What Happened to Henry Olsen?

[Beau]

Reed Beaumont made his way to the fifth floor via the fire escape.  Dressed in black, the hood of his sweatshirt covering his blond hair he ascended the old metal stairs soundlessly.  It was art, more than science - where to step, and where to skip a rung of the white painted metal.  Practice made perfect. The sun would be up soon, but for now Reed moved like a shadow up the criss-crossed landings towards his apartment in the Royal Astaire.  His window in 5C was his own private entrance and the glass gave soundlessly under his gloved fingers as he slipped inside.  Booted feet hit the ground, in a catlike maneuver that landed him gracefully on all fours on the hardwood floor, before he stood straight.  The old building didn’t creek in response to his arrival.  Within seconds he shed the tools of his trade: backpack, electronics, rope and skid proof shoes.  All items were inconspicuously stored in the closet. The velvet jewel case went into the safe.  He smiled as he spun the dial, admiring the diamonds one final time before locking them away.

Can never be too careful.  No telling who might have sticky fingers.

Like a normal person, Reed tossed the sweatshirt on the back of the dinette chair.  His apartment was small, one bedroom with an eat in kitchen.  It suited his needs, located in the heart of Cook Town and close to his regular place of work, Marcum Electronics.  Glancing at the clock he wouldn’t have time for a nap before getting ready for the day.

Pity.  He yawned and scratched his head, sleepily.  In sweatpants and a t-shirt he looked rumpled and in need of a shower.  Reed was considering making some coffee when there was a knock at the door.
He hadn’t been moving around, but he stood still, startled by the sound.  Visitors didn’t frequent the fifth floor of the apartment building at six a.m.  It could be a mistake of course.  Apartment 5C was close to the elevator.  A few lost people had asked him for directions before.

The knock sounded again.  “Who is it?”  Reed called.

“Police.”

Unexpected.  Reed didn’t panic.  He was confident this was coincidence.  He’d executed his latest heist without being seen.  Ego didn’t cloud his vision, the crime completely untraceable. With a casual shrug, Reed moved to the door.  On the way he picked up his pair of wireframe glasses.  He didn’t need them to see, but they helped him slip into his daytime persona of nerdy computer geek.

The chain remained on the door as Reed opened it slightly.  Sure enough the blue uniform of Cook Town’s finest greeted him on the other side.  Reed blinked owlishly.  “Can I help you?”

A badge was flashed.  “Sorry to disturb you at this hour.  I’m here about Mr. Henry Olsen in apartment 5A.”

Reed didn’t respond immediately.  He remained behind the chain, waiting to learn more.  No point in volunteering that he didn’t know his neighbor well.   The policeman didn’t seem to mind the silence.  He went on to ask, “When did you last see your neighbor?”

Two doors down technically wasn’t a neighbor.  Olsen was ten years his senior.  Divorced.  They didn’t travel in the same social circle.  “Dunno.  Few days maybe.  I think I passed him in the elevator, but I can’t say for sure.”  He figured it was expected, so he did his best to appear curious, “You looking for him?”

“No,” the police officer said. 

The elevator behind him opened and a pair of men wheeling a gurney got off.  The metal wheels squeaked as they crawled across the floor.  Reed looked beyond the policeman to see the two heading down the hall to the open door of 5A.  He didn’t have time to ask if his fellow resident was hurt.  The policeman informed him.  “He’s been murdered.”

[Ara]

Winifred was not an insomniac. She just didn't sleep much. It was of her personal opinion that lack of sleep could only be insomnia if she considered it a problem.

Just before she opened her bedroom door a shadow moved past the living room window, a figure on the fire escape, there for a moment and gone. She would never know. She flipped the switch on the wall and two lamps lit up in the main room of her small home. The kitchen took a corner of the living room with a tiled counter as a divider that she used as a table, tall chairs on the outer side of it. She had found them at a thrift store downtown, they did not match.

Her apartment was an accumulation of mismatching second hand furniture and stacks of books.

With both hands she pulled her dark auburn hair up and back, pulling the elastic tie from her wrist to bind it up in a messy knot. She was wearing leggings and a bright red hoodie. She would have preferred black or any more neutral color, not particularly one to draw an excess of attention especially when jogging, but when she had been at the rack picking a color her mother's voice had rang clear in the back of her head. The notion of being hit by a car or mugged and going unnoticed on the side of a road until she had bled out or frozen to death forced her hand to drift to the brightest color that was not neon.

She sat on the corner of her couch to pull on her shoes and tie the laces. She needed to buy new ones but it was always an expense she would rather put toward books or jackets. The thought to get a dog occurred to her, not for the first time in the two and a half years she had lived in Cook Town. If she took a dog running with her she wouldn't have to wear a bright hoodie, would she?

She put her ear buds in and bounced on her toes, trying to get her blood pumping. Music flooded her ears and she closed her eyes, nodding and trying to convince herself that running wasn't the worst thing in the world. It was, of course, and that's why it was the best exercise. She pulled her hood up and picked up her keys from the little hook on the wall near the door, unbolting the four different locks before opening her door. She bounced in the hall, closing the door and locking it before hooking her finger through the key loop.

She didn't notice the cops down the hall taking a look around the fourth floor. She started jogging toward the other end of the corridor where the door to the stairwell was.

"Hey!" One of the two police officers called at her back. Win did not hear him. A few more steps and he had taken a handful to follow, shouting for her to stop where she was. She continued to bounce along toward the door. It wasn't until she neared the shining elevator doors just before the left turn to the stairwell that she caught the slightly blurred reflection of the officers behind her.

Win whirled around to see two cops standing in the hall, one talking on his radio who she paid very little attention to and the second holding a gun with both hands aimed toward her. Her whole body froze but her heart raced. Both of her hands lifted, her keyring still around her fingers and keys against her palm. Her gray eyes shot wide and she watched his mouth move, her music still blaring in her ears. "I can't hear you!" She yelled back at him, pointing with some irritation at her ears and the hoodie, white cords from her ear buds hanging out.

Very slowly, she moved one hand closer to her head to tug out her headphones.

"Where do you think you're going?" The cop demanded loudly, edging toward her.

"For a jog." She replied, eyes narrowed. This was not going to be a story for her mother to hear about. Unless he shot her of course.. then she supposed her mother would have to hear about it.

"At six in the morning?" He demanded, lowering his gun a little.

"Yeah." She half sneered in return. Win had never had a weapon pointed at her before, turned out she didn't like it. "When do you go for your jogs?" She couldn't help but bite out, eyeing his gut briefly. She was usually a fan of manners but this morning had already proven to be most unusual.

He frowned but relaxed, putting his gun back in the holster though not strapping it in, she noticed. He pointed toward the corner of wall on the other side of the elevator away from the stairs. "Stand there." He ordered and she felt inclined to comply, lowering her arms but watching him almost as suspiciously as he watched her. "What's your name and what apartment do you live in."

"Winifred Hart. 4C." She answered and he relayed the information to his friend who seemed to check his little notebook.

[Lightning]

His sister shook him, the gesture not too rough, but not too gentle, just enough to stir him, her voice a bit loud with alert. She claimed there was a commotion going on outside, and she insisted that he'd go check it out. Alec opened one eye, groggy, looking her over. She was still dressed in her night clothes, hair a bit out of place. For a second, he wanted to tell her to go away as he was far too tired for this. The previous night at Cat's Eye had been long and tiring; he'd only been asleep for about three hours. She should have known better than to bother him, especially at such an hour, but one look at her face and he knew he couldn't be upset at her.

Slowly, Alec pushed away his grey bedsheets, sat up and ran a long fingered hand through his dark hair, mussed by his tossing and turning in bed. Now with his bedroom door open, he could hear the commotion coming from the hall; his neighbors seeming to be awfully noisy for such an early hour in the day.

His step-sister said something else as he stood, heading for the door with only a pair of black pajama pants on to cover him. Usually, he wouldn't dare go out in public like this, having a tendency to care about being neat and tidy, a fact not commonly known by the way he carried himself, almost in a careless manner. He was often known to most of the apartment complex as the man who stood outside the building into the wee hours of the night, smoking away a pack of cigarettes while flicking their white remains onto the dark streets.

The voices were a lot louder at the door, Alec finally distinguishing its source, his neighbor, Hart or something saying something about jogging. He unlocked the door and stuck his head out just in time to catch the source of the voice he didn't recognize putting his gun away. Now he understood why his sister had been concerned.

"What's going on?" The pianist asked, most of him still inside his apartment, not really wanting to come out into the hall. He noted the stranger's clothes, a police uniform. It explained the gun, but not quite why he was here.

The stocky cop turned his attention on Alec, eyes unblinking, "Questioning. A man upstairs has been murdered."

The Colton man wanted to say Yeah? You gonna aim that gun at me too? but he held his tongue. This guy was obviously hot tempered, there was no good reason to make it any worse.

"You mind stepping outside? I'd like to ask you a few questions too." The cop gestured with one hand, and Alec wanted to refuse him, but he stepped out of his apartment reluctantly, his feet still bare. The officer took in his appearance with one obviously judgmental look before turning back to his neighbor, obviously dressed for a run.

Briefly, Alec wondered who had been murdered upstairs. He wasn't overly familiar with most of the people that lived above him, only seeing them occasionally on the elevator or outside the building. It was odd thinking there was now one less of them, even odder to think he'd been killed. Maybe it was time to get some new locks for the door.

"Make it quick then. I'd like to go back to bed before the afternoon." Alec shut the door behind him only to lean his weight against it, crossing his arms over his bare chest.

[Beau]

“Murdered?” Reed repeated the officer’s words with a hint of shock in his voice.  His neighbor didn’t seem like the type to have a jealous girlfriend or a bookie.  “How?”

The policeman didn’t seem inclined to talk.  “Shot,” his answer just the one syllable without the gory details.  “Did you hear anything unusual last night?”

Reed shook his head.  He didn’t want to admit he hadn’t been here, and didn’t want to lie to fake the alibi.  “As far as I know, Mr. Olsen,” a deliberate choice at formality, “lived alone.  I’ve seen his daughter a couple times, but he didn’t have friends over much, or host loud parties. Things are pretty quiet on that end of the building.” 

Except for the music. Reed decided to leave out his annoyance with the downstairs piano player who liked to play when Reed liked to sleep. 

A siren could be heard.  Reed looked over his shoulder towards the window that lead to the fire escape. He hoped it wasn’t a fire truck, and an evacuation.  He didn’t want anyone paying too much attention to the fire escape and its obvious use.

Reed unchained the door.  The policeman was starting to walk away, perhaps to hassle some other neighbor.

“There isn’t a fire or something is there?” Reed asked, curious about the sirens.

“Alarm would have sounded if there was,” the policeman said.  His hand knocked on another apartment door.  “That’s probably the meat wagon.”

So Henry’s dead but you need to wake us all up to celebrate?  He couldn’t fathom the need for the siren.  Then again, he’d read crime fiction.  Time of death was easier to determine the faster you started the autopsy.  Maybe there was some urgency.

The gurney was wheeled out.  A white sheet covered the boy and hid the contents from curious eyes.  The elevator opened again, and a man with a camera stepped out.  Probably part of the crime lab. 

Reed decided to linger in the corridor for a few moments and see if there was any reaction from the residents on the floor.

[Peregrine]

Kate pulled herself out of the final turn into a perfect stand still as the music reached the final crashing crescendo and was gulping in air as the pounding at her door could finally be heard in the following silence.

She pushed a button on the mp3 player to keep it from moving on to the next song as she padded across the floor. She grabbed a bottle of water and a towel from the small table next to the door as she pulled her ear buds out. She took a drink and ran the towel across her face as she opened the door.

The sudden movement startled the rather young looking cop on the other side and his hand came forward and he stopped it in mid air before he knocked on her face.

She raised a brow, "Can I help you?" Kate was used to fans, but hadn't really had a problem with it since moving in here, part of the appeal of coming to a place that wasn't exactly a blip on the radar, but wasn't New York or Hollywood or the like.

"Yes, um, we're investigating a homicide that took place below you. Did you happen to hear or see anything unusual in the last twenty four hours?"

Kate's brow arched, "This whole place is strange, but no, nothing out of the ordinary that I can recall."

The officer scribbled something in his note book and looked back up at her, "Do you happen to know who lives in 6A and 6B, we were told they were occupied, but no one answered when we knocked."

Pounded is more like.

She smiled pleasantly, though it didn't reach her eyes. "I live there."

The officer looked confused and looked across and down the hall, "In which one?"

"Both of them," she stated baldly.

He looked her up and down and glanced behind her at the empty space and looked even more confused.

She shrugged a little and answered without prompting, "I knew people who know the owner and they are remodeling it for me into one single space." 6A was a glorified closet with a toilet and small kitchen, 6B was a living room, and three bed rooms, with a kitchen sink, but no bathroom, it baffled her, but it was all turning into one medium sized apartment for her now. She shrugged, "But we're getting off topic here, you said you were investigating a homicide?"

A look of recognition came to his face now but he tried to hide it and instead blinked rapidly and looked down at his notes flipping through them, "Umm, yes, Mr. Henry Olsen in apartment 5A was found dead, we have reason to believe it wasn't of natural causes. Can you tell me specifically what you were doing last night between the hours of 12 and 4 am?"

Kate's brow furrowed. She'd had several conversations with Henry on the elevator or when she was picking up her mail or ran into him in the lobby. While he wasn't anything extraordinary from what she'd observed, he seemed a descent fellow and she couldn't think of a reason anyone would want to kill him.

She shook her head, "Why don't we go over to my apartment, " she started walking out the door and he moved oddly away from her as she did so and shut the door. Walking across the hall to her living space and opening 6B, all while she talked, "I hope it wasn't Hillary that found him, poor girl." She shook her head at the thought and then came back around to his question, "I was at the Cat's Eye until half past twelve, listening to the pianist. I got home at about a quarter to one, then went to bed."

She had let him follow her in and gone over to the half plastic covered kitchen and opened the fridge and got out a bottle of juice.

"Can anyone verify that?"

Kate turned around, "Well, the bartender probably, I sat at the far end near the stage. When I got back I passed someone in the lobby on my way up, but I've only been here a few weeks and I couldn't tell you if they were a tenant or a visitor, so that won't help, and I sleep alone."

He was busy scribbling in his note book again and looked at her, "Again, did you hear or see anything unusual after you got home? Your... apartments are situated above the victims, anything really, will help."

Kate leaned lazily against the counter and went up and down on her toes a few times stretching out her legs to keep them warm so she could go back to C in a few minutes when this was all done. She thought about it.

"I don't know that it is unusual as Henry seemed to be a night owl and I often heard him doing something, probably the TV on some nights, but last night it sounded like he was rearranging his furniture, I'm not sure what time, but it was loud enough it woke me up but I was able to go back to sleep."

The cop made more scribbles and then flipped the notebook shut, "Thank you Miss Molloy, if you think of anything else, please give us a call." He dropped a card on an end table in her living room where he had walked into and stayed.

She knew she hadn't given him her name, and that he really had recognized her from something. She just hoped he kept his mouth shut about it.

She nodded, "Sure thing Officer." He started walking toward the door and then stopped and tapped his little note book he was holding against his opposite fingers and seemed to have an internal debate. She'd seen it before and started walking toward him with her hand out stretched. "Who do you want me to make it out to?"

She saw his face redden as he flipped it to the back and handed it over with his pen, "Chris if you wouldn't mind."

It didn't really matter if she did mind since she was already scribbling something out for him. She handed it back with a smile. She didn't hate scribbling her name for people, but she didn't really want to be bothered right now either. "I'll make sure and call if anything else comes to mind."

It was a subtle dismissal and he nodded, tipping his hat and going back out in the hall to presumably harass anyone else on the floor.

She waited a few moments and then walked out, closing the 6B door and going back over to C. Once she was back in though she couldn't bring herself to finish her morning work-out. She'd been up since just after five and was now wondering if coming here was a good idea.

Her uncle somehow knew someone that knew the owners or he knew them or something and had helped arrange her here. She'd been touring and going non-stop for what felt like forever and the inevitable exhaustion had caught up with her. She wasn't a super star, her fame was still on the small side since she preferred to tour with the dance company than do all the other stuff her agent wanted her to, but it was enough to wear on her when she was spotted with an "A lister" at a club a few months ago.

She just wanted some space, no she needed some space, she wasn't sure she wanted the life she had trained so hard for anymore and so with a few calls from her mother to her uncle and some frustrating conversations with her agent,  here she was.

She took a few minutes to stretch out and throw some sweat pants and a loose top on over her leotard, and slipped out of her point shoes into some slippers before she headed down stairs. She didn't know many of the people in the building, but she'd met Henry's daughter once and figured the least she could do if the girl was here, was to give her her condolences.

[Ara]

Win was decidedly slow about pulling her mp3 players from her pocket and turning it off. When the cop asked her to, she pushed back her hood and continued to stand in the corner, feeling much like a child- though she hoped most children did not need the threat of a gun to put them on timeout. It wasn't that she was opposed to timeouts so much as she had done nothing to deserve one. In fact, she had been trying to go out for a run- something that is, no matter how well you do it, horrible. Running is only good if it's horrible, otherwise you aren't doing it right.

Winifred Hart vaguely wished that she were a more composed and charming person rather than the sort that let words pop wildly out of her mouth. She had to remind herself that this had started with the cop pointing the gun at her and again- was not any fault of hers.

She looked apologetically at her neighbor when he seemed to get pulled out into this mess as well, though she still maintained inwardly that she had done absolutely nothing wrong.

There was a siren and from the windows on the far side of the building she could see lights. "Are we in danger?" Win asked, never really good at being quiet. "Can I just go back inside my place and-"

"No." The cop said, pointing a finger and a pen at her. At least a pen was better than a gun. He still looked cross with her. "You stay there until I ask you a few questions."

She scowled at his back when he turned to the man at his door again, asking him if he knew a Henry Olsen. Win crossed her arms and leaned her shoulder into the wall. "Wasn't I in line for questioning first? I don't know him. Can I go on my run? You could question me when I get back." She offered and for the first time in her life, she realized that she was not a morning person. Had she always been this irritable? She wanted to think not but the more thought she gave it..

"Ma'am, if you don't stay put and wait I'll take you down to the precinct and you can answer questions there."

She stared at him until he turned back to the guy that lived next door to her. She had seen him in the hall a few times with a petite woman, she guessed it was his girlfriend. She mouthed the word 'Ma'am' in exaggerated disbelief and then tried not to frown. This was no way to start a morning, meet a neighbor or handle the death of someone in her building.

[astrangecharm]

Noah Palmer

The keys jangled on his belt as he walked home from the bar. He checked his watch, the dial indicated it was indeed six am. God damn, he needed to stop falling asleep at there. After doing all his cleaning he did like to sit before the long walk home- but more often than not his heavy eyes would droop until his his head hit the wooden counter.

His eyes squinted at the grey horizon toward the royal astaire. There was something unusual there...holy shit, was that an ambulance? He could hear his blood pumping in his ears- What time did Alec leave? It was a little after last call wasn't it? His stomach dropped as he saw them wheel out a gurney topped with a filled bodybag. He sprinted past all the comotion pushing past the small crowd of on lookers and into the building and straight to the stairwell.He didnt trust the elevator, tricky thing usually jammed.   His heart pounded in time with his steps as he took them two at a time and he busted through the fourth floor door with a bang. Some how he did not expect to be faced with uniformed officers aiming guns.

“Hands in the air!” He complied and slowly put his arms up. Stupid, stupid, stupid. How bad did this look? He scanned the hallway, spotting his coworker nearby. His body sank alittle, like it had been puffed up with a breath of anticipation. He felt guilty but relieved that it wasn't Alec or Willa.

'I-I'm sorry Officer! I just saw the ambulence and I guess I just freaked, ya know? I got friends who live here.” He paused to exchange a glance with Alec. His friend looked surlier than ever, standing there in his pajamas, his arms crossed. Noah reminded himself to never interrupt his beauty sleep, he guessed pretty boy needed it.

“ Just what in the hell did you think you were going to accomplish by acting that way?” The cop asked. Noah hung his head. “Never mind that, Where were you between the hours of ten pm and four am?”

Noah's arms were beginning to ache, they were still raised in surrender. “Working at the Cat's eye, with Alec.” he nodded to his neighbor. “ He was there till three, I was there till five thirty. The owner can show you. We have security cams.” The officer nodded and reported this into his radio- supposedly to verify.

“Alright, We're going to follow that up- Don't go leaving town now. I'll need a statement from both of you after I'm done with this young lady.” the officer turned to his neighbor- Noah recognised her. She was that clerk at the bookstore. He took this as a signal that he could relax and put his arms down.

Striding over to Alec, he gave him 'what the fuck is going on' look. Rather than ask the obvious gruseome question ( He was sure he'd know soon enough)  “Jesus, Im glad we were working last night- I do not need this shit right now. Is Willa okay?”