people who knew the victims undoubtedly committed the murders and participated in the act of mayhem. The relationship of the perpetrators was unknown. And there was the insignificant item of a broken flowerpot and the absence of a dog. The inside of the house was meticulously cared for with everything in its place. The flowerpot was incongruous. What was its meaning or was it nothing at all? She looked at Kurtz, “By the way, what did CSI do with that flower pot?” Gail wasn’t given an opportunity to answer. Wilson banged her fist on the table and shouted, “Who the hell is Rita?
Devlin spoke. “We don’t have much to go on, Chief.”
Wilson looked at him and said, “Tell me something I don’t know.”
Huff chimed in, “She had a roommate.”
“Who?”
“Linda Greenwell,” Huff said. He told the chief that he had gone to Community Hospital as ordered and asked around for information. He learned that Greenwell was well liked by her fellow employees. He also learned that she never dated. Some of the guys asked her out but she always politely declined. He also discovered that starting about four months ago a woman was living with her from time to time. That, too, was part of the gossip he gleaned from Sharon at O’Neill’s. They didn’t know her name. Greenwell didn’t say much about her to her friends at the hospital. Devlin chimed in, “That confirms what the old lady on Maple Street said, something about seeing two women in that house.”
Wilson’s face turned crimson. “When were you going to tell me, Devlin?” She barked an order to Huff, “Find out this woman’s name and put out an APB for her. Huff, you’re getting to be a real good snoop. Go to the post office and see if someone besides Greenwell is getting mail at 172 Elm.”
At the end of his shift, Stanton signed out. He was the oldest and most senior officer on the West Warwick police force. By all right he had been in line to become the next Chief of Police. Several issues precluded his appointment. It was not so much that he’d been divorced, as it was his behavior subsequent to the marital separation. He’d become quiet and introspective. He befriended no one in the department and lived alone. The people he worked with considered him moody. His emotional stability came into question. His resentment at not being selected was muted. He didn’t feel that he could take on the responsibility of the job at that stage of his life, but he was more than annoyed that he wasn’t at least considered. In spite of all the politicking that went on after the former chief’s retirement, Stanton was content with remaining a Lieutenant. He had no issues with Chief Wilson. She treated him as a professional and it was all that he expected. He drove home to his apartment, changed into his favorite blue jeans, boots and tee shirt, and walked the few blocks to Clarice’s Bar and Grill where he downed several bottles of beer. While sitting at the bar, he ate his dinner alone. It was what he did most days of the week.
Chapter 5
Pressured by her boss, Susan Angel could no longer keep the story under wraps. It first appeared in the early Wednesday morning edition of the West Warwick Gazette. The only concession she could extract from her editor was to run it on page six, hoping that other newspapers would not delve into the guts of a small town newspaper. She, too, did not want the harsh eye of the major newspapers and TV media focused on her town. The scrutiny of outsiders could very well tarnish its reputation. She was well aware that the college’s reputation and vitality depended on the public perception of West Warwick.
Officer Steven Huff was at home eating his breakfast, a stack of pancakes slathered with butter and dripping Vermont maple syrup, when his wife brought in the newspaper from the porch. She sat across the table from her husband and began to leaf through it. They exchanged little conversation. After thirty years of marriage they had
Devlin spoke. “We don’t have much to go on, Chief.”
Wilson looked at him and said, “Tell me something I don’t know.”
Huff chimed in, “She had a roommate.”
“Who?”
“Linda Greenwell,” Huff said. He told the chief that he had gone to Community Hospital as ordered and asked around for information. He learned that Greenwell was well liked by her fellow employees. He also learned that she never dated. Some of the guys asked her out but she always politely declined. He also discovered that starting about four months ago a woman was living with her from time to time. That, too, was part of the gossip he gleaned from Sharon at O’Neill’s. They didn’t know her name. Greenwell didn’t say much about her to her friends at the hospital. Devlin chimed in, “That confirms what the old lady on Maple Street said, something about seeing two women in that house.”
Wilson’s face turned crimson. “When were you going to tell me, Devlin?” She barked an order to Huff, “Find out this woman’s name and put out an APB for her. Huff, you’re getting to be a real good snoop. Go to the post office and see if someone besides Greenwell is getting mail at 172 Elm.”
At the end of his shift, Stanton signed out. He was the oldest and most senior officer on the West Warwick police force. By all right he had been in line to become the next Chief of Police. Several issues precluded his appointment. It was not so much that he’d been divorced, as it was his behavior subsequent to the marital separation. He’d become quiet and introspective. He befriended no one in the department and lived alone. The people he worked with considered him moody. His emotional stability came into question. His resentment at not being selected was muted. He didn’t feel that he could take on the responsibility of the job at that stage of his life, but he was more than annoyed that he wasn’t at least considered. In spite of all the politicking that went on after the former chief’s retirement, Stanton was content with remaining a Lieutenant. He had no issues with Chief Wilson. She treated him as a professional and it was all that he expected. He drove home to his apartment, changed into his favorite blue jeans, boots and tee shirt, and walked the few blocks to Clarice’s Bar and Grill where he downed several bottles of beer. While sitting at the bar, he ate his dinner alone. It was what he did most days of the week.
Chapter 5
Pressured by her boss, Susan Angel could no longer keep the story under wraps. It first appeared in the early Wednesday morning edition of the West Warwick Gazette. The only concession she could extract from her editor was to run it on page six, hoping that other newspapers would not delve into the guts of a small town newspaper. She, too, did not want the harsh eye of the major newspapers and TV media focused on her town. The scrutiny of outsiders could very well tarnish its reputation. She was well aware that the college’s reputation and vitality depended on the public perception of West Warwick.
Officer Steven Huff was at home eating his breakfast, a stack of pancakes slathered with butter and dripping Vermont maple syrup, when his wife brought in the newspaper from the porch. She sat across the table from her husband and began to leaf through it. They exchanged little conversation. After thirty years of marriage they had
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