Chapter 4 - Case One:3

Chapter Three - Case 1:3

Ryiza sat on her bed, bare foot and crossed legged, her head cocked to one side and her arms folded as she contemplated the pictures and the notes sprawled out across the upper bunk. “Hmm…”

“Got anything yet?” Ryan asked as he hauled himself up onto his bunk, careful not to disturb anything as he settled across from her. He handed her a popsicle salvaged from the freezer, already dripping down his fingers.

“No,” she retorted. “I wish we could interview Mr. McConvile.”

“Well, I'll see if I can nab Mom's notes,” Ryan reassured her.

Ryiza frowned as she unfolded her legs and stretched them out on either side of her. “The blood droplets…” she started slowly. “Have something to do with it.”

“I don't think he was attacked in the kitchen,” Ryan pointed out. He turned his gaze to the photographs of the kitchen, neat and organized with everything having a place. “Geez…what a neat freak.”

Ryiza looked at the photograph copies they had Xeroxed off their mother's notes, photos taken before the investigators got to the kitchen. “Agreed,” she nodded. “The kind of guy to spaz when you leave the door open…”

The pair both turned their heads when they heard their own door open as if on cue and their mother's keys jingle as she called, “Kids! I'm home!”

“Hi Mom!” they chorused in sync before stuffing their treats into their mouths and rapidly gathered up their copy of the reports. Ryan crammed them into his pillowcase as Amy entered the room, releasing her hair from a ponytail and shaking the light blonde strands loose.

Ryiza removed her popsicle from her mouth to greet, “Welcome home. Hard day?”

“It's not even over yet,” she replied, stretching. Then she rested her arms on the top bunk between her children and with a smile asked, “So how was your day?”

“Boring,” Ryan mumbled around his popsicle. “It's been raining all day.”

“Well if you're so bored you can come help me make dinner,” she stated, patting both of their legs as they groaned. “Oh yes, how hard. Let's go you two.”

Both jumped down from the higher bunk and were scolded lightly with, “Ryan! Ryiza! There's a ladder for a reason!” They made faces at each other while following their mother into the kitchen, ignoring the grumbles about breaking their necks.

“What's for dinner?” Ryiza asked as she slid into one of the chairs at the counter.

“Well, I was hoping for something healthy…How's homemade pizza sound?”

“Made out of what?” Ryan teasingly tested and his mother lightly smacked his brown curls.

Amy got the block of cheese out of the fridge and placed it with the grater in front of Ryiza, while instructing Ryan to get out and slice the sausage for pepperoni. “So…” she started, fetching the recipe for pizza dough from her box. The twins looked eagerly to their mother as they set about doing their assigned tasks. “A photograph was taken of a cute little girl lighting a candle on a table in front of a large picture window, the flame being the only source of light in the photo.”

“Okay…” Ryiza nodded, her attention focused more on her mother's words that the task of grating cheese.

“Through the window, outside, there's a body falling, the moment caught miraculously by the camera. An elderly woman, named Mrs…” Amy paused, searching for a name.

“Bob,” Ryan offered with a grin.

Amy laughed. “Robbinson,” she continued. “She's seventy-three, lives alone, weighs eighty-five pounds.”

“That's a small woman,” Ryiza observed.

“She's old,” Ryan explained away, then asked, “Where was the picture taken?”

“In an apartment, seventh floor.”

“Did Mrs. Robbinson live in the building?” Ryiza questioned, completely ignoring the cheese and turning to face her mother.

“Yes. On the ninth floor.” Amy smiled at her children's inquisitive nature. “Now, it was night outside, and very windy, with wind up to 65 miles an hour. The cops assume she was on the balcony, and the wind made her off-balance and she fell over the balcony.”

Ryan leaned over to his sister and the two whispered back and forth for a moment. Amy continued mixing the dough, and was rolling it out onto wax paper when Ryiza announced their verdict. “The photograph is faked,” she proclaimed, both returning to their work.

“Why?” Amy asked.

“If the candle was the only light source,” Ryan started plainly, “The camera would have had to use a flash.”

“The flash would have reflected off the window,” Ryiza added. “So the window would have to be open to catch the image of Mrs. Robbinson's body.”

“Maybe the window was open.” Amy set the soon-to-be pizza crust in front of her children, who smeared the pasta sauce from a jar across it.

“Impossible,” Ryan retorted promptly.

“Why?” Amy rested on her elbows on the counter, allowing her children to finish the task of laying out cheese and pepperoni on top of the sauce.

“If there were really winds of 65 miles an hour-”

“-and the window was open-”

“Then candle would have been blown out.”

“It was murder, most likely by the person taking the photograph.”

Amy nodded at her twins, satisfied, before sliding the pizza into the oven. Ryan and Ryiza shared a high five.

“What do you two want with dinner?” she asked.

“Cookies,” Ryan stated immediately.

“How long until dinner is ready?” Ryiza asked politely.

“About twenty minutes.”

Ryiza slid off the stool and moved for the door. “I think I'll go read my school book then,” she announced.

“And I'll play gameboy,” Ryan added, following after his sister. Amy grinned to herself and leaned against the counter for a moment before following. She paused outside their door, listening to their panicked voices.

“I put them into the pillow case, I swear!”

“Where did they go then? That was everything we had on the case!”

Amy opened the door and leaned against the frame with one hand on her hip. Both Ryan and Ryiza froze like they were caught with their hands in the cookie jar. Ryiza was on the top bunk, having torn apart the bedding and Ryan stood on the railing of the bottom bunk.

“If you're going to be good detectives, you'll need to get better hiding spaces,” she stated, holding up their wad of papers. Ryan swallowed hard.

“Would you believe that's my science homework?” Ryiza meekly tested.

Amy gently laughed, and crossed the room to tap her son's head with the papers. “Technically, you shouldn't have these. It's illegal.” She left them resting on his head as she turned and left the room. “Get that book read, Ryiza,” she called back to them.

Ryiza plucked the papers from her brother's head and sighed. “It's like living with the Inquisitor,” she mumbled, spreading their work out across the bed again. Ryan rested his chin on the railing for a moment, before grinning and reaching out to tap a paper.

“Or a member of the forensics team.”

Ryiza squealed in delight to see the autopsy report, along with photographs of the defendant. “We're getting mom a good birthday present,” she informed her twin, before excitedly reading the words of autopsy report. Her excitement turned to disappointment. “Drat. He died from the gunshot wound, in the garage. Rigor mortis proved it.”

“Well, here's a tidbit that'll interest you,” Ryan replied, setting the page of photographs down for his sister to see. “His chest and arms - look.”

She looked at the images, frowning slightly. “Ewww…he's all hairy.”

“He's a grown-up,” Ryan stated impatiently, before pointing out, “There's incised wounds, but no stabs wounds.”

Ryiza inspected the photographs, showing several slashes were made across the chest. “Stab wounds aren't always in assault cases.”

“Yes…but look at where they are. On his chest.”

“He said he was attacked.”

Ryan let out a puff of air aimed at his hair, hanging into his grey eyes. “Yes, but if someone was attacking you, then wouldn't you defend yourself? I mean, he pulled a gun.”

Ryiza looked at the pictures again, and noticed a lack of wounds anywhere else on the body. “Hmm…maybe he was in surprise or shock?”

“That's what Mr. McConvile said,” Amy quipped from the doorway. “Come on you two, dinner's ready.” They groaned and got off the bed, walking after their mother to the kitchen.

“Get some forks, Ryiza,” their mother ordered as she pulled plates down from the shelf. Ryiza started to open the drawer, but stopped.

“Why?” she asked. “We're having pizza.”

“Oh…yeah,” Amy shook her head. “I forgot.” Ryiza sighed and moved to shut the door. She paused.

“Rye!” her grey eyes lit up excitedly. “Case solved!”

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