Wednesday, July 15, 2009


Hope Freeman caught the break of her life. Living next door to the nasty Tonya Somers finally paid off. As soon as she saw the unmarked vehicles, she grabbed her notepad and tape recorder. She’d call it in if it turned out to be more than calming down another drunken socialite. Never in a million years did she expect to overhear such delicious details; ones that would surely land her an anchor spot much sooner than that pompous Wendy Wells. ‘Hi, I’m Wendy-wishing you Well!’ How cheesy can you be?
She crouched under the living room window writing feverishly. Tonya Somers found dead. Check. Found by the housekeeper. Check. Ribbon shoved down throat. Check. She couldn’t write fast enough. The firm grip on her shoulder stopped her cold.
“Detective Thomas,” she looked up. “What a coincidence. I was just on my way to find you.”
“Is that a fact?” he led her back to her house.
“Well, I had to finish my thoughts while they were fresh in my mind. So, how about an exclusive? You know I play by the rules, on and off the clock.” She moved closer to him and touched his arm. “Besides, I’m the only reporter on the scene. I’ll even cook for you.”
Chuck looked at Hope. He liked her, a lot. And she was a good reporter. “Okay, but nothing, and I mean nothing gets out until the family has been notified. We’re on our way there now, so you should be able to break your story soon. And I like my steak medium rare.”
“If we weren’t working, I’d kiss you. Do you mind if I tag along? My car is on the fritz.”
“Nice try. There’s no way you’re going to charm your way into the house with us. And in case you get any bright ideas while Cruz and I are delivering the tragic news,” Chuck pointed to the two officers chatting next to Tonya’s mailbox. “Yancy and Kirks will be assigned to you. Yancy is small, but I wouldn’t challenge her if I were you.”


“Well,” Danica buckled her seatbelt. “It doesn’t look like a robbery gone badly to me. Sorting through all of that evidence is going to be a bear, but we should know more afterwards. At least I hope so.”
“If robbery wasn’t the motive, what was?” he pulled away from the house.
“Think about it, only two rooms were ‘ransacked’. The master bathroom is the only legitimate crime scene. The stuff sprinkled in the hallway was a poor attempt at staging. They forgot to destroy the bedroom. Doesn’t that seem odd to you?”
“And remember,” Chuck shook his head. “We’re talking about Tonya Somers.”

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