Notes (Informal) on a Homicide

 Note from the Author: Triptychs are a great way to practice the craft in a low-stakes kind of way. Sometimes the game produces a really fine story, and at other times it doesn't quite come together. Triptychs are good for experimenting with form, style, plot, genre, etc. This piece is a good example of that. I wanted to see if I could craft a piece in a more objective voice, a piece that sticks to a list of details that suggest a story without ever actually narrating that event. There are a few good moments, but overall the piece is a bit flat. 

Means

The murder weapon is a marble paperweight, green and cream, in the shape of a bull. 

Three pounds and seven ounces; seven inches long and four high.

Right foreleg broken off; blood, hair, and skin on its horns.

Found lying on the table in the breakfast nook next to the body of the victim; specifically, just beside the ruined crater that was the victim’s skull.

From the first interview with Bradley Martinson, husband, at the crime scene:

“The bull was Mrs. Martinson’s?”

BM: Yes.

“Did the bull have some special significance to Mrs. Martinson?” 

BM: No.

“To anyone else in the household?”

BM: No.

“How did she come to own it?”

BM: It was a gift from a friend, I think.

“The name of this friend?”

BM: I don’t know.

“You don’t know?”

BM: She had it before I met her.

“So it’s possible that it has some significance she never mentioned.”

BM: (no response)

“Was it always kept at this table?” 

BM: (short hesitation) No.

“Where was it usually kept?” 

BM: A shelf. In the hall.

“Can you think of any reason Mrs. Martinson would have it with her, here, sitting?” 

BM: No.

“Can you think of any reason a killer would have to choose this item specifically to murder her with?”

BM: No.

“Show me this shelf, please.”

The shelf is small, in the center of the house, just large enough for the bull, and set into the wall in a tiny alcove. Members of the household as they moved through the house would pass it dozens of times a day, hundreds of times in a week.

The phrase “Pride of Place” comes to mind.

“No special significance to Mrs. Martinson?”

BM: (shakes his head)

Forensics confirms blood, hair, and skin are a genetic match for Rachel Martinson, victim. No other DNA recovered. 

Several sets of fingerprints were found:

1) A few individual prints—both index fingers, the right middle and ring, the left thumb, etc.—belonging to Sophia Martinson, daughter;

2) A single set, left and right hand, belonging to an as yet unidentified person;

3) A single set, right hand, belonging to Bradley Martinson;

4) And everywhere, everywhere, everywhere Rachel’s.

Motive

Found hidden in a dresser drawer with a false bottom, the following:

—an ID in the name of Stephanie Osbourne (the middle and maiden names of the victim);

—a VISA card in the name of Stephanie Osbourne;

—letters detailing a longstanding, passionate affair signed simply “N,” postmarked Memphis, TN;

—a pair of silver and topaz earrings, a fountain pen monogramed “SO,” a large lock of hair sealed in a plastic bag, a bottle of purple ink.

Excerpts the email of “Stephanie Osbourne”:

—Aug. 2000 (received), “I know it’s wrong, and I don’t care. I never expected to see you again, but now I have, I’ll be damned if I just let you go.”

—May 2004 (sent), “Those five days were my best in years. I know when I left I said it had to be over, but I can’t. I need you.”

—December 2006 (received), “We need to talk about this. I will not let you go. I’m renting a car and driving out there tomorrow. You can meet me at a hotel, or I can knock on your door. But I won’t just give up.”

—March 2011 (received), “How much longer can we go on like this?”

—June 2015 (sent), “It’s over, Nick.”

“Stephanie Osbourne’s” VISA history includes a grand total of seven charges:

—$700 to American Airlines for a flight to Memphis, TN on April 21, 2004;

—$750 to the Marriott Memphis East for a five night stay, April 27 - May 1, 2004:

—$300 to Sprint for the purchase of a standard Nokia pre-paid phone, July 8, 2004;

—$350 to Earthbound Trading Co. for a silver and topaz men’s necklace, June 17, 2006;

—$800 to American Airlines for a flight to Memphis, TN on October 30, 2009;

—$825 to the Marriott Memphis East for a five night stay, November 2 - 6, 2009;

—$875 to American Airlines for a flight to Memphis, TN on August 4, 2013.

Asked about his wife’s infidelity, Bradley Martinson, on advice from counsel, gave no comment.

Opportunity

4:14 a.m. — Rachel Martinson received a voicemail from Ann deRoche, sister of Nick deRoche, informing her of Mr. deRoche’s suicide.

6:15 a.m. — Dawn, February 23, 2016. An unusually dense fog had settled upon the area of the Martinson home overnight. Already isolated from the nearest neighbor by two-thirds of a mile, the fog effectively sealed off the home from the rest of the world.

8:30 a.m. (approx.) — Bradley Martinson left for work (according to Sophia Martinson, daughter). Rachel was sitting in the breakfast nook—has been sitting in the breakfast nook all morning. From SM: “Mom was already up, which was strange. She usually sleeps until nine; she works from home. But she was up and sitting in the nook and staring out the window at the fog. I asked her if anything was wrong, and she sort of muttered something and shook her head. She was really distracted and didn’t seem—I don’t know.”

8:50 a.m. — Sophia Martinson left for school. From SM: “It was really hard to see. The fog. But I could just make her out, starting out the window, as I drove off. She looked so sad. She didn’t move at all, and then the fog swallowed her up and I had to focus on the road. It was the last I saw her alive.”

9:20 a.m. —Sophia Martinson, having forgotten a school book, returned home to find her mother murdered. She describes the scene: “Dark. Quiet. The wrong kind of quiet, like this absence you could feel. When I got to the kitchen, I could see her in the dark, slumped over the table. At first I thought she must be crying. Then I turned the light on. I screamed. There was so much blood, it was dripping off the table on to the floor. I remember calling 911. I don’t remember what I said, and then the police were just there and asking questions.”

—Thanks to Nikki Schmidt for Breakfast Nook, Paperweight, and Fog.