Connections
It was all starting to come together.
Rose. The rose etching on the watch, hammer, diary, photos: almost everything tied to the murder. Now, the hard part was figuring out which Rose. Rose Pittus? Or Dorothy Rose? Both lived in the Foxberry, and to be honest, both were pretty shady figures.
Mr. Salimov, from one floor down, had recently sent Stephanie a note, after which they met for the first time. Apparently he’d thought she sent him the watch so he was just as confused as Stephanie when she revealed she hadn’t. Little by little, pieces started coming together. With her collection, Aydar’s testament, and the remains of the police’s evidence, she had managed to piece together a story.
They both believed that Rose, Pittus that is, wasn’t guilty.
Dorothy Rose was a photographer, after all. She could have taken the two photos of Stephanie, as well as the picture of Mr. Evans that Stephanie Lovett had found in the parking lot and turned in to the police.
They couldn’t be sure, though. Unfortunately, many police files were already missing, leading Stephanie and Aydar to suspect someone had already rifled through them. If only they had access to the station’s security cameras.
Their curiosity, and lack of evidence, led them to watch Dorothy with a close eye. They took turns monitoring activity to and from her apartment, day and night; however their efforts yielded few results. Dorothy seemed completely normal, except her frequent trips to Bea.
Such excruciating efforts led Stephanie to lose track of time in the previous days: she’d been late to work for the first time, late to dinner dates with Oliver and his family, and late to pay her bills. The only thing she wasn’t late for was watching Dorothy. That seemed to be all that mattered at the moment: figuring out if she sent the packages, what she knew about Evans, and how everything might be connected.
Rose. The rose etching on the watch, hammer, diary, photos: almost everything tied to the murder. Now, the hard part was figuring out which Rose. Rose Pittus? Or Dorothy Rose? Both lived in the Foxberry, and to be honest, both were pretty shady figures.
Mr. Salimov, from one floor down, had recently sent Stephanie a note, after which they met for the first time. Apparently he’d thought she sent him the watch so he was just as confused as Stephanie when she revealed she hadn’t. Little by little, pieces started coming together. With her collection, Aydar’s testament, and the remains of the police’s evidence, she had managed to piece together a story.
They both believed that Rose, Pittus that is, wasn’t guilty.
Dorothy Rose was a photographer, after all. She could have taken the two photos of Stephanie, as well as the picture of Mr. Evans that Stephanie Lovett had found in the parking lot and turned in to the police.
They couldn’t be sure, though. Unfortunately, many police files were already missing, leading Stephanie and Aydar to suspect someone had already rifled through them. If only they had access to the station’s security cameras.
Their curiosity, and lack of evidence, led them to watch Dorothy with a close eye. They took turns monitoring activity to and from her apartment, day and night; however their efforts yielded few results. Dorothy seemed completely normal, except her frequent trips to Bea.
Such excruciating efforts led Stephanie to lose track of time in the previous days: she’d been late to work for the first time, late to dinner dates with Oliver and his family, and late to pay her bills. The only thing she wasn’t late for was watching Dorothy. That seemed to be all that mattered at the moment: figuring out if she sent the packages, what she knew about Evans, and how everything might be connected.
Comments
Post a Comment