Read Online Murder in the Courthouse by Nancy Grace - Free Book Online

well.
    â€œMight as well do the whole area around the steering wheel and the window too, just to be safe, don’t you think, Hailey?” Fincher weighed in.
    â€œYep.” Billings spoke before she did. He called out the orders to the crime-scene techs over his shoulder. They immediately set their black suitcases—looking for the world like big makeup kits—down on the garage floor, kneeled down, and began unloading the tools of the trade.
    Out came the dark powder that would soon be strewn everywhere, made of pure, nearly black ground graphite. Then, the Zephyr brushes, resembling a very delicate shaving brush, would apply the latent powder. Then finally, the precut, one-inch fingerprint lifting tape.
    The trick was to dip the Zephyr brush into the graphite, tap its handle gently on the beaker to get rid of excess powder, and lightly brush the powder all over the area in question: in this case, Alton Turner’s Corolla, inside and out, the garage door itself, and its remote opener. Then a magnifying glass would be used to determine if there were, in fact, any prints left behind.
    Hailey stood watching. She’d always been fascinated with prints and loved producing them to juries. The medical examiner’sdetectives had also arrived and were busily measuring distances from here to there, the car tire to the body, the body to the kitchen door, the blood on the tire from Alton’s bloody, upper torso, and so on.
    â€œHey, guys. Want to take a look inside with me?”
    Billings was heading through the door leading into Alton’s kitchen.
    â€œSure!” They said it at practically the same time.
    The three walked carefully into Alton’s kitchen, scoping the room to take in every single detail. Finch whipped out a writing pen from his pocket and used it to open the fridge.
    â€œCheck this out. Every single thing except the milk is in Tupperware and labeled.”
    Staring into the highly organized fridge, she checked out the contents. Lettuce in a crisper, butter in its specifically designed niche in the fridge door alongside eggs also in their designated holders, canned drinks stacked in two neat, horizontal dispensers . . . everything in its place.
    Finch pushed the fridge door shut and turned toward the sink. Hailey followed but something caught her eye. Alton’s calendar taped squarely onto the upper right portion of the refrigerator. Today was the 24th. But his calendar said the 25th.
    That wasn’t like Alton Turner at all, based on what Hailey could surmise. Where was the tear-away sheet for today?
    Hailey opened the cabinet under the sink and, predictably, found a plastic kitchen trash can hidden under. Checking in, there was only one thing at the bottom of a white plastic trash can liner. A single paper packet of Dixie Crystals sugar, opened and empty. Alton must have had coffee just before he died.
    Hailey turned on her heel to continue on through a largely beige and gold den with dark brown accents. The room was dominated by a dark brown pit group in front of a prefab, built-in fireplace. Fire tools were arranged perfectly at its side even though it featured fixed gas logs. Above the wooden mantel was an oil painting of Alton standing behind his mother, seated in front of him. It looked like one painted from a local church directory photo.
    Alton’s mom had a really beautiful smile, and the strong similarity between the two was evident. Hailey had the eerie feeling Alton’s mom was watching her as she walked toward a narrow hall leading past a pristine guest bath with a night-light on, positioned over the sink beside the door. Just passing the door toward three bedrooms in the back of Alton’s house, Hailey passed a simple framed copy of his mom’s obit hanging alone in the hall. Her eyes again watched Hailey pass by.
    Glimpsing into Alton’s master bedroom, she noticed the bed was carefully made. The bedroom next to Alton’s was done in shades