Dead of Winter

Subject Stephanie Pryce stated she woke up when the gun went off. Mrs. Pryce stated it was very loud. Mrs. Pryce stated “Tom wasn’t in bed. There is no phone in the bedroom.” Mrs. Pryce stated she sat in bed maybe a minute then walked to the door. Seeing no one in the hall she crept to the children’s room. They were crying so Mrs. Pryce took them back to the master bedroom. Mrs. Pryce stated she was too frightened to go anywhere else for several minutes and called for her husband. There was no answer. Mrs. Pryce stated she went back to the hall and could feel a cold breeze. She stated she thought Thomas Pryce might be outside. She stated she walked to the top of the steps and saw Thomas Pryce lying at the bottom. Mrs. Pryce stated she wanted to call the police but couldn’t. Mrs. Pryce stated she could not get to a phone because she would have had to step over her husband’s body. NO MORE THIS REPORT.

Jesse had signed the form on the bottom of the page with a sprawling signature boldly underlined twice. Louis closed the file.

“Dale, did Pryce ever mention to you what he was working on in his last few weeks?”

Dale looked up and shook his head. “He never talked about his work. I offered to help, you know, filing, tagging evidence, but he always said no.”

“What about his notebook?” Louis asked. Every cop kept a small spiral notebook and Louis had found nothing in Pryce’s drawer.

“Don’t know. Maybe the chief has it,” Dale said. He looked up at the wall clock. “Whoa, it’s almost eight. Coffee-making time.”

“I already made it.”

Dale went to the coffee machine, looked at the torn sugar packets on the counter then over at Louis. “You take three sugars in your coffee?”

“Yeah, why?”

“No reason.”

Louis watched Dale as he wiped the counter clean. “What? Pryce took three sugars, too?”

“It’s no big deal, Louis. Ollie says it’s got something to do with karma trying to correct itself or something.”

“Right,” Louis muttered. He turned his attention back to the Pryce file on his desk but his eyes went to the blotter. He hadn’t noticed before but it was covered with doodles. He wondered if they were done by Pryce or his night shift desk-mat, Ollie. The doodles were tight, intricate, heavily inked. They sprawled over the blotter, paisleys and amoebas curling around numbers and words. He scanned for the numbers 1 2 3. Nothing.

The door flew open, letting in a whirlwind of snow and Jesse, bundled in a hooded parka. Jesse threw back the hood and struggled out of the jacket as he walked across the office. He paused by the mirror and raked his hair with his fingers.

“Damn weather just ruins a good styling,” he said, as he headed toward the coffee machine. He poured a cup and came up behind Louis, who was still studying Pryce’s blotter.

“What you doing?”

“These doodles…You know if Pryce did them or Ollie?”

“Pryce. Ollie was always bitching about it.” Jesse took a sip of coffee. “You can tell a lot from doodles, you know.”

“Like what?”

“These say that Pryce had an acquisitive mind.”

Louis turned to look at him. “What, now you’re into handwriting analysis?”

“I read a book on it once.” He pointed at a paisley shape.

“Look, see how he tries to contain the numbers with those squiggly shapes? He was trying to organize his thoughts. The guy was a mental pack rat.”

Louis shook his head.

Jesse spotted the Pryce file. “What are you doing with that?”

“The chief gave me the case.”

Jesse fell silent. Louis felt an instant chill in the air. Jesse started to walk away then he turned back. “Sorry. I guess I didn’t see the shit on your nose. Blends with your skin.”

Louis’s head shot up. “What?”

But Jesse had stalked off to the locker room. Louis heard the slam of a door.

“He didn’t mean that,” Dale said from his desk. “His mouth overruns his brain when he gets upset. Jess has been pissed for weeks. Jess and the chief are kind of close and I think Jess is mad the chief didn’t let him work the Pryce case more.”