Murder My Love Read Free Page A

popping like a strobe light. Satisfied that he was doing a thorough job, she called Stanton and Devlin to come forward to continue their search of the house. They ascended the stairs, inspected every room, opened every closet, and checked every cabinet. There seemed to be nothing out of place and nothing to suggest a motive for the carnage. At last they came out on to the porch and the Chief motioned for the waiting policemen to come forward. She began to bark orders. The intensity of her voice somehow calmed her subordinates. They were acclimated to this side of the Chief. She demanded to know the identities of the victims, the name of the homeowner, and to inquire if any strangers had been seen in the neighborhood. She directed other policemen to find out where the victims worked. Did any of the neighbors know the victims? And especially, who made the call to headquarters? Like a pack of hounds, the policemen dispersed to retrieve the answers. They were grateful for the orders, anything to get away from the scene of the crime. There was nothing left for the Chief to do but wait for the CSI.
    Dr. Otto Kruger, the Medical Examiner, arrived in the late afternoon, followed soon after by a truncated CSI team. The Chief provided them with a thorough briefing. They first toured the perimeter of the house, then spent several hours inspecting the crime scene inside the house, focusing their attention in the kitchen and the bodies of the victims, scribbling copious notes, taking samples of blood, and dusting for fingerprints. Having performed their sampling, the police photographer was able to enter the kitchen and take pictures at angles that were previously unavailable. Kruger sensed Wilson’s exhaustion as she had been on the scene for more than six hours. He told her that it wasn’t necessary for her to remain any longer. There was nothing more she could do or contribute to the investigation by the CSI. The Chief assigned two policemen to guard the house and turned the crime scene over to Kruger and the CSI team. She thanked him and departed.
    On the ride home she had to collect herself and flush away the horrible images that were dancing in her mind. She took a closer look at West Warwick, a place where her career had recently taken her, a community she had eagerly adopted. Through an objective lens, she saw that Main Street was lined by an endless series of dull two story block buildings constructed during the nineteenth century when factories and light industry were the region’s principal employers. It was a sleepy town bordering the Connecticut River. A maze of two lane country roads far removed from any interstate highway led to the town center. The town was tired. Some of the buildings had undergone restoration, but the final product remained an uninspiring canyon of multicolored brick. The only concessions to modernity were the neon signs hung randomly along the main thoroughfare. Warwick College and Pine County Community Hospital were the principal sources of employment. The ball-bearing factory situated on the bank of the river at the edge of town was the last vestige of an industrial town. Once, the Connecticut River had blessed the region with a flourishing economy. Foundries and factories bordering the river had supported a thriving whaling industry. Sea going vessels could navigate the river to the outskirts of Hartford. Pratt and Whitney, the aerospace giant, had been the region’s heart and soul. Across the river in East Hampton several factories that forged brass bells had anchored its economy. Its output was so grand and its quality so revered that the town was christened ‘Bell Town, USA.’ Its doors were shuttered after World War ll due to foreign competition. Along the river in virtually every hamlet, small and large farms once thrived by raising shade tobacco. Endless rows of staked plants covered in coarse muslin nourished by the iron rich sediment of the river could be seen along every country road.