Read Online The Mentor by Rita Carla Francesca Monticelli - Free Book Online
Authors: Rita Carla Francesca Monticelli
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body.”
“He’d been gagged with tape!” This changed things.
“Exactly.” It was clearly Dawson’s favorite word. “So it’s no longer clear that he was shot in the neck to silence his yell before being shot in the groin. In fact, just the opposite may be true.” The doctor removed his glasses and lifted the head, turning it back so that the eyes looked upward. “Our talented Miss Pennington has an interesting theory about the way the homicide unfolded; it fits perfectly with what we can see on the body.”
Eric and Dawson both looked at Adele, who seemed to have been waiting for the two men to get around to talking to her.
“I’ve created a simulation,” she said, holding up the tablet she was using, but with the screen facing away from them. She sounded very sure of herself.
Eric hesitated for a moment, unsure whether or not to approach her. This is why it wasn’t a good idea to fraternize with colleagues. He felt embarrassed for gestures that under any other circumstances would have felt perfectly normal. Except that there hadn’t been any real fraternization between them. Nothing had happened. It was all in his head. He kept telling himself that and glanced at the doctor.
“She’s all yours,” said the doctor. What a strange choice of words. Eric almost gasped. “I’ve already seen it,” continued the doctor; then he put his glasses back on and went back to his file.
A little reluctantly, Shaw walked around the table and stood next to Adele. She moved her head a little, then waved one hand in front of her face as if to chase away a bug. He couldn’t see any bugs there, but the gesture sent a wave of her perfume wafting his way, overpowering the stench of dead flesh, if only for a moment.
“This is a reconstruction of the crime scene. It’s pretty rudimentary,” said Adele, almost apologizing beforehand.
The image on the screen was a three-dimensional reconstruction of the room in which they’d found the body. Roughly three feet away from the table, down on the floor, were two large bloodstains, one of which was roughly three times larger than the other. They weren’t round, but irregular, as if someone had prevented the blood from spreading out evenly. It was a very realistic reconstruction. Eric recognized the scene. All that was missing was the body.
“At first we thought that the victim was here, more or less, when he was shot,” Adele continued. A human figure materialized alongside the larger bloodstain.
“No, wait,” Eric interrupted. “If that were the case, we’d have high-velocity splatter marks all around the body, and gravitational drops where the body fell.”
“That’s right, and in fact there weren’t any,” she responded. “When we lifted the body up, most of the flooring underneath it was clean. That made me think Thompson wasn’t standing at all when he was shot.”
“Hold on.” Eric knew where Adele was going with this. “You think he was already on the floor.”
“That would explain the shape of the bloodstain, and the fact that the stain near the neck was moved with respect to the body,” said Adele, nodding.
Now Eric was a little lost. They’d thought the unusual position of the bloodstain was due to the fact that the victim had wriggled as he was dying.
“I’ll show you.” Adele fingered an icon on the side of the screen, and the position of the body changed. Now the human figure was no longer standing but lying down on the floor. “If they shot him when he was already lying on the floor, that would explain the direction of the bullets first and foremost.”
A new figure, this one armed with a gun, stood alongside the victim, its feet by the victim’s groin.
“The assassin threatens him with a gun, forces him to gag himself . . .” Adele’s account was fluid. It was clear she’d been working on it for a while. Given that it was nine o’clock on Monday morning, she must have been working on it during the weekend. “Then he
“He’d been gagged with tape!” This changed things.
“Exactly.” It was clearly Dawson’s favorite word. “So it’s no longer clear that he was shot in the neck to silence his yell before being shot in the groin. In fact, just the opposite may be true.” The doctor removed his glasses and lifted the head, turning it back so that the eyes looked upward. “Our talented Miss Pennington has an interesting theory about the way the homicide unfolded; it fits perfectly with what we can see on the body.”
Eric and Dawson both looked at Adele, who seemed to have been waiting for the two men to get around to talking to her.
“I’ve created a simulation,” she said, holding up the tablet she was using, but with the screen facing away from them. She sounded very sure of herself.
Eric hesitated for a moment, unsure whether or not to approach her. This is why it wasn’t a good idea to fraternize with colleagues. He felt embarrassed for gestures that under any other circumstances would have felt perfectly normal. Except that there hadn’t been any real fraternization between them. Nothing had happened. It was all in his head. He kept telling himself that and glanced at the doctor.
“She’s all yours,” said the doctor. What a strange choice of words. Eric almost gasped. “I’ve already seen it,” continued the doctor; then he put his glasses back on and went back to his file.
A little reluctantly, Shaw walked around the table and stood next to Adele. She moved her head a little, then waved one hand in front of her face as if to chase away a bug. He couldn’t see any bugs there, but the gesture sent a wave of her perfume wafting his way, overpowering the stench of dead flesh, if only for a moment.
“This is a reconstruction of the crime scene. It’s pretty rudimentary,” said Adele, almost apologizing beforehand.
The image on the screen was a three-dimensional reconstruction of the room in which they’d found the body. Roughly three feet away from the table, down on the floor, were two large bloodstains, one of which was roughly three times larger than the other. They weren’t round, but irregular, as if someone had prevented the blood from spreading out evenly. It was a very realistic reconstruction. Eric recognized the scene. All that was missing was the body.
“At first we thought that the victim was here, more or less, when he was shot,” Adele continued. A human figure materialized alongside the larger bloodstain.
“No, wait,” Eric interrupted. “If that were the case, we’d have high-velocity splatter marks all around the body, and gravitational drops where the body fell.”
“That’s right, and in fact there weren’t any,” she responded. “When we lifted the body up, most of the flooring underneath it was clean. That made me think Thompson wasn’t standing at all when he was shot.”
“Hold on.” Eric knew where Adele was going with this. “You think he was already on the floor.”
“That would explain the shape of the bloodstain, and the fact that the stain near the neck was moved with respect to the body,” said Adele, nodding.
Now Eric was a little lost. They’d thought the unusual position of the bloodstain was due to the fact that the victim had wriggled as he was dying.
“I’ll show you.” Adele fingered an icon on the side of the screen, and the position of the body changed. Now the human figure was no longer standing but lying down on the floor. “If they shot him when he was already lying on the floor, that would explain the direction of the bullets first and foremost.”
A new figure, this one armed with a gun, stood alongside the victim, its feet by the victim’s groin.
“The assassin threatens him with a gun, forces him to gag himself . . .” Adele’s account was fluid. It was clear she’d been working on it for a while. Given that it was nine o’clock on Monday morning, she must have been working on it during the weekend. “Then he
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