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31_days2012-02-07 12:14 am
insaneladybug.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2012-02-07 12:14 am
[February 7th] [Perry Mason] Candles and the Snow, 7
Title: Candles and the Snow, scene 7
Day/Theme: February 7th - ... Some say in ice
Series: Perry Mason
Character/Pairing: Hamilton Burger, Mignon Germaine, Lieutenant Tragg
Rating: PG
Time Period: Present day.
This is probably the strangest of the bunch so far.
By Lucky_Ladybug
Hamilton had seen a lot of strange crime scenes through the years. He had seen bathtubs, shallow graves, and freezer chests that had all housed bodies. He had even seen evidence of some having tried to leave a last message before giving up the ghost.
But this was the first time he had seen a body in a walk-in freezer, crumpled beside a huge block of ice. An ice pick was clutched in the man’s stiff fingers. And carved into the ice were crudely made letters.
“What is this, Tragg?” he frowned, studying the exhibit. “Was he scratching out the name of his murderer?”
Tragg looked at him with regret. “For your sake, Mr. Burger, I hope not,” he said.
Hamilton blinked. “Huh? For my sake? Tragg, what . . .”
“Take a closer look,” Tragg nodded. “This is why I called you out.”
Hamilton bent down, squinting at the block of ice. Standing up, he had only seen the letters MI. The man’s hand had been growing steadily weaker; each succeeding letter was increasingly faint. But if Hamilton looked from another angle, he could make out the rest. GNON.
He looked up at Tragg in shock. “Mignon?! That’s what he was trying to write?”
Tragg sighed. “Yeah. Of course, that’s nothing conclusive. It could be another Mignon. But since it’s an uncommon name, I thought you should see it right away.”
Hamilton straightened, a new determined fire ignited in his heart. “Thank you. I’m going to see her now.” He started to head out, then paused. “Oh, and Tragg . . . you’ll see this doesn’t leak out to the papers, won’t you?”
Tragg nodded. “They won’t get any of this until we have something more solid.”
****
Mignon was surprised when Hamilton appeared, somber and worried, on her doorstep. “Hamilton,” she greeted, holding the door open wider. “Come in.” She peered at him. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
Hamilton stepped inside, removing his hat. “Mignon, do you know a man named Jean LaReau?” he asked.
Mignon stiffened. “Yes,” she said.
“When did you see him last?” Hamilton watched her carefully for her reactions. He could not believe Mignon would ever kill anyone except in self-defense. But that did not mean he could let down his guard. He had to examine all the evidence that came his way. When it came to people he knew and cared about, it was what he hated most about his job.
“Two nights ago.” Mignon turned away, clasping her hands. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”
Hamilton sighed. “Yes, he is,” he admitted. “He was found in his restaurant’s walk-in freezer.” He hesitated. “It looks like before he died, he tried to scratch the name Mignon into a block of ice.”
Mignon gave a slow nod. “He was afraid he would be killed,” she said. She turned back to Hamilton. “I begged him to let me tell you, to have you arrange for police protection. He absolutely refused. Instead he gave me a sealed envelope and told me to turn it over to you if and only if he died. He must have carved my name trying to tell the police to come see or call me.”
Hamilton frowned. “Why was he so against having you come to me while he could still be helped?”
Mignon shook her head. “Oh . . . he was always distrustful of the authorities.” She crossed to the desk in her living room and opened the top drawer. “He thought he could protect himself better than they could.”
“Well, we’ll never know now,” said Hamilton, a bit of bitterness and frustration slipping into his voice. He was tired of such people and their crazy thoughts. They usually ended up either seriously hurt or dead. “Did he tell you what was in the envelope?”
Mignon took out a manila package and handed it to him. “No, only that he hoped it would help his daughter. He said that both he and she were in danger from those in organized crime.” She looked at him, her eyes filled with sorrow. “I’ve always respected his wishes, but after he gave me this envelope I wondered if I should go against what he wanted, just this once, and go to you. I had almost decided that I should when you came. Now it’s too late.”
Hamilton hated this part of his job too. He laid a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
Day/Theme: February 7th - ... Some say in ice
Series: Perry Mason
Character/Pairing: Hamilton Burger, Mignon Germaine, Lieutenant Tragg
Rating: PG
Time Period: Present day.
This is probably the strangest of the bunch so far.
Hamilton had seen a lot of strange crime scenes through the years. He had seen bathtubs, shallow graves, and freezer chests that had all housed bodies. He had even seen evidence of some having tried to leave a last message before giving up the ghost.
But this was the first time he had seen a body in a walk-in freezer, crumpled beside a huge block of ice. An ice pick was clutched in the man’s stiff fingers. And carved into the ice were crudely made letters.
“What is this, Tragg?” he frowned, studying the exhibit. “Was he scratching out the name of his murderer?”
Tragg looked at him with regret. “For your sake, Mr. Burger, I hope not,” he said.
Hamilton blinked. “Huh? For my sake? Tragg, what . . .”
“Take a closer look,” Tragg nodded. “This is why I called you out.”
Hamilton bent down, squinting at the block of ice. Standing up, he had only seen the letters MI. The man’s hand had been growing steadily weaker; each succeeding letter was increasingly faint. But if Hamilton looked from another angle, he could make out the rest. GNON.
He looked up at Tragg in shock. “Mignon?! That’s what he was trying to write?”
Tragg sighed. “Yeah. Of course, that’s nothing conclusive. It could be another Mignon. But since it’s an uncommon name, I thought you should see it right away.”
Hamilton straightened, a new determined fire ignited in his heart. “Thank you. I’m going to see her now.” He started to head out, then paused. “Oh, and Tragg . . . you’ll see this doesn’t leak out to the papers, won’t you?”
Tragg nodded. “They won’t get any of this until we have something more solid.”
Mignon was surprised when Hamilton appeared, somber and worried, on her doorstep. “Hamilton,” she greeted, holding the door open wider. “Come in.” She peered at him. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
Hamilton stepped inside, removing his hat. “Mignon, do you know a man named Jean LaReau?” he asked.
Mignon stiffened. “Yes,” she said.
“When did you see him last?” Hamilton watched her carefully for her reactions. He could not believe Mignon would ever kill anyone except in self-defense. But that did not mean he could let down his guard. He had to examine all the evidence that came his way. When it came to people he knew and cared about, it was what he hated most about his job.
“Two nights ago.” Mignon turned away, clasping her hands. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”
Hamilton sighed. “Yes, he is,” he admitted. “He was found in his restaurant’s walk-in freezer.” He hesitated. “It looks like before he died, he tried to scratch the name Mignon into a block of ice.”
Mignon gave a slow nod. “He was afraid he would be killed,” she said. She turned back to Hamilton. “I begged him to let me tell you, to have you arrange for police protection. He absolutely refused. Instead he gave me a sealed envelope and told me to turn it over to you if and only if he died. He must have carved my name trying to tell the police to come see or call me.”
Hamilton frowned. “Why was he so against having you come to me while he could still be helped?”
Mignon shook her head. “Oh . . . he was always distrustful of the authorities.” She crossed to the desk in her living room and opened the top drawer. “He thought he could protect himself better than they could.”
“Well, we’ll never know now,” said Hamilton, a bit of bitterness and frustration slipping into his voice. He was tired of such people and their crazy thoughts. They usually ended up either seriously hurt or dead. “Did he tell you what was in the envelope?”
Mignon took out a manila package and handed it to him. “No, only that he hoped it would help his daughter. He said that both he and she were in danger from those in organized crime.” She looked at him, her eyes filled with sorrow. “I’ve always respected his wishes, but after he gave me this envelope I wondered if I should go against what he wanted, just this once, and go to you. I had almost decided that I should when you came. Now it’s too late.”
Hamilton hated this part of his job too. He laid a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.