[ WP ] `` Ana , until high school , had been an obedient child ''

`` Oh, uh, Good evening detectives. Please, come in. Have a seat. Marie will be right out. She's calming down a bit....W- we got stirred up a bit when you called to come speak with us.'' 
 
 `` Just relax, we'll take this nice and slow. We aren ’ t here on any bad terms, simply, to ask you guys a few questions. I cant imagine a worse tragedy than losing a child. You can call the shots on the pace Mr. Bumgar --'' 
 
 `` Dave. You c- can just call me Dave… And you?'' 
 
 “ The name ’ s Detective Phillip Tate. But I supose just Phillip will suffice. ” 
 
 Dave chuckled slightly too loudly and slightly too forcedly. 
 “ Hah, no uh Detective Phillip Marlow? ” Dave joked. 
 
 “ I ’ m sorry? ” Detective Tate looked up from the table he was arranging things from his hip bag on 
 
 “ Oh… never-… He ’ s a character in some old detective books. Written by, um, R-Raymond C-Chandlers. And you ’ re both detectives so….. 
 
 The stuffy silence in the small pallor room stopped at Dave ’ s ears. A dull ringing had taken to gradually arising from silence to a piercing ringing that made Dave ’ s eyes shake. This uncomfortable sensation enveloped him anytime he sat still and his thoughts ventured to his Ana. The ringing in his ears now was at a strong whine. Dave shifted uncomfortably against the rough seat cushion. 
 
 The buzz of a zipper whipped from a polished leather portfolio. Its screech bore into Dave Bumgarners skull like a drill. The click of a pen stabbed his gut. Papers, dragging over one another was like taking sandpaper to his shins. 
 
 “ I ’ m gon na put on a fresh pot of coffee, ” Dave jolted up “ y ’ all want some? ” 
 
 “ We ’ re fine. Appreciate it though. ” 
 
 Dave entered the kitchen and slowly shuffled his ratty moccasins with the holes around both big toes across the first cold tile square. Grasping the doorjamb, Dave rolled his neck and sighed deeply. He had stayed up for 3 days straight in terror, with Marie, while an all-out manhunt searched for their daughter. Then another two nights were sleepless after they got the news. Dave ’ s body creaked slowly across the dimly lit kitchen, where most of the light came from Marie ’ s bright copper pots multiplying the light from a single countertop lamp. He looked down. Focusing on only “ L ” paths in the tiles. Two up, one over. Dave stood in the threshold of the dismal kitchen. The last warm vapors from delicious confectionaries have been gone for a long time. 
 
 Dave shuffled a few feet forward and stopped. He stood and calculated his potential moves. Like a grand chess master, Dave analyzed each move for himself, the weary and downtrodden knight. Looking down, he counted each tile. Right, Right, Up. No, that would take him to the refrigerator. Right, Right, Down. The very last place Dave wanted to go was back in there with the detectives.. Back, Back, Left. Dave wanted more than anything for him to be moved Back Back Left. Then he could just grab his keys hanging by the door and drive away from here. Up, Up, Right. Nope. Left, Left, Down. That would take him downstairs. To Ana ’ s room. 
 
 Dave snapped his head up and strode towards the coffee machine on the counter. 
 
 “ Mr. Bumgar- er Dave, ” began Det. Phillip, entering the kitchen. Some others on my team are gon na get here shortly and they just need to look through Ana ’ s room and belongings for a bit. Anything you can find for us about any recent activities for us would be great. I ’ ll let the agents in when they arrive. You and your wife just take your time, now. ” 
 
 “ Y-uh-Sure thing, ” replied Dave dully. Dave delved into his special coffee procedure. Everything had to be done perfectly down to the average grind surface area to get optimal flavor extraction. Setting the pot to boil, Dave went and knocked softly on the bedroom door. A muffled sniff and cough preceded a weak mumble. 
 
 “ Honey. It ’ s time. They ’ re waiting downstairs. ” 
 
 Dave escaped back to his personal alchemy lab. He hand ground the beans he had specially shipped. He cupped the coarse grind and lowered his face into it. He took a deep whiff and felt the musk of the beans whip up his nostrils. The pungent odors separated as he took another breath from his hands. The dark dirt scent that clings under the smell of fresh coffee beans, the cacao scent that pierces the nostril with that deep woody chocolate smell. Dave relished their intoxicating odor. Marie entering the kitchen brought Dave back to reality and he sheepishly put the ground beans in the machine and dusted the clinging particles off his fingers. 
 
 Dave put a reassuring hand on the small of Marie ’ s back and led her towards the growing murmurs of the detectives in the parlor. 
 
 “ Hi Mrs. Bumgarner, I ’ m Detective Phillip Tate. Your husband and me have been gettin ’ to know each other a bit so we ’ re about ready to start covering some bases. My associates here are going to do a routine scan of Ana ’ s room, which if I understand correctly, is on the lower floor? ” 
 
 Dave nodded and the 4 other detectives filed out of the room. 
 
 “ What can you tell me about Ana ’ s behavior over the past few years? ” 
 
 “ Her behavior? ” said Marie. “ Well… Ana… was our angel… until highschool. Before then she had always been an obedient child. I guess… Well… It was her sophomore year when she changed and around Christmas she was diagnosed with a severe depressive episode. ” 
 
 “ She changed, ” Dave continued, “ and living with her was… difficult. She would sap the house of happiness. No matter what we tried…. goddamnit.... No matter what we tried, she would only respond w-with hostility. She turned her back on us and spent all her time with those scumbag friends! They even got her hooked on the pot! 
 
 “ Why exactly are we talking about her behavior? ” began Marie “ What more do you people have to ask us? I ’ ve been talking non-stop for three days now! ” 
 
 “ Well Mrs Bumgarner, ” began Det. Phillip, “ there have been recent developments in the case regarding your daughters death. Some connections are popping up between her case and other serial cases. One from that night in particular. A multiple homicide. ” 
 
 The grandfather clock in the living room, two rooms away, ticked through the dense silence. 
 
 “ What are y-you saying Detective? ” Marie ’ s voice peaked earnestly “ 
 
 “ Relax, please. There are just certain things that need to be addressed. No reason for alarm. The tox-screen has been completed and it indicated severe impairment on the night of her suicide. ” 
 
 “ I ’ m gon na check the coffee… ” Dave jumped at the break. Ana ’ s drug use tore Dave apart. 
 
 Det. Phillip nodded and shifted into a new position. These talks took time, the last place an officer wants to be snooping for clues is in the home of grieving parents. But justice is worth tedious task. Detective Phillip thought of his old chief. He had told them that with a sly grin anytime someone would complain about paperwork. 
 
 Ahh the sweet elixir is brewing before me, thought Dave. The dull ringing in his ears subsided slightly as he caught a whiff of the brew. The aromas filled the kitchen and Dave fished down his favorite mug. It was a special titanium chambered mug that was supposed to be unbreakable, lightweight, and retain heat better than any other mug on the market. Dave leaned forward; staring blankly at the tantalizingly slow line of coffee crept up the sides of the pot. Behind him he could hear Marie raising her voice. Dave couldn ’ t handle mere seconds with Marie. Being around here was agony. All they had together is destroyed. What ’ s the point any longer, Dave wondered. The ringing in Dave ’ s ears was becoming deafening. Marie ’ s tearstained cheeks, too similar to Ana ’ s as she ran crying to him after being stung by a bee, so many years ago. 
 One of the detectives rushed quickly into the kitchen from downstairs. The slender framed detective skipped aside to avoid bumping into Dave, still jack-knifed over. 
 
 “ Everything alright? ” asked Dave 
 
 “ Yes. Sorry, I-uh I just need to borrow Detective Tate for a minute. ” 
 
 Dave slowed his turn back to the coffee. He let his eyes trace each intricate swirl in the woodwork lining the ceiling. Prolonging the return to his brew as long as he could stand it, Dave flipped open the cover on Marie ’ s Gardening Digest magazine. Dave shot a fervent glance at the level of coffee. Dismay fell upon him. He was certain that the pot would have been at least three quarters full. But it hadn ’ t even budged from the equator of the coffee pot Bored, Dave poured 2 tablespoons of cream into his mug, He added a third spoonful of skim milk, and tossed in a brown sugar-cube. 
 
 He gleefully stood and swirled the lesser ingredients as Detective Tate walked back through the room and downstairs. Dave turned to follow him but Marie ’ s raised voice had become hysterics in the parlor. He turned back and listened from the kitchen. The other detectives weren ’ t doing as good a job keeping Marie calm as Det. Phillip had. 

