impressed as he glared at Mike. “I smoke guys like you for lunch.”
Mike grinned. That was clever. He liked Scotty. Fucking pothead.
“What do we have?” Mike asked.
“71 year old female,” Scotty replied. “Strangled to death.”
“How long has she been dead?” Mike asked as he moved closer to inspect her neck.
“Judging from the rigor mortis, I would estimate her time of death at approximately 7:00 pm last night.”
“What did the killer strangle her with?”
“His hands. He was wearing latex gloves.”
“How do you know?”
“There are traces of latex residue on her neck where his hands crushed her larynx.”
Mike grimaced and held his breath as he leaned down to inspect the residue. He squinted in the darkness and could see tiny specks of white powder on the bruised choke mark. He stepped back and stared at the old lady’scorpse. Her hands were in her lap holding a strand of rosary beads as if she hadn’t even put up a fight. It was like she sat there and let the killer strangle her.
“Are there any biologicals under her fingernails?”
“Negative. There are no signs of a struggle.”
Mike rubbed the stubble on his thick jaw. Why would anyone want to kill a little old lady?
The window shades to the street were closed and the olive-colored walls cast an ominous shadow over the brown carpeted room. Hanging on the walls were framed prints depicting the birth of Jesus. Mike peered at them with intrigue. One was of Mary and Joseph looking at baby Jesus in the manger. Another was of Jesus surrounded by Mary and Joseph as well as the three wise men, all looking at Jesus in wonderment. One was of baby Jesus with an illuminating face in the manger. All of them were of the nativity scene. Why did she decorate her living room with paintings of the birth of Jesus? There were small wooden crosses nailed on the wall between the paintings
“Have you found any hairs or fibers?” Mike asked.
“Nothing yet,” Scotty replied. “But I will. I always do.”
Mike turned and shuffled out of the living room, lost in contemplation. Who would want to strangle a religious old lady? What was the killer’s motive? The heels of Mike’s boots echoed vacantly on the parquet floor of the foyer. Did the victim know the killer? Did they sit and talk before he wrapped his hands around her neck and choked her to death? Why didn’t she put up a fight?
The first thing that caught his eyes in the dining room was a framed print of DaVinci’s Last Supper over a buffet table. What the fuck? The dining room table and chairs and the buffet were all simply designed and made of wood. There were no elegant carvings or elaborate designs. Mike inspected the window locks and the glass French doors for any sign of forced entry. They were all locked.
He pushed his way through the swinging door into the kitchen. It was cold and empty. The wood cabinets and drawers were neatly painted white with polished brass handles and knobs. The off-white tile counter and metallic dual sink were wiped spotless. The room smelled of disinfectant cleanser. The refrigerator droned in the background. Mike checked the windows and side door that led to the driveway. Neither was tampered with. Mike wasstarting to get the distinct feeling that the victim knew the killer and let him into the house. Everything was too neat and orderly for this to be a break-in or an attempted robbery.
On the cream-colored wall of the stairway were four small framed paintings of Jesus that ascended the stairs in sequence. The first was of Judas betraying Jesus with a kiss. The next was Jesus being arrested by the Jewish authorities. The next one was the trial of Jesus by Pontius Pilate, then finally Jesus carrying the cross over his shoulder wearing a crown of thorns. This lady really enjoyed her biblical art. Come to think of it, Mike hadn’t seen any photos of the victim or her family and friends; only artwork from the New Testament. What a fucking spooky place to
Mike grinned. That was clever. He liked Scotty. Fucking pothead.
“What do we have?” Mike asked.
“71 year old female,” Scotty replied. “Strangled to death.”
“How long has she been dead?” Mike asked as he moved closer to inspect her neck.
“Judging from the rigor mortis, I would estimate her time of death at approximately 7:00 pm last night.”
“What did the killer strangle her with?”
“His hands. He was wearing latex gloves.”
“How do you know?”
“There are traces of latex residue on her neck where his hands crushed her larynx.”
Mike grimaced and held his breath as he leaned down to inspect the residue. He squinted in the darkness and could see tiny specks of white powder on the bruised choke mark. He stepped back and stared at the old lady’scorpse. Her hands were in her lap holding a strand of rosary beads as if she hadn’t even put up a fight. It was like she sat there and let the killer strangle her.
“Are there any biologicals under her fingernails?”
“Negative. There are no signs of a struggle.”
Mike rubbed the stubble on his thick jaw. Why would anyone want to kill a little old lady?
The window shades to the street were closed and the olive-colored walls cast an ominous shadow over the brown carpeted room. Hanging on the walls were framed prints depicting the birth of Jesus. Mike peered at them with intrigue. One was of Mary and Joseph looking at baby Jesus in the manger. Another was of Jesus surrounded by Mary and Joseph as well as the three wise men, all looking at Jesus in wonderment. One was of baby Jesus with an illuminating face in the manger. All of them were of the nativity scene. Why did she decorate her living room with paintings of the birth of Jesus? There were small wooden crosses nailed on the wall between the paintings
“Have you found any hairs or fibers?” Mike asked.
“Nothing yet,” Scotty replied. “But I will. I always do.”
Mike turned and shuffled out of the living room, lost in contemplation. Who would want to strangle a religious old lady? What was the killer’s motive? The heels of Mike’s boots echoed vacantly on the parquet floor of the foyer. Did the victim know the killer? Did they sit and talk before he wrapped his hands around her neck and choked her to death? Why didn’t she put up a fight?
The first thing that caught his eyes in the dining room was a framed print of DaVinci’s Last Supper over a buffet table. What the fuck? The dining room table and chairs and the buffet were all simply designed and made of wood. There were no elegant carvings or elaborate designs. Mike inspected the window locks and the glass French doors for any sign of forced entry. They were all locked.
He pushed his way through the swinging door into the kitchen. It was cold and empty. The wood cabinets and drawers were neatly painted white with polished brass handles and knobs. The off-white tile counter and metallic dual sink were wiped spotless. The room smelled of disinfectant cleanser. The refrigerator droned in the background. Mike checked the windows and side door that led to the driveway. Neither was tampered with. Mike wasstarting to get the distinct feeling that the victim knew the killer and let him into the house. Everything was too neat and orderly for this to be a break-in or an attempted robbery.
On the cream-colored wall of the stairway were four small framed paintings of Jesus that ascended the stairs in sequence. The first was of Judas betraying Jesus with a kiss. The next was Jesus being arrested by the Jewish authorities. The next one was the trial of Jesus by Pontius Pilate, then finally Jesus carrying the cross over his shoulder wearing a crown of thorns. This lady really enjoyed her biblical art. Come to think of it, Mike hadn’t seen any photos of the victim or her family and friends; only artwork from the New Testament. What a fucking spooky place to
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