Read Online Halfway to Half Way by Suzann Ledbetter - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Suzann Ledbetter
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box."
David pondered a moment. Briefings with the chief of detectives were partly informative, partly figure-it-out-yourself. The methodology was like working a puzzle behind your back: ignore the big picture and focus on the pieces.
"Then the utility room door must have been standing open when Eustace and Vaughn arrived," he said. "Otherwise their prints would be on the doorknob."
"Not wide open," Marlin said. "Eustace pushed it the rest of the way with his baton."
"But Bev's prints aren't on it, or any of the other stuff. Not even her own jewelry box."
Marlin's eyebrow dipped. "Careful son of a bitch, our burglar. I didn't need Duckworth to speculate that the air was turned down to delay decomp, or make it a helluva lot harder to determine time of death."
Jimmy Wayne cast a lankier and slightly shorter shadow than David. "What're you doing here, boss? I thought you went 10-7 a couple of hours ago."
"I didn't get any farther than Ruby's." A full-size diesel SUV entered David's peripheral vision. Its gold shield decals on the doors and hood warranted a double take. "Thanks, McBride, for leading Elvis to the building."
Marlin said, "Maybe he's gone over to the dark side."
Jimmy Wayne started toward the SUV, pointing his finger at Jessup Knox, rocking and rubbernecking in the driver's seat. The chief deputy jerked his thumb sideward in the universal "Get outta here, now " gesture.
Marlin made throat noises. "Screw hand signals. How about I just shoot him?"
"It crossed my mind more than once after Knox busted in on my breakfast," David said. "How about the three of us ignore him and get this scene processed."
To either rule out or confirm the possibility that Bev Beauford brought her killer home with her, Marlin told Jimmy Wayne to glove up and assist David with a preliminary examination of her vehicle.
Starting for the front door, the detective glared at Knox, now making a beeline for Chase Wingate. Marlin yelled, "Eustaceif that jackass sticks his nose past the tape, shoot him. "
The garage's concrete floor was littered with windblown debris, just as the deputy had mentioned. Assorted tools, brooms, mops and the like hung beside the door to the utility room. A lawn mower was parked in the far corner; plastic storage tubs and paint cans were stowed on plywood shelves nailed to recycled two-by-fours. David's half of his college dorm room had more junk in it than this.
Along the foundation, phantom outlines extending up the wafer-board walls alluded to cardboard cartons and claptrap stored for many a year. As far as he could tell, the few overlapped footprints on the floor weren't fresh.
Jimmy Wayne returned from the kitchen with Bev's key ring and a solemn look on his face. He issued a curt heads-up to the deputies outside, then pressed a wall-mounted button to lower the garage door. "Mother Andrik says, don't get in the car, and don't fuck up any prints when you're checking it out."
A bare bulb in the ceiling fixture exuded a meager forty watts of illumination. It was sufficient to avoid barking a shin on a shelf standard and note the absence of dusty black whorls on the vehicle's pearl-white doors and trunk.
"Marlin doesn't want it printed first?" David asked.
"You want to ask him again, be my guest." Contempt suffused Jimmy Wayne's voice and body language as he moved to the sedan's passenger side. You'd have to know him well to understand that the target of it had strangled a petite, fifty-one-year-old widow.
"Smells like a smoker in a pine grove in here." Jimmy Wayne shined a Mag-Lite on the carpeted floorboard. "Clean, though."
"Deluxe car-wash package," David said. "And wipe-down crews usually wear gloves." If the perpetrator had occupied Bev's vehicle, its recently detailed interior was a fingerprint tech's dream.
The garage door's remote control
David pondered a moment. Briefings with the chief of detectives were partly informative, partly figure-it-out-yourself. The methodology was like working a puzzle behind your back: ignore the big picture and focus on the pieces.
"Then the utility room door must have been standing open when Eustace and Vaughn arrived," he said. "Otherwise their prints would be on the doorknob."
"Not wide open," Marlin said. "Eustace pushed it the rest of the way with his baton."
"But Bev's prints aren't on it, or any of the other stuff. Not even her own jewelry box."
Marlin's eyebrow dipped. "Careful son of a bitch, our burglar. I didn't need Duckworth to speculate that the air was turned down to delay decomp, or make it a helluva lot harder to determine time of death."
Jimmy Wayne cast a lankier and slightly shorter shadow than David. "What're you doing here, boss? I thought you went 10-7 a couple of hours ago."
"I didn't get any farther than Ruby's." A full-size diesel SUV entered David's peripheral vision. Its gold shield decals on the doors and hood warranted a double take. "Thanks, McBride, for leading Elvis to the building."
Marlin said, "Maybe he's gone over to the dark side."
Jimmy Wayne started toward the SUV, pointing his finger at Jessup Knox, rocking and rubbernecking in the driver's seat. The chief deputy jerked his thumb sideward in the universal "Get outta here, now " gesture.
Marlin made throat noises. "Screw hand signals. How about I just shoot him?"
"It crossed my mind more than once after Knox busted in on my breakfast," David said. "How about the three of us ignore him and get this scene processed."
To either rule out or confirm the possibility that Bev Beauford brought her killer home with her, Marlin told Jimmy Wayne to glove up and assist David with a preliminary examination of her vehicle.
Starting for the front door, the detective glared at Knox, now making a beeline for Chase Wingate. Marlin yelled, "Eustaceif that jackass sticks his nose past the tape, shoot him. "
The garage's concrete floor was littered with windblown debris, just as the deputy had mentioned. Assorted tools, brooms, mops and the like hung beside the door to the utility room. A lawn mower was parked in the far corner; plastic storage tubs and paint cans were stowed on plywood shelves nailed to recycled two-by-fours. David's half of his college dorm room had more junk in it than this.
Along the foundation, phantom outlines extending up the wafer-board walls alluded to cardboard cartons and claptrap stored for many a year. As far as he could tell, the few overlapped footprints on the floor weren't fresh.
Jimmy Wayne returned from the kitchen with Bev's key ring and a solemn look on his face. He issued a curt heads-up to the deputies outside, then pressed a wall-mounted button to lower the garage door. "Mother Andrik says, don't get in the car, and don't fuck up any prints when you're checking it out."
A bare bulb in the ceiling fixture exuded a meager forty watts of illumination. It was sufficient to avoid barking a shin on a shelf standard and note the absence of dusty black whorls on the vehicle's pearl-white doors and trunk.
"Marlin doesn't want it printed first?" David asked.
"You want to ask him again, be my guest." Contempt suffused Jimmy Wayne's voice and body language as he moved to the sedan's passenger side. You'd have to know him well to understand that the target of it had strangled a petite, fifty-one-year-old widow.
"Smells like a smoker in a pine grove in here." Jimmy Wayne shined a Mag-Lite on the carpeted floorboard. "Clean, though."
"Deluxe car-wash package," David said. "And wipe-down crews usually wear gloves." If the perpetrator had occupied Bev's vehicle, its recently detailed interior was a fingerprint tech's dream.
The garage door's remote control
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