Read Online Boston Cream Killer: Book 8 in The INNcredibly Sweet Series by Summer Prescott - Free Book Online

asked, surprised, peering down at the woman whose mouth had been duct-taped shut.
    “Sort of. I know her first name, it’s Darla,” the detective frowned.
    The forensics tech had approached, and was standing behind him going through the handbag that he’d found in the dumpster.
    “No, her name is Hannah,” he said, holding up an open wallet with a New York driver’s license displayed. “Hannah Folsom. We also found this,” he continued, holding up a large evidence bag which contained a curly, white-haired wig and a gaudy floral housecoat.
    Tim, done with all of the original position photos, handed the camera to Fiona, and focused his attention on finding clues as to what had happened. Turning the body to its other side, the medical examiner found the mortal wound. He frowned and pursed his lips, motioning to Fiona to take another photo.
    “This was done by someone who knows about DNA and crime scenes,” he concluded, his eyes roving over the woman’s face.
    “What makes you say that?” Chas asked, peering at Hannah more closely.
    “See the bruising around the nostrils and jaw?” he pointed with a pen at the bruising that looked like it continued underneath the duct tape. “That’s an indication that she was suffocated until she passed out, but clearly, as is evidenced by all of this blood, suffocation wasn’t what killed her.”
    The pasty man, who had been holding Hannah’s head up in order to see more clearly, gently set it down, stood up, and used the back of his wrist to push his glasses up his nose. He moved around until he stood next to the top of her head, and squatted down, visualizing.
    “The angle of the tiny cut that severed her artery slants upward, which means that whoever did this, moved around behind her to make the cut, but knew exactly where and how deep to make it, something that takes both knowledge and skill. The splatter pattern on her clothing indicates the arc and flow, and tells us that the killer turned her body away, so that none of the blood would touch them. They knew enough to keep evidence away from their body,” Tim explained, blinking like an owl.
    “Male or female perp?” Chas asked.
    “Based on the size and shape of the facial bruises, either male or a female with unusually large hands,” the medical examiner replied.
    The uniformed officer looked at Chas uneasily. “Detective Beckett, what was the nature of your association with the victim?” he asked, reluctantly.
    Chas sighed. “She was a stranger, with whom I had a very public argument,” he admitted, shaking his head.
    “I think we need to call Detective Reubens in. No offense,” the cop said, flicking the switch on his shoulder radio.
    “None taken,” Chas grimaced. “Do what you gotta do.”
     

CHAPTER FOURTEEN
    Missy felt awful after Chas left. He was a fiercely loyal husband and a man of integrity, and she’d jumped to the most insulting conclusion possible. She’d fallen asleep trying to think of ways to make it up to him, and her head was fuzzy when her phone buzzed on the nightstand a few hours later. Seeing Chas’s name on the screen she picked it up.
    “Sugar, I’m so sorry that I…” she began.
    “Don’t worry about it,” he interrupted her, sounding oddly terse. “I’m coming to the house in a few minutes and I’m bringing Jim Reubens with me to talk to you, so I need you to make sure that you’re dressed, and please put on a pot of coffee for us. It’s been a long night.”
    Missy looked at the clock on her nightstand, saw that it was nearly four in the morning, and frowned, confused.
    “Are you okay? Is there something wrong?” she asked, alarmed.
    “Don’t worry, sweetie,” his tone softened. “We’ll talk about it when we get there. I’ll see you soon.”
    And with that, he hung up before she even had a chance to respond. Missy sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, blinking sleepily and trying to wrap her head around what might be the cause of Jim Reubens coming