Murder My Love Read Free

have been shot in the chest at close range. There was a trail of blood from his sneakers to the kitchen table that abutted the far wall. They surmised that he had been shot at the table and as he tried either to escape or pursue his assailant, he left a trail of blood. With a shot to the chest, he had probably collapsed, fell against the swing door, and his body wedged it open. They did not touch or move the body. The rents in his shirt and the large pool of blood surrounding the corpse suggested that he might also have been stabbed. They did not at first enter the kitchen. Rather, they would wait for the CSI team and the Medical Examiner to arrive. Meanwhile, the photographer took several pictures through the doorway. In the rear of the kitchen adjacent to the sink they saw that a woman was lying on the floor face up. An empty crystal cookie jar lay next to her head. A bloody towel lay near the body. The scene was macabre, hideous beyond imagination. She was wearing a bathrobe that was untied, exposing an otherwise naked body. The victim had been stabbed numerous times in her face, neck, and torso. Their eyes were drawn to the multiple stab wounds surrounding her escutcheon and her inner thighs. Blood was splattered everywhere; on the floor, on the walls, on the kitchen cabinets, and on the counter-top. It looked as if someone had dipped a paintbrush in a bucket of blood and flicked it all over the kitchen. At first glance, it appeared that she also had been shot at least twice. They clearly saw one entry hole in her right chest just above her breast and one in her abdomen below her navel. The odor of clotting blood was nauseating. Chief Wilson instructed one of her officers to notify the Medical Examiner and the Crime Scene Investigators of the urgency of her request. Even if they were all located on their day off and immediately dispatched, it would be hours before they could arrive. It was imperative they not disturb the victims until they were first examined professionally. The entourage of police retreated from the house and assembled once again on the porch. None had ever witnessed anything remotely resembling such grotesque savagery. Of one thing they could be certain. This crime was personal. Either that or there was some deranged psychopath on the loose in West Warwick. Stanton was heard to say, “The guy who did this is one sick son of a bitch.” The silence that followed was deafening.
    Chief Wilson waved to Huff to come forward. As Huff ascended the steps Wilson grabbed him close and whispered in his ear, “Good job. I would have lost it if I wasn’t warned.”
    Huff stepped back, shook Wilson’s hand and said, “Thank you, ma’am.” He turned and slowly walked to his patrol car.
    The two male officers asked to be excused. The stench of blood and the odor of death throe defecation had already contaminated their senses. They walked with a quick step to the far end of the street. Chief Wilson returned to the kitchen with Officer Kurtz. The police photographer told her that he would take several well-placed steps into the kitchen where he would photograph everything he saw from the perimeter of his two feet. He said he would take more photographs later, after the Crime Scene Investigators had performed their assessment and the medical examiner had conducted his analysis. The photographer, who was experienced with murder scenes, methodically went about his business with no sign of emotion. He recorded the crime scene from every angle taking extraordinary care not to contaminate the evidence.
    While the photographer was snapping pictures Chief Wilson returned to the open front door. She sucked in deep breaths and exhaled audibly, trying desperately not to lose composure. Kurtz remained remarkably impassive as if she had seen savagery similar to this on many occasions. When Wilson had sufficiently cleared her head, she returned to the kitchen to observe the police photographer going about his business, the flash