The Murder - Revised

[chaosgoat]

Well, since everyone gave me so much awesome feedback, I decided to sit down and revise it according to your suggestions:

The Murder
I’m sitting opposite a man who, at some better time in his life, was made like a god. But now, his eyes have lost their glimmer and his features succumbed to gravity. He’s in for murder one, and I can’t read his expression.

The arresting officer told me that the man had called the police himself, from the old woman’s kitchen, and that when they had arrived, there he was, at the kitchen table, hands in his lap like a kid in time out. He’d showed them the body.

“I killed her.” He had said.

And now I’m scanning his face for… something. There’s no guilt, no remorse.
There’s nothing.

“Why did you kill her?”

He looks at me, with deep-set blue eyes. “Because that’s what you should do to people who hurt kids.”

“Hurt kids? How did she hurt kids?” I lean forward in my chair, the metal creaking under my weight.

“Boys, I should say. She molested us. I don’t know how many. I wasn’t the only one, though.” He fidgets with the handcuffs, but nothing changes in his face.

“Go on.” I nudge the tape recorder closer.

“Lucinda Brown was my piano teacher. That’s how she got us alone, of course.”

He tells me everything, matter of fact and monotone. I taste the sour twinge of bile at the back of my mouth, and I head for the door.

“Detective… You forgot the recorder.”

I nod, wordlessly, and picked up the recorder off the little metal table. The door slams metallically behind me. I steal a glance at the handcuffed man on the other side of the double mirror. Callahan looks at me, frowning.

Back in my office, I drop the recorder on my desk, with the case file. The manila folder flops open and the photos scatter. I gather them back up, the eyes of the dead woman empty even of merciful accusation. My hands shake just slightly as I shove the file into a drawer. I grab our coats, and head for the door without waiting for Callahan. She catches up, of course, and shivers just slightly at we step into the bitter night, and I put my arm around her protectively. I wonder for a moment if I’m protecting her, or myself.

“Why do you do that?” She doesn’t look at me.

“Do what?”

“Act like a lover but still call me ‘Callahan’ even when we’re away from the office?”

I don’t know, and I say so. I retract my arm, and shove both hands deep into my pockets.

She doesn’t say anything until we get to Sully’s. I look at her from across the table and love her. She’s beautiful. Her hair is long and full and the color of coffee before you add the cream, and her green eyes sparkle because she knows she has the body of a Venus. How she ended up a cop, I’ll never understand. She orders a coffee for each of us, and a slice of pie to split. The usual.

“When are we going to stop this, Jack?”

“Stop what?”

“Stalling? She’s fiddling with her ring.

“When I don’t have to work so much.”

“Then why don’t you take that promotion the commissioner keeps offering you?”

I don’t answer for a long time. Our coffee and pie arrives. She picks at the pecans on top, waiting for me to say something. I feel like the words are stuck in my throat. I take a drink of coffee, and stare at the ripples in the inky surface.

“I really don’t know why I don’t take that job, baby…” I can’t look at her. “I just don’t know...”

I feel tired suddenly, but she reaches across the table and takes my hand. I hold her hand back, feeling how small it is in mine. We sit that way until the diner closes. I take her home and kiss her goodnight, and later I lay in my bed staring at the ceiling, thinking about the man in the interrogation room, and the photos in the manila folder in the drawer of my desk.

The next morning, I take that promotion.

[Buckyrig]

Much tighter. I'd say walk away from it and then come back and give it one more once over...don't know when you have to have this in. But that is mostly me. I go over things a bare minimum of three times...but you're pretty much there now.

Originally Posted by chaosgoat

He’d showed them the body.

I'm assuming this is just the character's voice (most people I know talk like this), but just in case, it should be 'shown'.

EDIT: Scratch that...it should be 'He showed them the body.'

He looks at me, with deep-set blue eyes. “Because that’s what you should do to people who hurt kids.”

Nice touch.

He fidgets with the handcuffs, but nothing changes in his face.

“Go on.” I nudge the tape recorder closer.

Again, nice touch.

“Detective… You forgot the recorder.”

Another item that adds to the artfulness of the piece.

I nod, wordlessly, and picked up the recorder off the little metal table.

You switched tenses here.

“Act like a lover but still call me ‘Callahan’ even when we’re away from the office?”

He didn't call her Callahan. I think you took it out and forgot to replace it.

[Knuckles]

Originally Posted by Buckyrig

He didn't call her Callahan. I think you took it out and forgot to replace it.

It doesn't matter what he called her in the story. She is talking in general about his attitude toward her. Beside they were in the office the whole time anyway.


Anyway, this is much better than before. I have nothing to add that John didn't touch on.

[kamikaze]

i agree with buckyrig and go over it after walking away from it for awhile. this a very solid piece but give it the once over.

[chaosgoat]

Thanks for the feedback guys. Hopefully now, having not touched the piece for a few weeks, I can go back and find more ways to improve it.

[J. Alexopoulos]

Nice, smooth flow. Every element is as essential as any other.

Paragraphs that stood out:

She doesn’t say anything until we get to Sully’s. I look at her from across the table and love her. She’s beautiful. Her hair is long and full and the color of coffee before you add the cream, and her green eyes sparkle because she knows she has the body of a Venus. How she ended up a cop, I’ll never understand. She orders a coffee for each of us, and a slice of pie to split. The usual.

The positive contrast to the rest of the worn and tired mood is very refreshing. It is highlited by the dialogue immediately after, quickly returning us back to the character's harsh realities. It provides the largest emotional swing of the story, besides, perhaps, the hopeful ending.

I don’t answer for a long time. Our coffee and pie arrives. She picks at the pecans on top, waiting for me to say something. I feel like the words are stuck in my throat. I take a drink of coffee, and stare at the ripples in the inky surface.

This paragraph, provided by a momentary stall in the conversation, is great. From its natural placement in the dialogue, to its human observation of Callahan picking at her pie, to the character's own stalling tactics. Each part of the paragraph not only moves the story forward, but provides excellant descriptive naration.



Few spelling and grammar:

1.

He’d showed them the body.

As Buckyrig said you can use:

'He showed them the body.'

You can also use the past perfect tense: "He had shown them the body."




2.

I nod, wordlessly, and picked up the recorder off the little metal table.

It should be : "I nod, wordlessly, and pick up the..."
I might even drop the comma after nod...




3.

She catches up, of course, and shivers just slightly at we step into the bitter night, and I put my arm around her protectively

Two things:
You might want to drop the comma after "catches up,"
and
the two 'and's after the two successive commas





4.

“Stalling? She’s fiddling with her ring.

You forgot the quotation mark after: "Stalling?"





5.

I hold her hand back,

You kinda have to dance around this one. While I'm a big fan of alliteration (even H's), there may be a problem with the wordiness of it.
How about:
"I grip her hand."
or
"I squeeze her hand"


Also, I wasn't clear on a couple of things while reading the story.




a.

I nod, wordlessly, and picked up the recorder off the little metal table. The door slams metallically behind me. I steal a glance at the handcuffed man on the other side of the double mirror. Callahan looks at me, frowning.

That is the first time you establish your setting: halfway through the story. With something this short, I think you should set the scene earlier, probably right after his talk with the arresting officer. That the murderer's scene with the arresting officer ends with him sitting, and his scene with the main character begins with him sitting, led me to think that they were still at the crime scene.





b.

the eyes of the dead woman empty even of merciful accusation

I'm not sure why the accusation would be merciful, or at whom it would be directed.





Enjoyed reading it.

Johnny A

[ponyrl]

I'm tempted to touch this, but I won't.

I still like the feel.

[chaosgoat]

J. Alexopoulos: Wow! You picked that apart good!! Thanks much, man. Your suggestions are a big help. I would never have noticed those grammar and punctuation mistakes myself (me=ADD).

Ponyrl: Well I'm glad you took the time to read it, and that you like!

I'm starting to think that I might turn this story into a short comic for my portfolio....