Lives in Murderville

I have been a bit reluctant to write this story as I've been holding out hope that I would have more conclusive evidence with which to present you, but as of yet I have not been told the actual "accident" that occurred in my apartment complex on Saturday so I will recount the story as best I can with no solid conclusions to draw other than from my own experience...Whew, run-on sentence much?

Saturday I left for work around 8:45 and all was clear and normal on the horizon (aka, my parking lot). When I arrived back at the apartment complex at 2:00, the world had changed. Driving up to my building I was suddenly confronted with the sight of at least 6 sheriffs' cars and the fact that my entire parking lot and building were taped off with the yellow "POLICE LINE, DO NOT CROSS" tape....ummmm what?! I thought to myself....Ok, well....what do I do? What is going on?! What could possibly have happened?!? Ok, deep breath. I wanted to go into my apartment, as my plan for the rest of the day was to work on my admittance essays (see previous blog) and study for my exam...however, that was no longer seeming like an option as the DO NOT CROSS line glared suspiciously at me, barracading my little apartment behind it. I looked around for someone to talk to, but although there was an abundance of police vehicles there were no policmen (police people?) in sight. I went up to the apartment office and asked the lady who works there. She told me there had been an "accident" (and yes, she USED THE AIR QUOTES). WHAT?!?!?!? She told me they had been there since morning and weren't letting anyone through. So, I opted to go to the mall...I needed a haircut anyway.

While at the mall I got a haircut from a funny little woman (from Mexico) named Lupita. Now, I made the mistake of mentioning to Lupita that I spoke some Spanish and that was the end of our English conversation. She grilled me about Venezuela, my job, and MOST IMPORTANTLY my boyfriend. Ok, I realize most of you at this point are going...Chels, honey, you don't have one. I know!! But did I mention that all of this occurred on Valentine's day? Lupita was strongly reluctant to believe that I did not, in fact, leave a very forloen boyfriend behind in Venezuela and she continued to chat with me as though I HAD...even though...I hadn't. Who knows. Anyway, this converation led to a general conversation about Latino men...including stories about her husband. Ok, not so bad, fairly interesting, as far as hair stylist conversations go....UNTIL, she began comparing Latino men and American men's LOVEMAKING styles. She didn't seem to notice the look of horror on my face or the fact that I completely stopped responding to her comments and she prattled on for a solid 10 minutes about how Latino men are better in bed. awkward! Fortunately, I don't think anyone around us understood a word of it, unless there were other hidden Spanish speakers, and heck, they probably thought it was entertaining.

Moving on...I wandered the mall for a while, nervous to head back to my home, for fear of what I'd find. By this time of course, all sorts of thoughts had crossed my mind. I won't even delve into a few of them...I finally mustered my meager courage and headed home, timidly parking and walking up to the blaringly yellow line (still there, nothing seemed to have changed, except that now there were two cops in bullet-proof vests and a girl in the back of one of the sheriff's cars), and waved one of the cops over. He came over and told me in no uncertain terms that "looky-lous" were not wanted and I needed to leave. I explained my situation and that I lived above the apartment they were investigating. After checking my ID and and verifying that I do, in fact, reside there he let me go up, with the promise that I would come back in a minute to give a statement. They made me answer questions like "Where were you last night between this time and this time?" "Did you hear any yelling or loud noises" "Where there any people outside this apartment when you got home?" etc....

The cops stayed there the entire rest of the day and into the evening, when they put up some sort of floodlights to shine down into the apartment. At one point I peeked out my window, although I was terrified of being considered a "looky-lou"!! A girl was being put into the cop car by her head (you know what I mean, how cops do). They finally left sometime around 11 at night.

What conclusion can we come to folks? Please you tell me, because the only ones I can think of are not pretty.

Could be a drug bust....but would they be there all day? And why ask me questions about yelling and noises the night before?

Could have been some domestic violence...but wouldn't they just put the guy in the cop car and drive him away?

Could have been a stake-out...oh wait, no. too obvious.

Could have been a rape....
Could have been a murder....

Could have been an "accident"....

dun...dun....dun.....