involvement in a group that took therapy dogs to hospitals before I changed the subject, asking about her health.
“I have some days when I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck, but I’m holding my own. Maybe the worst part of this is that I have trouble tasting most food, even food that used to be my favorite just doesn’t taste right. I guess it comes with the territory.”
I checked the time on my phone and realized we were running late to meet Alex. I stood up. “Let’s get together for a drink when you’re free. You can give me your take on the autopsy report and I’ll fill you in on the latest regarding the search for my bio-dad.”
***
Leo and I were fifteen minutes late for our meeting with Alex at R&I, something that my tubby partner made an issue of when we met him at the public counter.
“It’s one thing to say we’re all going to work together on these cases, it’s another to be late for meetings. Where the hell were you?”
“Sorry,” I said, trying to catch my breath from dashing into the building with Bernie and Leo. “We stopped by the coroner’s office.”
“What the hell for?”
“It was my idea,” Leo said. “I had a thought based on the blood spray and angle of Hodge’s body that her assailant might be left handed. The coroner said he couldn’t confirm that.”
Alex made a huffing sound and shook his head. “And your trip to Bernstein Studios?”
We filled him in on having Selfie and Molly work with the studio’s employees to try and identify the subjects in the photos standing near Reeder.
Alex said, “It sounds like you wasted most of the day.” He then walked away, telling a clerk at the counter that we wanted to speak with the on-duty supervisor.
I whispered to Leo, “I wonder if Alex and Earl Mumford might be brothers.”
He chortled, something that caused Alex to turn and give us a hard stare.
A few minutes later, we met with Sylvia Mason, the records supervisor, in a small conference room. Bernie settled at my feet as we told her why we were there.
“What happened is a complete mystery to me,” Mason said. The clerk looked like she was in her forties. She was overweight with stringy brown hair and dull brown eyes. “We follow a very strict protocol regarding our evidence and the chain of custody.” She took a moment, explaining how anyone authorized to review evidence was required to sign in and out, and that the property was in a secure area with security cameras.
“I’m assuming you reviewed the security video regarding anything suspicious,” Alex said.
Mason nodded. “There was nothing out of the ordinary.”
“How far back does the video feed go?” I asked.
“The system recycles every ninety days.”
“So, it’s possible the evidence was tampered with before that time?”
She shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Can you show us the location of the evidence?” Alex asked.
“Of course.”
We followed the records supervisor through a maze of file rooms lined with shelving that went to the ceilings. We stopped in one of the rooms where she pointed at some boxes on an upper shelf. “That’s the Reeder evidence…” She turned to us. “…or what’s left of it.” She shook her head and didn’t go on.
I looked at Leo. “When cold case gets a case assigned, is the evidence reviewed?”
“Depends. If we think there’s a possibility of DNA evidence that hasn’t been looked at, we review the file and make a decision from there. In Reeder’s case, the knife was previously checked by SID and nothing, other than Reeder’s DNA, was found. Since there was nothing else in the file that we deemed worth looking at, the evidence remained right here.”
Since there was no additional DNA evidence on the knife or at the crime scene, it meant whoever killed Bruce Reeder had probably worn gloves. That fact made me think the crime could have been premeditated.
Alex turned back to Mason. “What about internal security? Who in your department has access
“I have some days when I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck, but I’m holding my own. Maybe the worst part of this is that I have trouble tasting most food, even food that used to be my favorite just doesn’t taste right. I guess it comes with the territory.”
I checked the time on my phone and realized we were running late to meet Alex. I stood up. “Let’s get together for a drink when you’re free. You can give me your take on the autopsy report and I’ll fill you in on the latest regarding the search for my bio-dad.”
***
Leo and I were fifteen minutes late for our meeting with Alex at R&I, something that my tubby partner made an issue of when we met him at the public counter.
“It’s one thing to say we’re all going to work together on these cases, it’s another to be late for meetings. Where the hell were you?”
“Sorry,” I said, trying to catch my breath from dashing into the building with Bernie and Leo. “We stopped by the coroner’s office.”
“What the hell for?”
“It was my idea,” Leo said. “I had a thought based on the blood spray and angle of Hodge’s body that her assailant might be left handed. The coroner said he couldn’t confirm that.”
Alex made a huffing sound and shook his head. “And your trip to Bernstein Studios?”
We filled him in on having Selfie and Molly work with the studio’s employees to try and identify the subjects in the photos standing near Reeder.
Alex said, “It sounds like you wasted most of the day.” He then walked away, telling a clerk at the counter that we wanted to speak with the on-duty supervisor.
I whispered to Leo, “I wonder if Alex and Earl Mumford might be brothers.”
He chortled, something that caused Alex to turn and give us a hard stare.
A few minutes later, we met with Sylvia Mason, the records supervisor, in a small conference room. Bernie settled at my feet as we told her why we were there.
“What happened is a complete mystery to me,” Mason said. The clerk looked like she was in her forties. She was overweight with stringy brown hair and dull brown eyes. “We follow a very strict protocol regarding our evidence and the chain of custody.” She took a moment, explaining how anyone authorized to review evidence was required to sign in and out, and that the property was in a secure area with security cameras.
“I’m assuming you reviewed the security video regarding anything suspicious,” Alex said.
Mason nodded. “There was nothing out of the ordinary.”
“How far back does the video feed go?” I asked.
“The system recycles every ninety days.”
“So, it’s possible the evidence was tampered with before that time?”
She shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Can you show us the location of the evidence?” Alex asked.
“Of course.”
We followed the records supervisor through a maze of file rooms lined with shelving that went to the ceilings. We stopped in one of the rooms where she pointed at some boxes on an upper shelf. “That’s the Reeder evidence…” She turned to us. “…or what’s left of it.” She shook her head and didn’t go on.
I looked at Leo. “When cold case gets a case assigned, is the evidence reviewed?”
“Depends. If we think there’s a possibility of DNA evidence that hasn’t been looked at, we review the file and make a decision from there. In Reeder’s case, the knife was previously checked by SID and nothing, other than Reeder’s DNA, was found. Since there was nothing else in the file that we deemed worth looking at, the evidence remained right here.”
Since there was no additional DNA evidence on the knife or at the crime scene, it meant whoever killed Bruce Reeder had probably worn gloves. That fact made me think the crime could have been premeditated.
Alex turned back to Mason. “What about internal security? Who in your department has access
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