Read Online Dance of Death by Dale Hudson - Free Book Online Page B

Detective Joyce has her at the station now interviewing her.”
    â€œWhat is it she said she saw?” Hendrick wanted to know.
    King held up his notepad in the light shining from the trucks still parked on the beach. “She told us someone wearing a mask and dressed in black came up from behind them on the beach, robbed them and then shot her husband.”
    King lowered his pad and stepped toward Hendrick. He led him a few feet away, cupped a hand around his mouth as a shield, then said in a low voice, “We got the call about ten minutes ago that he died. Detective Altman is still at the hospital talking with the doctors and emergency responders, hoping they’ll be able to shed some light on the situation.”
    Captain Hendrick and Sergeant King walked over to the cordoned area of the beach, which was being spotlighted by the beach patrol trucks. Careful to stay outside of the immediate crime scene area so as not to contaminate the evidence, they observed from a distance the pool of crimson blood that stained the beach’s white sand.
    â€œThe wife said the robber made her and her husband lie on their back with their feet together before asking for their money and jewelry,” King continued. “And then, for no apparent reason, he shot her husband.” He paused. “Said he shot him in the head. Shot him twice.”
    Hendrick thought about what he had just heard. A few of the details King had given him were a little odd, but he had learned over the years to reserve his comments until all the facts of the story were in. Victims of serious crimes often experience confusion or momentary memory lapse due to the shock and trauma of the moment. Until they got the complete story from the victim’s wife, he would take a wait-and-see posture.
    â€œThe robber shot him here.” King pointed as they walked around the back side of the yellow-taped area, which was about the same square footage as the standard boxing ring. They moved in for a closer look. The evidence collection team was busy sifting through the sand, searching for any morsel of a clue to the crime. An additional officer, Dean Mayer, who was particularly gifted with a metal detector, had been called in to help examine the area.
    King motioned toward the officers, then reported what had already been found.
    â€œThey’ve located several spent shells, so we know the robber shot the guy here. We believe he then took off at a northward angle toward the beach access. The dogs were able to pick up his scent to the beach access, but then they lost the trail there. We figured that is where the gunman probably got into his parked car and drove off.”
    â€œWhat have you got by way of footprints?” Hendrick asked.
    â€œWell, there were so many people in and out of this area to begin with, especially when the paramedics came down here to treat the body,” King said, “I am afraid we don’t have anything solid in that department.”
    King knelt down and grabbed a handful of sand. He shook his head as if the fault lay with the grainy material he now had squeezed between his palm and fingers. “Besides, you know how this soft sand is. It never gives a good print.” He opened his hand and let if fall in one clump to the ground, then brushed his hand off against his pants pocket.
    â€œHow about the patrol officer, what does he know?”
    King nodded toward the officer standing by his truck. “Officer Brown, who found the couple, is over there with his supervisor, reviewing his report.”
    Hendrick looked over at the young, clean-shaven and white-walled officer.
    â€œBrown did say he noticed one thing in particular about the victim’s wife that was unusual,” King continued. “She had told him the robber made her and her husband lie on their backs, with their feet together before he robbed them. He said when she first approached him on the beach, to say that her husband had been