Read Online Some Degree of Murder by Frank Zafiro, Colin Conway - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Frank Zafiro, Colin Conway
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called Lindsay and had him start out to the motel so I could go write the search warrant. Then I called Glenda and told her some of the details so she could at least get the beginnings of the warrant started. I sat in the hard chair of the small motel lobby making notes for the search warrant.
Peggy watched me while I made notes, suspicion still etched in her face. When Billings and Lindsay finally arrived, I didn’t feel guilty at all about leaving them there. The three of them deserved one another. I sped back to the station and dictated directly to Glenda, who typed faster than I could talk. After a quick proofread and then an agonizing three minutes while Crawford looked it over and signed his approval, I hustled over to the courthouse and caught Judge Thompson still in his office. He was about to leave, but didn’t make a fuss about it. He read the warrant carefully, and then signed it without a single question.
“Good luck, detective,” he told me as he handed the search warrant across his desk.
Ten minutes later, I stood outside of room number eight of the Palms Motel. Lindsay was on the other side of the doorway, his gun drawn and at his side. Billings stood several feet behind, looking bored. Peggy, her suspicion now outweighed by curiosity, waited several doors down, watching us intently.
I considered doing a knock and announce, which was required by law. But Peggy said that Serena never had any visitors and no one else was on the room registration. The odds of surprising anyone inside were slim.
Lindsay noticed my hesitation. “You want me to announce?”
“No.” I slipped the key into the door. Then I drew my pistol and swung the door open.
The room was empty. The only place I couldn’t see was in the bathroom.
“Police!” Lindsay called into the room. “Search warrant!”
I made entry and went straight to the bathroom. It was empty, too. “Clear.”
Lindsay holstered his gun and stepped through the doorway.
I held up my hands. “Stop.”
He stopped in mid-step. “Huh?”
“I said stop. Go down to the car and grab some paper bags. Get six of each size. Have Billings maintain the crime scene there at the door.”
Lindsay’s face fell. “I thought you might want help processing the scene.”
“You are going to help me with the search. I just want to be orderly about it.” I motioned to the empty table next to the window. “We’ll use this as an evidence table.”
Lindsay nodded, then turned around and nearly ran from the room.
I suppressed a sigh and turned to the motel room.
Serena Gonzalez was a neat and simple woman, I quickly learned. She folded her clothes and kept them in the drawers. Her empty suitcase was in the closet. She had typical toiletries in the bathroom. Nothing out of the ordinary.
I found her room key on the nightstand next to the bed. She must have forgotten it that night, I figured.
Lindsay followed me around the room with an armful of bags. I was grateful that he didn’t ask any more questions. Once it became clear that Serena Gonzalez did not have a lot of possessions to go through, I set him to work collecting her clothing and bagging it up. Since there was no next of kin to claim her belongings, we’d have to secure it at police property.
I couldn’t find a purse anywhere in the motel room. I remembered that she hadn’t had one with her when her body was discovered, either. That bothered me. I wondered if the killer kept it. Or if robbery was the motive. Maybe it started out as a robbery and devolved into an assault. Then a rape. Then murder. Sometimes things get out of hand and it happens that way.
In the drawer beside the bed, I found a postcard. On the front was a picture of the clock tower in Riverfront Park with the city slogan. River City. Near nature. Near perfect . I flipped it over and saw the beginnings of a letter in feminine hand.
Queridisima Prima , the letter began. ¿Como estas? I got a good job here, working at the grocery
Peggy watched me while I made notes, suspicion still etched in her face. When Billings and Lindsay finally arrived, I didn’t feel guilty at all about leaving them there. The three of them deserved one another. I sped back to the station and dictated directly to Glenda, who typed faster than I could talk. After a quick proofread and then an agonizing three minutes while Crawford looked it over and signed his approval, I hustled over to the courthouse and caught Judge Thompson still in his office. He was about to leave, but didn’t make a fuss about it. He read the warrant carefully, and then signed it without a single question.
“Good luck, detective,” he told me as he handed the search warrant across his desk.
Ten minutes later, I stood outside of room number eight of the Palms Motel. Lindsay was on the other side of the doorway, his gun drawn and at his side. Billings stood several feet behind, looking bored. Peggy, her suspicion now outweighed by curiosity, waited several doors down, watching us intently.
I considered doing a knock and announce, which was required by law. But Peggy said that Serena never had any visitors and no one else was on the room registration. The odds of surprising anyone inside were slim.
Lindsay noticed my hesitation. “You want me to announce?”
“No.” I slipped the key into the door. Then I drew my pistol and swung the door open.
The room was empty. The only place I couldn’t see was in the bathroom.
“Police!” Lindsay called into the room. “Search warrant!”
I made entry and went straight to the bathroom. It was empty, too. “Clear.”
Lindsay holstered his gun and stepped through the doorway.
I held up my hands. “Stop.”
He stopped in mid-step. “Huh?”
“I said stop. Go down to the car and grab some paper bags. Get six of each size. Have Billings maintain the crime scene there at the door.”
Lindsay’s face fell. “I thought you might want help processing the scene.”
“You are going to help me with the search. I just want to be orderly about it.” I motioned to the empty table next to the window. “We’ll use this as an evidence table.”
Lindsay nodded, then turned around and nearly ran from the room.
I suppressed a sigh and turned to the motel room.
Serena Gonzalez was a neat and simple woman, I quickly learned. She folded her clothes and kept them in the drawers. Her empty suitcase was in the closet. She had typical toiletries in the bathroom. Nothing out of the ordinary.
I found her room key on the nightstand next to the bed. She must have forgotten it that night, I figured.
Lindsay followed me around the room with an armful of bags. I was grateful that he didn’t ask any more questions. Once it became clear that Serena Gonzalez did not have a lot of possessions to go through, I set him to work collecting her clothing and bagging it up. Since there was no next of kin to claim her belongings, we’d have to secure it at police property.
I couldn’t find a purse anywhere in the motel room. I remembered that she hadn’t had one with her when her body was discovered, either. That bothered me. I wondered if the killer kept it. Or if robbery was the motive. Maybe it started out as a robbery and devolved into an assault. Then a rape. Then murder. Sometimes things get out of hand and it happens that way.
In the drawer beside the bed, I found a postcard. On the front was a picture of the clock tower in Riverfront Park with the city slogan. River City. Near nature. Near perfect . I flipped it over and saw the beginnings of a letter in feminine hand.
Queridisima Prima , the letter began. ¿Como estas? I got a good job here, working at the grocery
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