bmblbee (bmblbee) wrote in bloodclaim,

Rosebud Murders

Title: The Rosebud Murders 4/45

Author: BmblBee
Rating: M for Mature language and m/m sex
Also warning for violence.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters
or products named in this story
Paring: S/X
Summary: HAU
Spike is a Homicide detective trying
to stop a serial killer before he strikes
again. Xander is a psychic who offers
to help him.

Banner by BmblBee

Spike sat back in his chair and propped his feet up on his desk.
He had lingered in his car at the crime scene long after Faith had
gone. He didn't want to go home and he sure the hell had no intention
of returning to Angel's. They did not have that type relationship and
admittedly, neither of them wanted to.

After giving his limited options some thought, Spike had thrown
the Corvette into gear and headed down to Wooster st. Whipping
into the small parking lot, Spike listened to the jangle of the bell over
the front door of Momma Mabel's and settled in to his favorite booth..

"William! My favorite skinny little white cop. Where you been, boy?
Momma ain't seen you 'roud these parts much. You getting your
pancakes somewhere else? You cheating on Momma Mabel?"

Spike laughed as the short, 300 pound black woman scolded him
and poured him a mug of coffee.

"You know better than that, Mum. You know my heart and my
stomach belong just to you."
Then the smile dropped from his lips as he continued to explain.

"Things have just been crazy lately. You probably heard about the killings.
Can't seem to get a handle on the Bastard. Sorry bout the language.
This case is kickin' my arse."

Mabel patted his shoulder.
"You'll solve it, William. You a good cop. You'll figure it out. Now you
sit right there whilst Mabel gets you some breakfast. You a good boy,

Spike sat alone in the shabby, clean, diner and did his best to choke down
his breakfast. The particulars of the case buzzing wildly through his brain.
He checked his watch repeatedly knowing the ME wouldn't have the
preliminary results on his desk before 9:00, still, he wanted to be there
when it arrived.

He had to know. He had to see if that one little fact was there. The one
that made the difference between this being just one more tragic story
in a city of tragic stories or a hellish nightmare.

He swallowed as much as he could so's not to hurt her feelings,
left a big tip, paid the bill and went back out into the still dark
early morning.

By 5:00 a.m. Spike was back in his corner office in the Homicide department
of the Sheriff's Department. By 6:00 a.m. he had all the files as well as his
field notes from the four related cases spread out in front of him.
At 7:00 a.m. Faith had joined him

"I knew you'd be here. I couldn't sleep either. I just keep thinking if
we start again from square one, treat all this as one case, and take a
fresh look at the evidence we might find what we are missing."

Spike motioned for her to pull up a chair. He was not surprised to find
her trail of thought was exactly on the same train as his. It was why they
worked so well together and why, up to now, they had been so successful.

"I dunno, Pet. We have solved every case we have been given till now.
Now we have four, or is it one? Either way, we 'aven't a tic. 'Ave we?"

Faith collected together the crime scene photos and began spreading
them out, in order, to look for similarities and differences.
"No sweat, Spike. We'll catch this Bastard. Hey where are the......?"

Whatever she was going to ask for was forgotten as Tom, the ME's aid
dropped the file on Spike's desk and with a sympathetic look and a
quick "sorry" turned and was gone. He knew he was the bearer of bad
news, but in this job it was not the first time and certainly wouldn't be the last.

Spike flipped open the manilla file folder and began scan reading, hitting
just the highlights.

"Name's Catherine Holder. White, well nourished, 27 year old female.
Hematoma ruptures in the whites of the eyes as well as bruising around
the throat causing a partially crushed windpipe. Preliminary cause of
death, asphyxiation by strangulation. Victim died sometime between
9 p.m and midnight, yadda,yadda, Wait! Here it is.
Fuck! Victim did not appear to have suffered a sexual assault, however
it is noted that a foreign object was inserted into the vagina post
mortum. Said item was determined to be a rose bud, removed
from the stem."

Spike closed the report and tossed it onto his desk.
"It's him."

Faith tried not to let her disappointment show. She had prayed that
this had been someone, anyone else. Even a copycat would have been
better than this. Trying to come up with something positive to say,
she was, for once, blank.

Spike ran both hands through his hair and began to speak so quietly
his partner wasn't sure if he was talking to her or himself.

"Every case has been the same. No forced entry. No theft of items
from the homes. All victims were female, similar build, long
dark hair, no signs of struggle, not raped. Fucker just strangles them
shoves a fresh red rose bud up their snatch and positions them on their
stomach, arms outstretched. I just don't get it Faith. What the fuck
is his point? What is his reasoning? What the fuck is up with the

Faith shook her head. She had no answer to the same questions she had
asked a thousand times herself. The two of them had agreed with the first
victim to keep the fact of the rose bud secret. They had no idea at the time how
complicated this would become, yet they still fought to have this kept from
the public.
It was their hidden ace. The one sure way to identify the killer.

"Listen, maybe if we start from square one and treat this last case as a separate
one we might come up with something new. We know her boyfriend found her
when she missed a date with him. I think we should go back to her apartment
and start interviewing the neighbors. See if someone heard or saw something

Spike nodded. It was as good an idea as any.
"Right, good. Take a uniform with you. How about that police woman you
were talking to at the scene?"

Faith chuckled as she stood and collected her notepad, and small tape
recorder. If she was able to locate a witness she didn't want to miss a
"Back off Romeo. She's married."

Spike pretended to be disappointed. In truth he hated lying to Faith.
More than anyone he wished he could tell her everything.

"Yeah, well, my loss. Keep in touch and call if you get anything.
I'm going to go over some of this again then head out to talk to the
victims family and boyfriend. I'll catch up with you later and see what
we have."

Faith threw her hand up in agreement and Spike watched her walk off.
Several of the other detectives spoke jokingly to her as she passed
and she took the time to kid and respond to each.

Within the department, Faith was considered to be the human half of
their team. Spike decided a long time ago that he could live with that

Taking the time to collect together the reports and photos, Spike was
just finishing clearing away his desk top before leaving when the
intercom on his desk phone ran. He punched the button bruskly.

"Detective Pratt."

"Yes, detective, I'm sorry to bother you, but there is a young man here
that says he needs to speak to you. He says he may have some information
regarding last nights homicide. Can I send him up?"

Spike paused. Most likely a nut wanting to confess to being the killer
of last night's victim as well as Abe Lincoln and Jimmy Hoffa. It never
took long before the crazies came rolling out. Still, he had nothing else.

"Yeah, sure, send him up. Thanks, Betty,"
  • Post a new comment


    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic