who had either seen or heard from the Pattersons prior to their deaths. “Feels more like three hours,” she said. “How about you, having fun yet?”
He frowned but it didn’t change the amicability in his eyes. “Just the other day I was telling my wife it’s been a while since I’ve had a real challenge. I should’ve kept my damn mouth shut. Coffee?”
Melissa laughed and leaned against the counter beside him.
He handed her a paper cup from Starbucks. “One of Cocoran’s finest did a java run. I figured you could use it. Soy mocha latte.”
“ You know me too well,” she said. “So, what’s the challenge?”
Rictor marked his page in the ledger and motioned her toward the blood-streaked wall. “Take a look at this first.”
She followed, sipping the coffee while he indicated specific areas of the scene. His pointing fingers darted from one detail to the next like long-necked birds pecking at breadcrumbs.
Various pins and labels now marked the rust-colored bloodstains smeared over yellow and white wallpaper, blotting out intricate little pictures of barns and hay bales. The labeled pins, Rictor explained, identified which holes had been made by each of the items that pierced the victim’s body and embedded in the plaster wall.
“ We found thirty-two knives out of the total amount of utensils lodged in the corpse,” he said, “but only six of those were long and sturdy enough to penetrate the body and hold it in place. Now, look at where those knives were located.” He placed himself in a stance similar to the one in which Mrs. Patterson had been found. The reconstruction wasn’t perfect; unlike the victim, his feet remained on the floor.
“ We have two blades in each arm, one through her left trapezium muscle in the neck, and the other in her right shoulder. None of those stabs would be instantly fatal, and you can see how much blood there is on the floor and wall.”
“ So, you’re saying that she was alive when it happened, that her heart was still pumping?”
“ Correct.”
“ What about the other utensils?”
“ Superficial anterior musculature damage. That many wounds would’ve killed her in time, no doubt, but the true mortal blow came from one of the cooking spoons in the eye sockets, which happened last, as indicated by the blood loss.”
“ And there were no other traces of blood throughout the house?”
“ None that we could find. We’ve used Luminal and ultraviolet light on some of the rooms, but nothing’s turned up. We’ll have to wait until nightfall to do the property, of course, but I’m not expecting to discover any new areas of interest.”
“ Then this wasn’t just set up as a display.”
“ No. I’d say this is where she died.”
Melissa stared at the blood on the wall, appalled by the brutality implied by Rictor’s findings. “Shit.”
“ We still need to wait for the M.E.’s toxicology report to see if there were any chemicals or drugs in her system,” he reminded her. “It could be that she was unconscious before the killer attacked her, but somehow I doubt that anything will turn up. This looks like the work of good old-fashioned rage.”
“ I have the same feeling,” Melissa muttered. “What about Mr. Patterson? Anything new?”
Rictor’s folded his arms in a contemplative posture.
“ What?” Melissa asked.
“ That’s the challenging bit,” he said. “Follow me.”
He led her out of the house.
Melissa had already surveyed the stage on which Mel Patterson’s final act in life had been played out, having come to its finale in the theater of the couple’s detached utility garage.
Mr. Patterson’s corpse had been found partially trapped beneath his green Ford Windstar, where he’d been crushed between the front bumper and the garage’s main door, thus causing the damage she’d observed when she arrived.
“ There’s something a bit puzzling about the man’s death,” Rictor said once they were inside the
He frowned but it didn’t change the amicability in his eyes. “Just the other day I was telling my wife it’s been a while since I’ve had a real challenge. I should’ve kept my damn mouth shut. Coffee?”
Melissa laughed and leaned against the counter beside him.
He handed her a paper cup from Starbucks. “One of Cocoran’s finest did a java run. I figured you could use it. Soy mocha latte.”
“ You know me too well,” she said. “So, what’s the challenge?”
Rictor marked his page in the ledger and motioned her toward the blood-streaked wall. “Take a look at this first.”
She followed, sipping the coffee while he indicated specific areas of the scene. His pointing fingers darted from one detail to the next like long-necked birds pecking at breadcrumbs.
Various pins and labels now marked the rust-colored bloodstains smeared over yellow and white wallpaper, blotting out intricate little pictures of barns and hay bales. The labeled pins, Rictor explained, identified which holes had been made by each of the items that pierced the victim’s body and embedded in the plaster wall.
“ We found thirty-two knives out of the total amount of utensils lodged in the corpse,” he said, “but only six of those were long and sturdy enough to penetrate the body and hold it in place. Now, look at where those knives were located.” He placed himself in a stance similar to the one in which Mrs. Patterson had been found. The reconstruction wasn’t perfect; unlike the victim, his feet remained on the floor.
“ We have two blades in each arm, one through her left trapezium muscle in the neck, and the other in her right shoulder. None of those stabs would be instantly fatal, and you can see how much blood there is on the floor and wall.”
“ So, you’re saying that she was alive when it happened, that her heart was still pumping?”
“ Correct.”
“ What about the other utensils?”
“ Superficial anterior musculature damage. That many wounds would’ve killed her in time, no doubt, but the true mortal blow came from one of the cooking spoons in the eye sockets, which happened last, as indicated by the blood loss.”
“ And there were no other traces of blood throughout the house?”
“ None that we could find. We’ve used Luminal and ultraviolet light on some of the rooms, but nothing’s turned up. We’ll have to wait until nightfall to do the property, of course, but I’m not expecting to discover any new areas of interest.”
“ Then this wasn’t just set up as a display.”
“ No. I’d say this is where she died.”
Melissa stared at the blood on the wall, appalled by the brutality implied by Rictor’s findings. “Shit.”
“ We still need to wait for the M.E.’s toxicology report to see if there were any chemicals or drugs in her system,” he reminded her. “It could be that she was unconscious before the killer attacked her, but somehow I doubt that anything will turn up. This looks like the work of good old-fashioned rage.”
“ I have the same feeling,” Melissa muttered. “What about Mr. Patterson? Anything new?”
Rictor’s folded his arms in a contemplative posture.
“ What?” Melissa asked.
“ That’s the challenging bit,” he said. “Follow me.”
He led her out of the house.
Melissa had already surveyed the stage on which Mel Patterson’s final act in life had been played out, having come to its finale in the theater of the couple’s detached utility garage.
Mr. Patterson’s corpse had been found partially trapped beneath his green Ford Windstar, where he’d been crushed between the front bumper and the garage’s main door, thus causing the damage she’d observed when she arrived.
“ There’s something a bit puzzling about the man’s death,” Rictor said once they were inside the
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