She appeared in the door lithe, winsome
and unassuming in her stance dressed in a conservative blue coat and sensible
snow boots looking more like a librarian than a detective from the metropolitan
police. She removed the white wool hat and rested it on the dusty nineteenth
century bureau, upon a portrait of the victims’ parents. It appeared that no
change to the furnishings had occurred in the last fifty years. The police
photographer was taking snapshots of the body as well as various perspectives
around the room. The body was sprawled out face up on the worn out brown living
room carpet. Paunchy and short, the slightly balding, middle aged male, with
thick framed glasses had a hideous look of shock and pain forever engraved on
his face. He had not died in peace but rather had a piece of his life rudely
torn away. There were defensive wounds on the hands with thick coarse skin and
long two inch bristles of white hair under the nails. Detective Smythe politely
instructed the technician, who had just arrived, to take samples from under the
nails for the lab work.
“Sir at your convenience please take
samples from the nails for the lab work,” said Miss Smythe.
“Yes Mam “said the technician, a Mr. Nam.
The body had a large two inch diameter
hole in the center of the abdomen where blood had pooled and dripped down to
soak the carpet below it. To the right of the body a second smaller pool of
water had soaked the rug and was still damp. A damp water trail of footprints led
to the fire escape window. It was understood that the technician would take
samples of the carpet from both pools but the detective waited to make sure
that it was done properly having experienced incompetent procedures in the
past. Miss Smythe directed the scene like a conductor conducting an orchestra,
with polite manners but determination and authority in her voice. Frustrated that
the Medical Examiner had not arrived yet, she waited patiently for the annoying
man, a Mr. Punctuale who always had a perfectly believable and reasonable explication
for his tardiness. The detective’s mind worked like a computer organizing the scene
in her mind, chronologically depositing all relevant information collected into
files as they occurred in her theory. Within each file evidence was filed alphabetically.
All data was analyzed for its relative probability of correctness. Upon
reaching the window and easily lifting it in spite of the blizzard outside Ms.
Smythe was immediately drawn to enormous icy bipedal footprints that ascended
the fire escape, that stopped at the window resembling human footprints. Who
would walk around in this weather barefoot, she asked herself?
“Mr. Nam please take casts of these
footprints as well. Thank you.”
“Yes Mam,” said Mr. Nam.
The photographer was also asked for
close-ups of the prints as well as a panoramic view. Next Ms. Smythe twisted her torso around noticing the
large stalactites of ice hanging down from the fire escape above. A large one
was missing based on the three inch bare section that was gone. Her mind raced
realizing that this was the murder weapon with enough room for a grip and the
rest jammed mercilessly into the abdomen of the victim up to a diameter of a full
two inches. It would have been a perfect murder weapon dissolving in the warm apartment
when the deed was done and eliminating the evidence…
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