Nancy and Granny are busy chatting as they enjoy their meal. The two were like family years before Matilda's tragic ordeal. Granny used to watch Nancy and her brother when they were young. They kept in touch through the years, even during the brief time Nancy was away. Nancy has always thought of Matilda as the grandmother she never had, including her in significant family events.
Hearing a loud commotion, the two women glance towards the door: heavy footsteps and muffled voices echo through the corridor.
"What is going on?"
"Whatever it is doesn't sound good." Nancy springs up from her seat. Grabbing her cane Granny follows.
The ladies first see three officers outside Ava's door. They then notice a second crew snooping through her things. The ladies watch in disbelief as they photograph items and place them in containers.
"What... What are they doing?" Nancy question.
"It looks like they're collecting evidence, dear."
Nancy turns towards Granny. A confused look crosses her face. "What could she possibly do to cause the police to go through her things?"
"Maybe she's the one who's been murdering all of the town drunks," Granny suggests, trying to contain a smile threatening to escape.
"It can't be. No, not my sweet little Ava." Being a little under five feet and excessively overweight, Ava is as round as she is tall.
"Serial killers are good at making everyone believe they're something they're not. Take Ted Bundy, Jeffrey Dahmer, or Albert Fish, for example. To most people, they appeared to be an average Joe.
"I know, but Ava? She just seems so sweet, so caring. I just can't imagine her doing something like this." '
"I guess you never know what someone might do." Smirking, Granny walks into her room.
Nancy follows. "How do you know about all this stuff, " she asks, plopping down. Nancy glances at the food and sighs. She knows she should eat something, but she can't force herself to take a bite.
That's why I'll never get caught. Granny thinks she shoves the last of her food in her mouth.
~~~
Joe and his three detectives watch their forensics team diligently process the scene. Passerby continually stops and stares. The rookies politely usher them along.
"Make sure you do this by the book, guys; I'd hate to see our serial killer get off on a technicality."
"We will, sir." Photographing an item, Kirk places it into a container, pausing when he reaches a stained stick. "I believe this is our murder weapon, sir." Kirk holds up a blood-smeared cane.
"Keep looking; see what else you can find."
"I will, sir."
Jerry glances over at Jeff. "Do you still think Joe lost his marbles?"
The rookie has some nerve to doubt my abilities when he's still so wet behind the ears. Joe spins around. "You questioned my judgment, son?"
Jeff nervously glances at his partners and then at Joe. "I didn't think she would do it, sir."
"Why did you think that?" Joe asks, impatiently tapping his foot, waiting for a response.
He anxiously shifts his weight. "Ms. Brooks doesn't fit the profile of a serial killer, sir. In fact, she's the complete opposite. "
"Not all serial killers fit that profile."
"Then why do we have them for."
"As a basic guide, and nothing more. The guidelines are not structured to be one-size-fits-all." Seeing the confused look on the rookie's face, Joe adds, "It's best if you don't assume anything because false assumptions can get you injured or possibly killed."
Jeff takes a shaky step back, gulps, and says, "I'll try to remember that, sir."
Herring his phone ring, Joe scoops it out of his pocket. "Sergeant Bower..." "You have something for us, Sharon? We'll be right over." He hangs up his phone and turns toward his detectives. The ME says she has some..."
Jerry holds up his hands in surrender. "It wasn't me, he says, trying to keep a straight face."
"Rachel?"
"We called a truce."
"Jeff?"
He shakes his head. "I'm not a part of your prank war, Sir."
Joe glances at each of them again. "So why are you smiling?"
"Kirk told a joke."
Joe looks over to find the lad walking across the room.
"Besides, how could we do anything when we've been with you all day," Rachel adds.
Joe looks at each one again. "I suppose you're right, but you're still going with me, just in case."
"Sure thing, boss." Jerry chuckles. Joe eyes him again. "You're funny when you're paranoid." He laughs.
Joe turns around. "You're in charge, Kirk."
"I won't let you down, Sir."
Joe pats him on the back. "I know you won't."
***
The smell of antiseptic nearly knocks them over the second they step into the lab. The entire area seems sterile, with eggshell walls and long, metal tables. The workstations occupy the center of the room.
They see Sharon recording her findings when they step further into the room. Sharon holds up her hand to stop them as she finishes her report.
"The COD is blunt force trauma to the back of the head. His time of death is TBD per an autopsy." Sharon clicks off her machine. "I found two things on this victim" She walks over to the cadever in the center of the room. "a speck of blood and a hair. I ran the blood through our databank, but nothing came back. ; I'm running the hair now. I know the blood spatter and hair are from two different people. The DNA doesn't match. Neither of my findings is from the victim. I believe the hair belongs to a person of color. She notices Joe's curious look. She holds up the sample and adds. "The hair is kinky, it has a flat cross-section, and its pigmentation is rather large. I also know it came from a female."
"We have two serial killers on our hands?" Joe questions.
"It looks that way. My tech is collecting a DNA sample from Ava now. I'll let you know what I find."
"I know what you'll find." Hurtling the stairs, Joe storms into the interrogation room. "Ok, Ava, your game is over. We know all about you and your partner's killing spree."
"What on earth are you talking about?"
"We know you two killed all those drunks in the alley." Joe lays photos down on the table.
Ava glances down at the gruesome pictures and then turns away. "I've already told you that wasn't me."
"Then why did we find a wig, cane, and dress in your things?" Joe questions, throwing a photo on top of the pile.
Curiosity getting the best of her, Ava glances down. Horrified, she turns away. "Someone must've put them there."
"How did your blood end up on one of the victims?" Joe points towards a photograph.
Ava glances at the door wishing her attorney would arrive. "I don't know."
Joe grabs hold of her arm. "How did you get these scratches?"
Ava looks at her extremities. "My friend's cat did that when I visited the other day."
Joe inspects her wounds. "They look pretty fresh to me."
"I'm old, detective, so my body heals slow."
"Your night nurse didn't back up your story. She said she went to give your meds but discovered you were out. She then went on to say that you didn't get back until right before shift change this morning."
Tears swell in her eyes. "I should've known she'd lie to you. I bet she's the one that planted that evidence too."
"Why would she do that?" Joe questions.
Ava nervously shifts in her chair. Tears form in her eyes when she says, "Liz and her family despise me because of what I did years ago." Sniffling, she wipes the tears streaming down her cheek.
"If the nurse is lying, why are your meds marked as not given and returned?"
"I don't know, I don't know," she bawls.
"The way it stands, you're going down for twelve murders. It'll be more once we connect you to the other crimes."
"You have it all wrong. I didn't do this. I didn't, I didn't," Ava bawls.