Leslie leads me back to her styling chair. “I know what happens to a body after rigor mortis starts to over from watching forensic shows. I know when the stiffening process begins to take shape and this is helpful for any good investigator to know. They have to look at the age of the victim, the weight of the victim, and the overall health of the victim.”
“I think,” said Joshua. “Not enough yet because it is a strange situation. We know Alan York fought for everything he had, his wealth, his family, his company.”
“So you saw the Ray-Bans on his face from the pics I sent you right?” I ask cause there was no way to miss those.”
“Yeah, they were squeezed on his head, you can see the sides of his face gripping them in the spare amount of fat he has,” says Katelyn.
“He walked a long way with tight sunglasses on, too.” I tilt my head down to allow Leslie to begin trimming my hair. “Why would a man so wealthy squeeze some Ray-Bans sunglasses on his face?”
“I wouldn’t do it. The sides of his face look indented, so he must have been wearing them for about two or three days. Maybe he had too much to drink or took something causing his eyes to look horrible and thrust his wife’s sunglasses on his face.”
“That’s an idea,” remarks Kaye.
“I saw some red scrapes on both of his legs in the photos, too.”
“Yes, I saw them.”
“How do you think he got those?” ask Katelyn.
“Well, I want to hear what you think.”
“I bet those sunglasses are needed for more than just shading out the sun. They look like the type with a prescription for eyesight. My Dad wears sunglasses like that too. He loves Ray-Bans by the way.”
“Okay. I never thought about that,” I say leaning my head to the side.
“Yeah, plus those sunglasses were not in the best shape either, I saw a few scapes on the lenses.”
“What is that telling us, Leslie?” I ask.
“I don’t know yet, what is it telling you?”
“No, I want to hear your theory. Just keep going.”
Katelyn jumps in. “Although his body looked fit, I believe he was a smoker. You can see the yellowness around his nails and his fingers looked dark from holding many cigarettes over the years.”
“That’s awesome, Katelyn. I didn’t you look around the backyard or the patio area much? I had to hurry up and get out of there before the detectives returned.”
“Noticed anything?” ask Katelyn.
“I didn’t see any heavy trampling over my grandma’s flowers. The detectives handled the area in such a sloppy way, I don’t think they even cared about forensics getting any evidence from the scene. Who knows what Mrs. Villery and her niece may have seen or walked over earlier? I did notice a damp spot on the patio. Who knows what that may hold?”
“It was raining a little bit the night before,” says Katelyn.
“True, but there was a dark substance on the edge of the patio, which the team probably thought was dirt from the lawn, but I think it is something more.”
“Now tell me what do think, Kaye?”
“I think you young ladies covered a lot. Some strange things are going on here. We have a man wearing posh sunglasses that are not fitting his head properly with scratches on the lenses. Then he also shows up unshaven with long unkempt hair. However, he is fit and trim but has discolored fingers and nails from smoking more than a pack of cigarettes a day.”
“Oh, I forgot to mention Doctor Hayes discovered our chiseled body had a broken front tooth with a few missing molars in the back. What do you think about that?”
“These power titans could care less about their teeth, right?” asks Leslie.
“I would agree with you, but his broken tooth was cut sharp that it was rubbing against his bottom inner lip. That had to hurt don’t you think?
“These days people do all kinds of weird things. He may have been using that as some sexual tool instead of going to get it repaired by a dentist,” Leslie states.
“You are revealing too much about what crosses your mind.”
We all laugh.
“This is for shock value, of course,” I say admiring my trimmed, colored hair in the mirror after Leslie applies the last finishing touches. “We’re looking for a hardcore criminal, who’s also has a comedic undertone, a hardcore comedian.”
Sounds like Lowell to me.
CHAPTER TWELVE
I’m loving this new hairstyle. The bathroom mirrors of GA are real and not distorted funhouse mirrors that were in my old school back home. I slide my fingers in and out of my thick hair feeling the loose waves.
Admiring my hands, I realize how slender and agile my fingers appear with nails I’m allowing to grow past my fingertips. I never had time for painting them or going in for a manicure. It is enough to manage the infrequent hair appointments.
My hair is soft and silky. Leslie does work miracles. A blast of color on my lips will make my new look pop. I paste a shade of hot red on my lips and soften into a smile. If I felt more confident in this school, I would wear more make-up because it is an asset to my looks. However, at GA, my good looks are a detriment whenever Lowell Bartlett finds me.
Let me get back to my duty in the café. I begged them to let me work in the kitchen, but they say it’s not allowed because I’m a student. I have to work on clearing the tables away refreshing the pitchers. Yes, I’m a waitress like my mother. No working in the kitchen, behind the scenes for me.
“I like your hair, did you do something different to it?” asks Myles Walston.
He’s a close friend of Lowell Bartlett, but a much
