text: Odessa  McNiel Clarissa Odele and The Case of The Slain Newlyweds 
   
   
   Preface  
   
          I kept running and couldn’t stop.  Don’t you dare stop! I thought to myself.  I was running through the woods and for my life.  Someone just killed my husband, and I needed to get the-hell-out-of-dodge.  I had no clue where I was going or where I was.  I heard more gunshots and screams of pain.  So, I knew I was still too close to our honeymoon spot.  I see a patch of road out of the corner of my eye and steer my body towards it hoping to get some help.   
  	I run to the double yellow line in the middle of the road and start waving my arms above my head.  Ahead of me, I see lights that are brighter than the sun.  They get closer and closer, and I realize the driver isn’t going to stop even if they notice me.  So, I start to run again.  I keep glancing over my shoulder to see where the car is as I run, but I don’t get too far before I hit the front bumper of the car.   
  	As I lie in the road struggling for my life, I hear the car door slam to my right and hear footsteps coming towards me.  They stop no more than a few inches from my face.  I don’t try to look at the person because of the pain in my chest, stomach and gut.   
  	You’d expect the driver to freak out, but this person didn’t.  They leaned next to my ear and slowly whispered, “This is what you get for marrying my lover.” Then with the click of the trigger I was dead.  
   
   
   
   The Case  
   
          I arrived at the office about seven o’clock.  I was flipping through some old paperwork when my office phone rang at ten-thirty.  “Detective Odele speaking,” I answered into the speaker.   
  	“This is chief.  We got ourselves a vic at 211 Saints Avenue in Banks.  Get your butt over there and help lead things will ya'.  Marks is having himself a hell of a time with the media, and needs someone else to take things over on the inside of the house.” 
  	“Yes, sir.” 
          “And bring that rookie of yours, whatshisname- Josh.  I’ll be there in about an hour and so should you.” He hung up before I did and left me hanging in the process.  I tidied what I had made a mess of on my desk.  Then I called “my rookie" up from his little cubicle of misery.   
          “Josh I need to see you in my office please.” I said over the loud speaker.  I heard “ooooo’s and ahhhhh’s” as he knocked on my door.  
          “You wanted to see me, ma’am.”  
          “Yes I did. Sit.” He sat in front of my desk with his hands twined together and his legs crossed under the chair.  “The chief thinks that it’s time I let you come along with me to investigate some crime scenes.  He thinks it’ll get you some well-earned experience.  You up for the challenge.” 
          I watched his face light up with excitement at my proposal of the situation.  “That would be great,” he smiled at me with satisfaction.   
          “Good, then you won’t mind if that starts now, will you?” 
          I saw his face flush, “R... right now?” 
          “Yes, now; we have a crime scene to investigate.  Chief expects us to be there in an hour.  He wants you to come, but I have no problem telling him you’re too chicken.  So, unless you want to raise hell, I think you should come along and be my right hand man.” He stared at me like I was speaking Chinese or some foreign language.  “Alright, when I get there without you…” I started for the door. 
          “Ok… Ok… I… I’ll go with you.” 
          “Good,” I took off down the hall to the parking garage.  I wasn’t going to wait on Josh to follow me because I knew he’d catch up eventually.  I also wasn’t fixing to let a stupid rookie make me look slow.  
          I was about half way to the cruiser when I heard him panting behind me.  I shouted over my shoulder at him, “If you can’t keep up with me at my pace, you need to work on getting faster.  It’s all about fast pace action and making a decision at the blink of an eye in this career, and if you can’t even do that, then you need to get the hell out.” 
          “I’m… trying... (wheeze)… to,” I heard his footsteps pitter-pater to a stop as we reached the cruiser.  He put his hands on his knees to try to catch his breath.  He reminded me of the dog my parents had: old and lazy.   
          I unlocked the car and sat inside it.  Josh did the same but a little slower.                                     "Taking your sweet time aren’t you?” I asked.   
          “I guess it seems like it doesn’t it?” My question was meant to be rhetorical.  So, because he didn’t know me all that well, I let the conversation die.   
          We buckled ourselves in; I was driving and rookie was riding shotgun.   
          “So where we going?” 
          “211 Saints Avenue in Banks.”   
          He looks at me questioningly, “Banks?” 
          “Yes, it’s our code for the valley that sits in the middle of the state.  It’s a very remote place with lots of wooded areas and stuff like that.” 
          “Oh,” he leaned back in the seat, “Did Chief say anything else?” 
          “No, he did say that there was a lot of media, though.  The only thing you have to worry about is if they ask you a question about the case.” 
          “And if that happens?” 
          “Then say that you are just accompanying one of the detectives and know nothing of the whole case.  Not that you know anything more than where it is at or anything, right?” He laughed.  I think he was actually getting warmed up to me after all. 
   
   
   
   Bodies  
   
          We pulled into the drive just as Chief was pulling in behind us.  He was right about the swarm of media at the scene.  We parked beside a patch of what looked like Huckleberries and were surprised when the chief did the same.   
  	He got out of the car as we did but with much less grace.  We moved as quietly through the media as we could with an occasional “excuse me” or a sharp “let me through”.   Eventually we made it to the deck where Marks was still holding his ground.   
  	“It’s about damn time you three make it here.  I’ve had to do this bit by myself for the past hour and a half; it’s giving me a fucking migraine.” He said when he spotted us.  His usual greeting was just a complaint and a plain ‘hi’, but that was Marks for you: plain and simple.   
  	 “I’m sure you’ll suffer severely,” I exclaimed with heavy sarcasm. 
  	“Nah, I’ll fair better than John Doe in there.” 
  	“You guys haven’t identified him yet?  Surely the medical examiner should’ve been here by now, right?” 
  	“She’s running late.  ‘Family emergency’, she said.”   
  	“So, where’s our vic?” I asked then realized Rookie was still with us.  “Josh, go keep the media back will ya’?”  
  	“Yes, ma’m,” I heard him say as he headed in the direction we’d just come.   
  	Marks lead us to what I’d guessed was the master bedroom.  We were greeted with one hell of a mess.  The vic was leaned against the wall naked all ‘spread eagle’.   Blood splattered the wall and the floor, and the bed was unmade with blankets hanging off it in every possible way.   
  	I surveyed the scene and wasn’t very surprised at the weirdness of it because I’d seen worst.  Finally I asked, “So, what can you tell about the scene that we don’t have to have Ashley for?” 
  	“The house keeper found him like this this morning.   She said she had her own key to let herself in, but she found the door unlocked.  She stated that it was unusual because most people in the area keep their doors locked at night.  Mrs. Winter described an unusual silence in the house when she entered.  That’s when she came into the room and found him like this.” 
  	“Anything else,” I asked? 
  	“Yea, the other investigators found these in the bags.” He handed me two ids. One of them said that our vic was Brandon Cizio, but the other one had the picture of a woman named Sierra Mace.  
  	“So who’s the chick in this picture?” 
  	He shrugged his shoulders, “Don’t know.  She’s not here; they’ve searched the entire house.” 
  	“Maybe she shot him and ran for it, huh?” 
  	Marks laughed, “Maybe.” 
  	“Where’s the house keeper?” 
  	“In the living room in one of the recliners,” he stated.  I walked into the living room to find the house keeper just like Marks said.  
  	I approached her and pulled out my badge. “Detective Odele,” I said to her, “Are you Mrs. Winter the house keeper?”  
  	She looked me up and down with her beady eyes.  “Yes, but I was not part of this murder, detective.” She answered me. 
  	“I didn’t accuse you of anything, Mrs. Winter.  However, if you don’t cooperate with our questioning I can accuse you for being an accessory to murder.” I said blatantly, “Mrs. Winter, I’m just looking for some answers; I’m just hoping you have some.” 
  	“I…”she started.   
          However Ashley had just entered the house throwing around apologies like they were nothing but air. “I’m so sorry you guys really!” she exclaimed.  She had rushed through the door as if she had a rocket on her back.  Ashley looked like hell too.  Her hair was untidy, loose and frizzy.  Her clothes were mismatched and unironed, and she looked like she’d just had a panic attack.  “Where’s John Doe?” she asked as if she wasn’t paying attention to the fact that we were staring at her in awe.  
          I turned back to the house keeper.  “Here’s my card,” I said flinging it at her.  “We’ll call you later in the week to bring you in for questioning.” I lead Ashley back to the master bedroom.  We entered the room as most of the others were finishing their jobs of lifting prints and taking pictures.  
          Ashley looked around the room like she was taking a sample of everything mentally.  She set her bag on the floor next to the victim and put some gloves on.  She took out a notebook with the M.E.’s report in it and was writing down simple things.  It took her awhile, but then she spoke.    
  	“He’s been dead about eight hours.” She stated slowly. 
  	“How do you know that?” Chief asked.  He must’ve just entered the room because I hadn’t noticed that he was standing right behind me.   
  	She laughed, “I thought you’d never ask.” She grinned delighted.  “The lividity isn’t fixed because the skin blanches when I apply pressure to it,” she demonstrated. “He feels warm, and he’s stiff,” we chuckled softly.  “I didn’t mean it like that!” she exclaimed letting out a giggle herself. “Also, if we use the Glaister equation and subtract his rectal temperature from ninety eight point four, that gives us eleven point four.  Then if we take that answer and divide it by one point five, that gives us about seven point six, and if we round that number up, that gives us about eight hours from the vic’s time of death.” She took her gloves off satisfied with her work and the fact that the question ‘how does she do it?’ was sprawled across our faces.  
  	She took out a body bag, put fresh gloves on, and handed me a pair of gloves so that I could help her.  Together we lifted this man and put him in the body bag and then onto a gurney so that we could take him back to the coroner’s office.  I don’t know how just the two of us did it, but we did.  Ashley wheeled the gurney out of the house while Marks blocked the media from getting too close to the body.   
  	It wasn’t until Rookie and I got back to our vehicle that we realized that Chief wasn’t there anymore.  I hadn’t been aware that he’d left.  In fact I didn’t even know he was gone until then.  Then we heard a phone ringing. 
  	“That yours,” Josh asked?   
  	“It has to be ‘cause it’s not yours, right?” I found my phone and saw that the Chief was calling me.  How coincidental.   
  	“Odele here,” I answered. 
  	“Go down the highway, from the house that you guys are at now, about two miles. We’ve got ourselves another body.” Then he was gone. 
  ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 
  	We got to the next scene fine, and sure enough there in the ditch, mangled but still intact, was our other body.  Rookie and I got out of the car and trotted over to where the chief was.   
  	“What we got?” I asked him.  Ashley came up behind me carrying the same bag she carried to the other crime scene.  She knelt down next to the body and pulled something out of her bag. 
  	“Jane Doe here is Sierra Mace.  It looks like there’s about a half hour difference between John Doe’s death and this one.  Do you think they could be linked our just a coincidence?” 
  	“We’ll find out when we get back to the lab.” 
   
   
   
   Answers  
   
          Two days later, I arrived at the office to find the tox screens from both victims, a medical examiner’s report for each victim, and a gun and bullet tracing on my desk.   
  	The toxicology report showed that neither had taken any drugs, but it did say that they were a little on the tipsy side of things when they died.  Next I looked at the M.E.’s reports.  
  	Victim number one, Brandon, had taken a six bullet hits, but only the one to the head was fatal.  He had nothing wrong with him internally, and the blood analysis came back as being that of  victim number one.   That was good.   
  	Next came the autopsy report for our road-kill victim, Sierra.  Hers showed that she’d been hit multiple times by a vehicle and shot in the head with a bullet.  I guess her murderer wanted to make sure she was dead.  Unlike Brandon, there was something that I found interesting about her internal exam and her blood analysis; she was about four months pregnant and had gestational diabetes.  That confirmation brought up three questions for me: 1. Who was the father of the baby? and 2. Was this woman married? and 3. Who knew this woman enough to want to take away her happiness? 
  	The interesting thing about the bullets that were found in both victims was the same caliber.  This meant that they most likely came from the same gun, and most likely the gun we found at the crime scene: a ’48 caliber pistol.       
  	I decided I’d better bring the pregnancy up with Ashley to see if she had tested the baby’s DNA.  I entered the lab and got a huge whiff of alcohol.  She was sitting in the corner doing some tests on other specimens.   
  	“Have you tested the DNA from the baby of our road-kill victim yet?” 
  	“I have,” she answered without hesitation. 
  	“And… Who’s the father?” 
  	“Oh! Brandon Cizio.” She said.  
  	“Why wasn’t it on the report?” 
  	“Did I really forget it? SHOOT!” she shouted.   
  	“It’s alright.  I’m gonna go to Miles and see if he’s found any marriage certificates tied to these two yet.” She nodded in agreement and went back to what she was doing. 
  	I went to Miles only to find my assumption proven correct.  These two victims were married, and we were looking at a double homicide.  He even uncovered some missing pieces that I wasn’t expecting.  
   
   
   
   Murderer  
   
          We had brought in Mrs. Winter earlier that week for questioning.  She told us that she had known both victims, however briefly, and had confirmed the accusation that our two victims were married.  Mrs. Winter also said that they had rented the lodge they were staying in for their honeymoon because they were newlyweds.  She also told us the name of her boss and gave us her business card.   
  	I was the one the business card was handed to and immediately recognized the name of an old friend of mine, Alex Cizio.  I remembered her wanting to open a chain of resorts for newlyweds after her own marriage was crushed.  We brought her in for questioning and knew a lot about her before she even came in.   
  	We knew that the prints we lifted from the gun belonged to her.  Then we matched the tire tracks in the mud wear Sierra was found to her vehicle.  Next, we uncovered that she had a registered gun carry permit in her name.  Lastly, the most interesting part of the whole matter was that she was married to Brandon Cizio before he married Sierra.  The only  thing we needed was a confession.   
  	Three days later I was put in charge of interviewing her.   
  ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 
  	I entered the room cool as a cucumber.  She sat across from me as I sat across from her.  I spread my evidence across the table and explained each piece to her.  She sat there calmly and practically smiled through the whole thing.   
  	What really surprised me though was what she said to me. 
  	“I couldn’t help myself,” she said to me.  “I couldn’t just let that bitch marry the love of my life.” She smiled like she was happy. “I can still see her face of misery while she lay on the pavement dying.  I can see Brandon, my sweet, sweet Brandon, as I put a bullet in every limb.  It was so much fun.”  
  	“You’re a very sick person Ms. Cizio.  You’re under arrest for the murders of Mr. and Mrs. Cizio.” I stood up and hand cuffed her all the while she laughing her ass off.   
   
   
   Publication Date: January 2nd 2014 https://www.bookrix.com/-smartypants202