I watched them go with no small amount of satisfaction. The mom shot me dirty looks over her shoulder until they went inside a house a large house, four doors down. God, that felt good.
“Uh, Mel?” Bill said behind me. “Crime scene inside. Boss waiting for us. Remember?”
Oh, yeah. That. I guess public relations was over. Time to go do my job.
We checked in with the perimeter officer at the front door, donned gloves, masks and bags for our shoes then went inside. We found ourselves in a cozy living room, with a matching sofa and love seat sitting around a wooden coffee table. In the corner was an electric fireplace, unlit despite the cold. A tidy desk with a computer, headset and foot pedal took up much of the free space. There were even a couple of filing cabinets and a cork board with official-looking memos and reminders pinned to it. Numerous paintings hung on the tan walls and several photos of an attractive, dark-haired woman smiling in various exotic locations adorned the mantle.
The forensics team was already hard at work, dusting for prints, taking pictures and documenting evidence. One of them, a heavyset man with deep laugh lines at the corner of his eyes, came up to us as soon as we walked in.
“Hiya, Mel,” he said through his mask. “Heard you’re the Grand Poobah on this one.” He shook his head. “I don’t envy you.”
I recognized the voice of Charley Sawyer immediately. He was one of the best forensic team leaders in the department, and I was glad to have him with me on this one.
“Hey, Charley,” I said fondly. “Care to give me the rundown?” He shook his head.
“Sorry. Can’t. Calloway is waiting for you in the kitchen. Said he’d brief you himself and anyone who jumped the gun would be assigned to the graveyard shift for a month.”
“Well, we can’t have that.” I looked at Bill and gestured towards the open doorway that presumably led to the kitchen. “After you?” I said hopefully. He shook his head.
“Not on your life, Grand Poobah.” I sighed and walked in.
Lt. Calloway was seated at the small kitchen counter, sipping a cup of coffee as he read over a thin file. His mask lay forgotten in his lap. He glanced up as we came in, then made a dramatic show of checking his watch.
“What happened, Detective Graves?” he asked sourly. “Did you have to stop and reapply your mascara on the way here?” I nodded.
“Yes, Sir. Do you like the color?” I learned a long time ago that you could get by with saying a lot to a supervisor as long as you threw a ‘Sir’ in there. His beady eyes narrowed in contempt as he heard the disrespect in my tone, but not my words.
“Detective, this is the first murder to be committed in this neighborhood in over two decades. Many people, important people, might see this as a disturbing indication of a rising crime rate. We don’t want that. We want people to feel safe inside their homes. That’s why the powers that be want this case cleared up, solved and with a nice pretty bow on top. Is that clear?” I nodded.
“Yes, Sir. I keep several bows in my purse right next to the tampons for just such an occasion. Is that for me?” I held out my hand for the file. Calloway flexed his jaw several times, then slapped it into my palm. I passed it back to Bill.
“Perkins, keep her in line.”
“I’ll need backup and overtime for that, Lieutenant.” Seeing there were no allies to be had, Calloway gave an angry snort and marched out of the kitchen. We heard him yell something to one of the forensics guys who happened to cross his path, then the front door slammed and he was gone. Charley poked his head in a second later.
“Everyone in one piece?” he asked.
“More or less.”
“Well, that’s more than could be said for the victim. She’s waiting for you upstairs in the master bathroom.” He turned to go. “Oh, and if either of you had a big breakfast this morning, you might want to bring one of these with you.”
He held out two barf bags. Bill took one, then offered the other to me. I shook my head. He arched an eyebrow, then put the extra one in his back pocket, just in case. I rolled my eyes and pushed past him, heading up the stairs. After all, how bad could it be?
CHAPTER TWO
It was bad! It was really bad. The feeling of closeness and anxiety grew as we ascended the narrow stairs to the second floor. I made sure to follow Charley and step only where he stepped. The smell hit us when we were about halfway down a small hallway. Burnt meat. Oh, God.
The stench grew stronger when we got to the master bedroom. It was small, like the rest of the house. A queen-size bed, dresser and vanity filled the room. Against the far wall, the bathroom door stood open. I swallowed hard and went inside.
It was worse than I’d imagined…by a long shot. The body of a white female lay naked in the tub. Most of her skin was charred and black. Numerous stab wounds adorned her chest and abdomen and a thick pool of blood stood two inches deep around the corpse. Most of it had been absorbed by a white, sand-like substance, haphazardly sprinkled all over the area. An empty container in the corner confirmed what it looked like; salt.
But the worst, the
