?” Brian named a place with an address in Lower Manhattan near Silicon Alley, an area that was popular with tech startups. “So she works there?”
“Well, she’s a student at Greenwich University, but she does some hours there during the semesters and more now in summer when there are no classes to earn some extra money. Her parents are decently well-off, but not rich according to her.”
“What does she study?” Barb asked.
“Economics, with a minor in Chinese. She was hoping to work in China after graduation.”
“So she speaks Chinese?”
“Well, I mean, I can’t say myself, but I have a couple of Chinese friends and they say she’s pretty good.”
“And where do you work?” Stan interjected.
“I do coding for Applied Data.” Barb seemed to know who they were and appeared impressed. Stan had never heard of them, but there was plenty he had never heard of when it came to technology.
“Did you and Jen live together?” Barb asked.
“No. We were spending a lot of time together, but she had her own place near me with a few roommates. We talked about her moving in, but it was a bit early in the relationship.” Barb nodded.
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Stan said, “But I have to ask. Procedure, you know. Was she into drugs?”
“We probably smoked pot maybe two or three times in the two months we’ve gone out. She didn’t even drink much. A glass of wine or a beer now and then.”
“Did she ever talk about any ex-boyfriends that might have a grudge?” Barb asked.
“No,” Brian replied. “She had dated someone in high school back in Pittsburgh, but it seemed like they had just drifted apart without any particular feelings one way or the other.”
“OK,” Stan said. “Since you guys aren’t married, you aren’t next of kin, so we need to contact her parents. You wouldn’t happen to know their number.”
“I know they live in the Pittsburgh area. That’s all I know about them. I believe they are both schoolteachers. Maybe they’ll see the picture. But Greenwich will know for sure, won’t they.”
“Yes, they will,” Barb replied.
“And that’s where we’re headed next,” Stan said, gathering the empty dishes onto the cafeteria tray. “Can we drop you somewhere on the way?”
“No thanks, I can take the train.”
“We’ll probably be in touch again,” Stan said. “You aren’t planning on leaving town, are you?”
“No, I have some vacation in August, but I’m working all this month.”
“Thank you for your help and my condolences on your loss,” Stan said. They shook hands as they rose from the table.
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