A murder in Central Park

An investigative short story, it includes some murders and a twist.

A murder in the middle of The Ramble, bullet in the head, dropped dead right there; sounds like the typical murder novel, right?

Unless the victim was Neil Patrick Harris. I worked as a new cop in the Murder Department in the NYPD; so this was my first murder.

Everybody says the first murder is the worst. For me it was, specially being a TV fan, seeing NPH dead was quite a hard punch for me.

Sorry, let me introduce myself first. I am Allen Murphy, 27. I was born in New York in 1986. I was currently engaged with a graphic novel writer, Michelle Harris, 26. We lived happily in a flat in Manhattan.

Going back to the crime scene after the sighting was not easy, the mettalic stench of blood flooded the place, and seeing the dead body right there, lying colorless was shocking. Obviously everybody was used to seeing dead bodies 3-4 times a week.

An autopsy was made, even though we thought the CODwas obvious, it was not, it was blunt force trauma, which lead to intracraneal hemorraghing, so he was given a "coup de grace", which was in the forrm of a .45 hollow point, even though he was already dead.

The UNSUB went out in the dead of night at 3 a.m. on July 7^th,2013 with my own .45, loaded 1 hollow point I had in the safe, grabbed a cast iron pan from the kitchen and went to the victim's apartment, in Morningside Ave. and W 117^thStreet, broke in, killed him, went to Central Park with the body in the trunk of the car, dropped him in The Ramble, and gave him the alleged coup de grace.

Here is where things started getting tricky, as they found the casing of the bullet on the ground.

Usual procedure includes a ballistics check, and finally something came up: the gun was MY gun!

A month has been since the murder happened. Over the course of that said month I was interrogated countless times, took 5 GSR tests, 2 poligraph tests and spent 12 hours declaring the whole story to IA. All came out negative. The reason they believed me was that I had an actual, checkable alibi.

We finally found the pan in his apartment. No fingerprints, no DNA. Nothing.

The funeral was quite shocking, as 5000 people reunited to say a final goodbye to the actor that had made them laugh over the course of 7 years. My fiancé and I went there, but the odd thing was that she showed a face that was creepier than anything; a face void from any emotion. An outright poker face.

The weird thing is; I started to have suspicions about my fiancé, so one day I confronted her.

She outright denied it, I believed her.

2 months later, we got another case, regular old guy found in an alley. Same MO. Whack in the head, this time with a steel bar that was lying there, and a coup de grace with a .45 hollow point to the head, which came out losing, AKA, totally blown apart. I won't get into all the gory details, but you get the point.

Again, my gun, all the tests and declarations aforementioned had to be done again; to no avail.

The victim was a John Doe; no ID, no form of identification, as fingerprints, DNA nor dental prints came up in CODIS nor AFIS so he was taken to the body deposit until someone identified him.

I begun to have some serious suspicions about my fiancé at that moment.

Why the UNSUB killed both of them was something that puzzled the whole Murder Department.

Here is where it gets creepy. I woke up violently in the middle of the night by the sound of a cocking gun, and I saw Michelle right there, pointing my gun dead center at my face. Then she pulled the trigger with the same emotionless face she had at the funeral. That was the last thing I remember.

I woke up a month later surrounded by doctors. They said my case was a miracle, as no one that takes a .45 hollow point square in the face survives, but this time, the ricochet of the gun saved me. I had no memory of the event whatsoever, so I did not remember who shot me, until I got out of the ICU three weeks later.

A month later I started remembering the event; when she shot me, I was falling through a seemingly endless void.

I still don't know how I survived, but someone must have called 911, but it was weird, as the bullet tore my temporal lobe in half but did not expand; maybe that was the reason I survived with no noticeable sequels. Yet...

A month and a half after my attempted assasination, I was smoking a cig on the street when I saw her. My agressor and now ex-fiancé. Michelle Harris.

I knew she was my assailant because I saw her face with the same expressionless face she had when she shot me.

I thought about pursuing her and calling for backup, but I quickly forgot the idea, as she could press charges against me for arrest under probable cause, which I did not want. How ironic, huh? Sent to jail because of chasing the woman who tried to kill me. Also, I did not mention but she stole my gun and all my ammo; so now you could say she was armed and dangerous.

A couple of weeks later, I was walking down 5^th Avenue and suddenly I felt dizzy; it wasn't the kind where you get dizzy and some seconds later it just goes away. This lasted what it seemed an endless minute; I started losing vision and my speech slurred as I called for help.

I woke up in the hospital 6 hours later. The neurosurgeon told me that a major vein had ruptured and caused me the problems aforementioned, but that was not the only problem...

Remember the bullet that tore through my temporal lobe? That it did not expand? Well, the doctors were wrong. It expanded, which "caused" me the infamous lobotomy, which is cutting the nerves and obliterating the frontal parts of the brain.

Sadly enough, they told me that these problems would get worse with time, that I would lose speech and vision, and there was a grat chance that I would lose the capacity to hear.

6 month have passed and nothing has happened, so I consider myself extremely lucky.

Something else happened on those 6 months. 4 murders. 4! 3 of them the same MO as before. The other one was death by exanguination. The dude was Paul Allen, the guy that co-founded Microsoft. Yeah, THAT Paul Allen. He was hung by his legs and his carotid artery had been slit, causing a pool of blood to form underneath.

We found a shoe print, which was consistent with a stilleto, those needle thin and high shoes that women use; so this UNSUB was also a girl. I started suspecting she had changed her MO.