The Evidence

Author: Romantique
 
Email: dolph1n@sbcglobal.net
 
Rating: PG-13. Some violence inferred.
 
Summary: This is a 500 word short in response to the 2002 "The
Guardian Holidaze Fanfic Challenge." It is exactly 500 words from
the first word of the story to the end (minus ~fin~).

Classification: Part of the "Scratched Coffee Table" Series
 
Distribution: Archive anywhere, but please e-mail me 
 
--+--

Detective Darber combed through the living room, searching for
clues. Only moments before, an ambulance had taken the victim to the
hospital.

"Did you see this over here?" the younger of two female analysts
asked the detective.

"What you got?" he asked, carefully stepping around the crime scene.

"See this series of fresh scratches on the coffee table?" the analyst
pointed out.

"Yes, and there appears to be blood on the corner. Mark and
photograph the scratches and the blood . . . and process for genetic
testing," the detective instructed, scribbling some notes into his
Palm Pilot.

Evidence indicates victim, Mandy Gressler, scratched the suspect's
coffee table during an apparent struggle with suspect, Nicholas
Fallin.

Suddenly, there was a commotion at the front of the house.

"My son lives here. Would someone tell me what the hell is going on?"

Two uniformed officers prevented the tall, older man from entering
the premises.

"My name is Burton Fallin. This is my son's home, and I DEMAND to
speak the officer in charge!" he shouted, visibly upset.

Walking toward the disturbance, Detective Darber interjected, "That
would be me, Mr. Fallin."

"Please tell me what happened? Where is my son?" Burton asked in
despair.

"A woman was found here, unconscious, in bad condition," the
detective answered, carefully watching Burton's face for a reaction.

"A woman? Found here? My God." Burton shook his head, trying to
make sense of this chaos. "My son, Nicholas, . . . is he okay?"

"He's been taken to the station for questioning."

As the words sank in, Burton became alarmed. "You don't think
Nicholas had anything to do with this, do you?"

"Like your son, you're an attorney . . . aren't you?" Detective
Darber already knew the answer to his question. "Mr. Fallin, don't
be surprised if your son needs representation."

The detective with the cocky comebacks coolly walked away, leaving
Burton standing outside the front door.


The next morning. . .

A guard led Burton into a holding cell where Nicholas sat in metal,
folding chair, clad in the County's standard-issue, orange jumpsuit.
The guard locked Burton in the cell with his son and waited outside
in the hallway.

"This looks bad," Burton murmured as he began to pace.

"It was an accident," Nick insisted.

"Mandy Gressler is in a coma. I spoke with the D.A.'s office before
coming here, and there's quite a bit of evidence, son."

"There's evidence of what?"

"Signs of a struggle, a blow to her head, blood. The police took
samples of blood and wood shavings found under the woman's
fingernails."

"It was an accident. I didn't hurt her, Dad. I was trying to keep
her from leaving my house until Detective Darber arrived. He KNOWS
that."

Burton looked Nick in the eye. "What about the drugs?"

"Mandy was high when she came to my house. I'm clean, Dad. You've
got to believe me," Nick pleaded.

"I wish I could, son," Burton whispered under his breath. "I wish I
could."

~fin~