Naked, she entered the bathroom. Although she had been girding herself for the worst, she certainly had no way of anticipating this.
She screamed. Over and over. Then she ran from the bathroom.
Lieutenant Ned Harris was in Hank Hunsinger’s bathroom. It was the scene of the crime and he was being careful not to miss a single detail. Very soon, investigative specialists would be swarming over the apartment, each performing his or her task. Before that happened, Harris had the rare opportunity to commune with the place where death had occurred, where, probably, murder had been committed. He would never again in this case have this perfect opportunity to be in this specific location where vital clues and silent testimony told no lies. As he studied the apartment, he allowed the everyday inanimate objects to talk to him wordlessly.
Harris was an inch and a half to two inches more than six feet tall. His build was slender but powerful. Aquiline features and a receding hairline set off his deep black skin. He had been a part of the homicide division for most of his professional career. He loved it.
His partner on this case, Sergeant Ray Ewing, was interviewing the witness, Jan Taylor, in the living room.
Ewing, at five-feet-eleven, with a stocky physique, somewhat resembled singer Steve Lawrence. He also had Lawrence’s pleasant voice and engaging smile.
Harris and Ewing had been the sole occupants of their squad’s office at police headquarters on that otherwise slow Sunday evening when they got the call from the uniformed officers who had responded to Jan Taylor’s 911 call.
“Would you mind going over that one more time, Miss Taylor?” Ewing continued to scribble notes on his pad. “Why would Mr. Hunsinger take another shower when he got back here after the game? He would have taken one before leaving the stadium, wouldn’t he?”
Jan dabbed at her eyes with a corner of her handkerchief. She was obviously distraught. Ewing chose to reserve judgment on the reason for her anxiety. It might have been the sudden loss of whatever Hunsinger had been to her. It might have been the shock at what she had found in the bathroom.
“He was never satisfied with the shower at the stadium.” This was her second time through the second- shower phenomenon. She wondered why she had been asked to repeat the explanation. “What with the heat in the locker room, the steam from the showers, and the lights from the TV cameras, he said he always felt as sweaty after that shower as he had before.”
“So?”
“So he always took another shower when he got home.”
Ewing noted the slight show of color in Jan’s face when she reached this part of her testimony the second time through. He surmised that the second shower probably was for her benefit. Taking stock of her, he did not blame Hunsinger.
“Always?”
“The Hun,” Jan replied, a touch caustically, “did everything he did
“And what time was it when you entered the apartment?” The third time for this question.
“About six-thirty, or a quarter to seven.”
“And was that tape in the video cassette deck playing?” First time for this question.
“I. . I don’t recall.”
“It was playing when we entered the apartment. If it was on when you came, did you turn it on?”
“I. .I guess it must have been playing when I came in.”
You bet it was, Ewing thought. And that tells us much about the relationship between the two of you and why you’re going to be on the shy side of telling us much about it.
“Then you went into the bedroom. Why was that?”
“I heard the shower. I knew Hank couldn’t hear me with the water running and I wanted him to know I was here.”
“And then you said you noticed that Mr. Hunsinger’s disinfecting unit was operating. It was cleaning his contact lenses?”
“Yes. I just happened to glance over and saw the red light lit.”
“Anything significant in that?”
“Well, it told me he hadn’t been in the shower very long.”
“How’s that?”
“The unit turns itself off after about twenty minutes.”
“So he would have been in the shower something less than twenty minutes. Then he wouldn’t have begun his shower much before you got here.”
“That’s right, I guess.”
“Are you married, Ms. Taylor?”
“No.”
“Ever been?”
She hesitated a split second. “No.”
“Ms. Taylor?” Lieutenant Harris had been standing in the doorway between the living room and bedroom for some time. Jan hadn’t noticed him. His words startled her.
“Yes?” She looked up at him.
“Could you tell us why there was a bottle of DMSO in Mr. Hunsinger’s bathroom?” Harris had heard enough to learn that Jan Taylor would have been in a position to know just about everything about Hunsinger.
“He kept some here and some at the stadium. It was for pain. Mostly in his shoulder. Sometimes his knees. He’s had a lot of operations. He never knew when the pain was going to flare up. I guess it’s supposed to be a controlled substance, but. .” Her voice trailed. She couldn’t understand why with a man dead the police were concerned about DMSO. Even though it was not approved for use as a painkiller, anyone could buy it as a solvent in any number of stores. It was like worrying about bank robbers being illegally parked.
“I’m not so concerned about its being a controlled substance as I am about why it would be on a shelf in the shower area with other toiletries. And why the DMSO container should be open as if it were being used during his shower.”
Jan appeared perplexed.
“If you’ll accompany me to the bathroom, I’ll show you. .” Harris stepped in the direction of the bathroom as if inviting her to follow him.
“Is. . is he. . uh … still there?”
“Outside of turning off the shower, nothing’s been touched, Ms. Taylor.”
“There must be some other way. . without having to see him again.” She thought for a moment. “Wait; that’s all wrong. Hun kept the DMSO in the medicine cabinet. It was never on the shower shelf. Where did you find it? Where was it on the shelf?”
Harris consulted his notes. “The second container from the left.”
She need only a moment to consider this. “Second from the left? That’s where he kept the shampoo.”
“Are you certain?”
“Absolutely.”
“Always?”
Ewing, smiling, broke into the conversation. “Apparently when Mr. Hunsinger did anything, he always did it the same way. A bit of a compulsive, I take it.”
Jan nodded.
Ewing sensed that Harris had no more questions for Jan. Nor had he. “I have your address and phone number, Ms. Taylor. We’ll undoubtedly have more questions as this investigation continues. So we’ll probably be in touch with you.”
“May I leave now?”
Ewing glanced at Harris before dismissing Jan Taylor.
“Come on,” Harris said, “I want you to see a few things.”
“She lied to me twice,” said Ewing as Harris led the way back to the bathroom.
“Oh?”
“Yeah. She knew the skin flick was on when she came in, but wouldn’t admit it until I confronted her with
