Trout's First Case-Chapter 3

Here is the Link to the Prologue, Chapter 1, and Chapter 2.

Nothing up to this moment could have prepared Trout for this. Hanson had been the model of composure through some of the most bizarre circumstances so far but supposedly these beats, as they called them, had a profound effect upon him. Trout had sensed that Hanson was not exactly in love with his living counterparts but never expected him to cry out in horror as soon as one came into view. The detective who stood on the front door was a bit shorter than average, 5’ 8” or so, stocky build and wore a standard issue ginger mustache.

“Hello, Ms. You rang. I’m Captain Driggs.”

“Thank you for coming, I’m Daisy Mason.”

Hanson regained his composure. “Well Trout, lets go.”

“What? I thought you said, we didn’t have to go. That while the cops were here; we were super busy following them around.”

“Recall, I prefaced that with, if we got a decent detective. We did not.”

“How do you know?”

“This isn’t my first case with Captain Driggs. I do not wish to speak ill of the living, but here it goes. The man is an imbecile. We will only lose brain cells by watching him investigate and he will refuse in every instance to listen to me.”

“No kidding, you’re dead. Do they usually listen to you?”

Hanson debated replying but didn’t have the patience to do so. “Let’s go.”

“So you are just going to drop the case?”

“No. I do not drop cases. We will have to do the investigation without the beats.”

“Shouldn’t we at least see what he asks the wife?”

“Let me tell you how this will go.” He did his best imitation of Captain Driggs, who had a Boston accent and a bit higher voice than Hanson. “Let me see Ms. Oh, I am sorry but it looks like your husband shot himself. Do you think it was suicide? Oh, you do, well I’m sorry to say but you’re right. Would you like us to clean this up or do you got it.’ Then he will ship back to the office, pull out his ‘case closed’ stamp and leave 100% of the work to us.”

Trout had no desire to abandon the scene of his first case. “Look, he has a junior partner maybe he’ll be better?”

“He never listens to anyone, partner or not.” Hanson said.

“So you and him have a lot in common.” Trout came back.

Hanson usually appreciated someone quick on their feet but didn’t seem happy with this last comment, no matter how clever it had been. But like it or not it was effective. Hanson turned around and sat in a chair in the adjacent dining room, clearly giving in to the idea to listen to Captain Driggs.

Before Captain Driggs asked anything Daisy felt the urge that most people feel when they are the ones who find a dead body, to explain themselves. “I came down to breakfast, and noticed the coffee pot was empty, see, my husband usually makes Coffee every morning, so I came out to the living room and saw him there.” She gestured to the body as tears began to flow.

“Oh, I see mam, So how’d he die?”

“I’m so glad we stayed for this.” Hanson mocked.

The question caught Daisy so off guard that she stopped crying. “I...think it was a gun.”

Captain Driggs looked down, and began to process what had been patently obvious to everyone else, the gun and the large wound in the victim's head.

“I believe you are right Mam.” Daisy would have been offended if there had been any hint of sarcasm in his voice.

“It’s only downhill from here,” Hanson continued his mocking.

“Hang on, hang on, what have we here?” Captain Driggs grabbed the hand written note with his ungloved hands. He began to read the note under his breath. “Sorry… can’t go on...affair,” He added, “That is never a good a thing,” before he continued reading. “Can’t live without her, we say goodbye.”

“Well,” Driggs turned back to the group at large, ready to let them enjoy his great wisdom. “That is what we call in the business, a suicide note. Mam, I hardly know how to tell you this, but it is my professial opinion, as a vetern detective, that your husband committed suicide.”

“Nice clean wrap up, time to dust off that, ‘case closed’ stamp.” Hanson said, with an, I told you so, smile.

Daisy was in a state of shock from the captain’s behavior that was only slightly less than the shock she had an hour earlier.

Trout spoke up, “They have to ask her something.”

“Weren’t you listening?” Hanson asked, “The captain asked her that very astute question about how the victim died.”

“Didn’t you say you could get them to listen to you sometimes?”

“Kind of, I can put thoughts in their head but they can choose to ignore them. And Captain Driggs is an expert at doing just that.”

“What about this guy?” Trout said gesturing to the quiet junior detective who had failed to say so much as hello. “Why don’t you try to influence him?”

“I am not very optimistic about this but at least we can say we tried,” offered Hanson.

Captain Driggs was getting up. Trout eyes jumped back and forth between Hanson and this junior detective as if magical telepathic waves would be like ping pong balls going back and forth for him to see. With nothing visible he at least thought Hanson would focus his eyes, hard on the Jr. detective, like a Jedi Knight playing mind tricks. For a good example of Trout’s expectations, ask any 7 year old to attempt telepathy, but Hanson simply sat there.

“Are you doing it?” Trout asked.

“Calm down kid,” Hanson said in a relaxed sense.

Captain Driggs was continuing his dithering of attempted sympathy as he got up. “You know Mrs. don’t blame yourself, the affair may have not even been your fault. Although I did read a study that most men who have affairs do feel neglected from their spouse. See . . .” That’s when it happened. Trout could tell Hanson was getting through. The junior detective was visibly looking at things. And beginning to question if things were not quite as straightforward as Captain Driggs thought.

Driggs was about to leave as he said, “I’ll send a few of the boys in for cleanup”. When junior first tried speech.

“Do you mind if I ask her a few questions?”

Captain Driggs was taken a bit aback. “Sorry ma’am. This is my junior.” he paused. “Very junior partner, Detective Lung, I’m sure I can answer his questions outside.”

“I only have a few questions,” Lung continued.

The captain pulled his partner aside and tried, unsuccessfully, to speak in a voice the others couldn’t hear. “Listen Lung, I have been able through my expertise, to calm this poor woman down. We don’t need you riling her up again.”

“I’ll try not to.”

The captain gave a look and then finally backed down. “Go ahead, make it quick.”

“Mrs. Mason. How long were you and . . .” He realized they had not even got the victim's name.

“Caden,” she helped.

“Thank you. So how long were you and Caden married?”

“Twelve years.”

“Any kids?” Lung asked.

“No. We were unable, so our dogs became our children.”

“So you have dogs?”

“Used to. Mildred and Munchies. Two weeks ago, Midrid disappeared. It was very unexpected, she had never run away before. A week later, Munchies died,” she said, pointing to the urn on the mantle. “He was getting old, and I think Mildred disappearing broke his heart. He simply couldn’t take it anymore...and now I know how he felt,” she said, as she began to cry.

As she did Captain Driggs rolled his eyes. “I knew it,” he puffed through his mustache.

Ignoring his superior, Lung moved on. “Any life insurance?”

“No, we had sufficient to be fine if either of us passed.”

“I also noticed that you have an alarm system. Is it active?”

“It is. My husband was very big into security and always kept the alarm set. His general security fears are also why he bought a gun a few years back.”

“Is that the gun?”

“Pheff,” a sound of exasperation came from the Captain, “Who’s gun do you think it is?” Clearly he felt he deserved to have a monopoly on obvious questions.

Mrs. Mason ignored him. “I think so.”

“And did the alarm go off last night?” Lung continued to question.

“I didn’t hear it.”

“Is the alarm connected to every window and door in the house?”

She began to stir in her seat and it was clear she didn’t want to answer the question. “Um, I think all of the entrances are connected, but it was really my husband’s system. There are so many things he ran around here. I won’t know what to do without him,” she got out as the tears again began to flow.

Captain Driggs jumped in, “alright that's enough questions for the poor Mrs.” He grabbed Lung and pulled him to the door. “The boys will be by in a moment to bag him.” Realizing, ‘bag him’ was a bit insensitive, which for Captain Driggs was quite impressive, he paused and tried to think of a kinder way to say it. But this was Captain Driggs, so nothing else came to mind and he headed for the door.

Lung turned and said, “Last thing, Did you hear the gunshot?”

She paused and was clearly surprised, “You know, I’m a very light sleeper but did not.”

The Captain was not happy that Lung had slipped one more in and said, “I said enough,” and pushed Lung out the door.

Hanson turned to Trout, “That Lung has potential. Much better listener than his Captain, of course, so are most inanimate objects, but I’m glad you suggested working with him.”

“So, you told him what to ask?”

“I can only prompt and encourage thoughts, putting it into words and asking it is up to him. I was trying as much as possible to get him to consider this as a potential homicide. I’d really like some drawers open but the fact that he pushed back at all against his Captain shows guts. And the last question about the gunshot was all him. Not that it hadn’t crossed my mind, but I didn’t give it to him.”

“Can you teach me to prompt people?”

“Like most things over here kid the best way to learn, is try. I don’t think there is much more for us to do here, perhaps it’s time for a chat with Caden.”

Here is the link to Chapter 4

Llewellyn Hanson- Dead Detective- Chapter 1

If you haven't read it here is the link to the Prologue.

“Hanson, your attention to detail is superb, but at times, your methods are questionable.” The tone was stern, but Hanson could tell that Chief Grassly was told to have this conversation and, deep down, wasn't that angry.

“They had booked someone else, bringing him in was the next step, right?” Hanson loved putting forth his clear arguments, even if he knew they wouldn’t get him anywhere.

“You and I both know it's not. The next step is to get permission to bring him in.”

“That could have taken days, or weeks. He was there, I had an opportunity, and the two just snowballed.”

“Yeah, some opportunity. I’m not sure that was the best way to bring someone in.”

“Oh, so we can't use animals anymore?”

“No,” Grassly said, trying to think of the best way to throw off Hanson’s attempt to make him contradict himself.“That's not it.” Grassly was now getting truly irritated, “but we prefer you not to deploy lions in large crowds: others may have been hurt.”

“I had total control. You know that lion wouldn’t have hurt anyone without being influenced.”

“Yes, and you aren’t the only one out there trying to influence people...or lions. You and I both know that could have gone wrong.”

“Well, it didn’t. I brought him in cleanly. They found him with merchandise and money from the heist and the weapon that killed the guard. I wrapped up the case in a tight bow for the beats. Get the guy, help the beats, isn’t that why we are here?”

Grassly cut him off. “Hanson, you understand the job. And no one, no one, is a better detective than you. But there is a line between what we do and what the people we put away do; you just better be sure you don’t cross it.” Grassly took a long pause, “They want me to take action.”

“Not my badge?” Hanson asked.

“Lucky for you, no. But it might be next time.” Relief fell across Hanson's face.

“However, they want me to remove your authority to bring someone in. If we get permission to bring them in on your case, it will be assigned to someone else to do it.”

Hanson was not pleased. “Just because I understand using the element of surprise?”

“Hanson, when we talk about maintaining the element of surprise, we're talking about surprising the perpetrator—not your superiors.”

Hanson knew arguing was pointless and grew anxious to move on. “Fine. What's my new case?”

Grassly felt like the point had not sufficiently sunk in but didn't know what else to say, so he decided to go along with it. “Potential homicide just came in. No Witnesses.”

“Of course.”

“But get on it quick; the beats will find the body soon. I think you should go look around before they touch stuff. You should have the file.”

Hanson looked down at the screen that hung in the air in front of him with a photo of a middle-aged man. There was some information along the side of the photo that he began to read.

“Wait, there's a mistake; This gives the case to me and a. . . D. Armentrout. What about Disher?”

“Disher is being promoted to senior detective.”

“Will miracles never cease?” Hanson threw in, but Grassly chose to ignore him.

“But I'm glad you mentioned it because I almost forgot: Detective Destry Armantrout is your new junior detective.”

“You are kidding me, a new junior? And what kind of name is Destroy Armantrout? Does he want to kill all fish with arms, or did his ancestors make shields for trout?”

Grassly continued to ignore Hanson’s wisecracks. “Seriously, Hanson. It’s my call and I think you need a new junior. It's a big responsibility, and I chose you because despite how you act, you're good, and I need more good detectives. Teach him well and please be a good example. Don’t make me regret this.”

Hanson nodded.

“And Hanson, he's not only new to the force, he's also really fresh, so don't be too hard on him; I know it’s been a long time but hopefully you remember what it's like.”

Handsome growned, “How fresh?”

“Last week.”

“Last week?” Hanson said in Desperation. “How is someone that fresh on the force?”

“He used to work as a beat.”

Hanson buried his face in his hands. “Former beat fresher than maggots on a corpse. You should have taken my badge.”

“Get moving Hanson. He's in the lobby, and I wouldn't be making fun of anyone's name, okay Llewellyn. Hanson turned and disappeared out of Grassly's office.

Hanson approached the young man who sat looking much like a rabbit whose just had the flashlight turned his way. Besides the dazed look, he was a fairly respectable looking young man: tall, slender, clean-cut with dark hair, and dark eyes. He looked like a man in his mid-20s. Being so young was rare, and Hanson instantly felt a bit of sympathy for someone being thrown into their world in their youth.

“You Detective Armantrout?”

“Yes sir, and you must be Detective Llewellyn Hanson.”

“Not to you I'm not,” Hanson quickly cut him off. “You can call me Detective Hanson, or Hanson: I never go by my first name. And as for you, I'll be calling you Trout, because there's no way I'm saying Armentrout every time.”

“That's fine.”

“I wasn't asking your permission. So, have you looked over the file?”

“I didn't get a file.”

“I saw you were sent the file.”

“Where do I pick it up? Do we get mail?”

“Boy, you really are fresh. It doesn't come in the mail, it's sent to your visor.”

“Cool.” Trout didn't want to sound dumb, but decided he better ask. “What's a visor?”

Hanson looked a bit shocked and pointed.

“Oh, this weird screen that seems to follow me everywhere?”

“That's your visor.”

“I thought it was so weird at first, but I got used to it; I honestly forget about it sometimes.” He looked at the screen. “So, how does it work?”

“Didn't you get any training?”

“They said I'd learn on the job. They said you'd be happy to teach me, but I see now why they laughed after the word happy.”

Hanson was stung by how predictable he'd been, so decided he better stop being quite so surly. “Think about the case and look at your visor.”

“I don't know anything about it. What can I think about it?”

“Just do it.”

Trout looked into the visor and thought about the case, or thought about a desire to see something about a case. Instantly, the same photo of the man who Hanson had seen earlier, popped up.

“Caden Mason?”

“That's him, died less than an hour ago. No warning, very unexpected, could be murder.”

Trout looked closer at the picture of Caden. He was middle-aged, nicely dressed, and overweight but not obese. It was clear the photo was a zoom-in from a larger photo, and as soon as Trout thought that he would like to zoom out, the photo did so, and Trout could see Caden kneeling on one knee, and on his other knee sat a woman, presumably his wife. Given her size, Trout was happy she was on Caden's knee and not his. They were in a nicely landscaped yard, and in front of them were two Dalmatian dogs. Along the side of the photo was some demographic information.

Height: 5’10”

Weight: ….

“Wisconsin?” Trout asked after reading the address. “We cover Wisconsin?”

“That's a close one for us.” Hanson had decided to let his Greenie’s lack of experience stop being an irritant and try to enjoy it. “We better go check it out.”

“How will we get there?”

“How have you traveled to places in the last week?”

“I walked,” Trout admitted.

“Oh, to be that fresh again.” Hanson said as he put his hand on Trout. Looking down at Trout, he gave a wink. Trout suddenly felt a bit queasy and then opened his eyes, which he didn't recall closing. He was in the living room of a middle-class home that was filled with a crowd.

The crowd was talking in a large group with most of the focus on one man, a man Trout instantly recognized. Everyone seemed anxious to talk to him.

Hanson quickly spoke up and took control of the room. As he did, Trout noticed for the first time the body that lay on the ground, in front of the couch. There was a bullet wound to the head and a revolver in it’s right hand.

“All right folks, listen up.” Some stopped and turned to Hanson, others kept talking. “Folks, please listen. I'm Detective Hanson from enforcement.” Hanson said, holding up his badge as he spoke. “I realize this is an exciting time for most of you but I'm going to have to ask you all to quickly move to the outside. You can talk there.”

Everyone made a motion for the door except for the man who stood in the center. He looked confused as those next to him told him to quietly step outside.

Hanson turned to the man next to him and said, “Don't let him leave: we will want to take his statement.” But as they turned to leave, a woman in the back with a bathrobe started down the hall, and the group stopped to watch her.

“Keep moving folks,” Hanson reiterated. The woman ignored him as she walked down through the crowd to the adjacent kitchen. She gave a confused look as she held up the empty coffee pot. “Honey did you forget to make the coffee this morning?” She called out.

People continue to watch, but especially the man who Trout had recognized. Trout knew what was going on, and did not want to be there, and yet couldn't turn away. Hanson continued to push the crowd. “Everyone leave now or I will get reinforcements.” People reluctantly began to crowd out but the man was now also ignoring Hanson. The woman began to walk towards the living room, and the man stood in front of her, trying to stop her progress. “Listen, don't be scared, it's not what it looks like.”

She acted as if he wasn't there and walked slowly to the couch. She noticed the body. “Hun, get up or you'll be late.” She stopped and saw the gun and the blood, and screamed. “No, it can't be!” she ran to the body and tried to see if any life was left, and began balling as she held her dead husband close. All the while, the man kneeled by her side and tried to console her. “Honey, don’t worry, we can figure this out. I’m here. Look at me. I’m right here by your side.”

Hanson walked over to him and picked him up. “I'm sorry, Caden. She can't hear you, or see you. You're dead.”

Here is Chapter 2