“That’s what it looks like, yes, Detective.”
This time, Ashton let the mode of address pass; Walder always emphasized his status as the ranking investigator anyway. He was more interested in the implications of the layout in front of him – more so, given that neither Garza nor any of his team had actually heard any of the interviews with Palomo or the staff.
“And there are four lines of powder residue that were ejected from the gun – one big one for the victim…that argues for all three shots fired from the same place…and smaller ones for each of the bullets in the wall, forming a right angle to the victim’s line. Oh, were you able to pry any of the bullets out of the wall?”
“Yes, sir,” Patricia spoke up then. “I got all three, after I did in situ imagery and measured the diameters of the holes. At initial analysis, the caliber appears to match the weapon you found in the yard.”
“Excellent. And none of those firing lines point toward the balcony.”
“No, sir,” Garza verified. “Now, the shooter could have run into the room to about this point here,” he indicated the intersection of the gunpowder lines, “and unloaded, then run out. But I’m still trying to figure out how he got onto the balcony to begin with. Like you said, it’s one thing to get down there, but another entirely to get up. Never mind the stupidity of running so far into the room, where he might have been caught if, say, someone was around the corner from the balcony. Still, the crowd outside is agitated, half are drunk, and somebody has to be on the low end of the intelligence curve, after all.”
“What did the security imagery show?” Ashton asked.
“No one around the house within the fenced perimeter who shouldn’t be there, sir.”
“Only external video?”
“Afraid so, sir.”
“Mm. Thought so. How about checking the personnel for residue?”
“No residue on any of the staff, sir.”
“Has anyone checked Mr. Palomo yet?”
“Not yet, sir. We…weren’t sure if you wanted him checked too, or not, given he might have residue from where he was shot at.”
Garza is good at laying out the crime scene, Ashton thought, stifling a sigh, but he has no imagination or insight into it.
“Yes, I want his hands, cuffs, sleeves, and shirt front checked, please. And do be very thorough.”
Fifteen minutes later, the appropriate team members came back.
“Sir! Mr. Palomo’s hands are clean, but his left shirt cuff and part of the sleeve show definite signs of powder residue.”
“And he’s left-handed,” Ashton said, remembering the instinctive gesture Palomo had made at the recorder when he had interviewed the man. “All right. Keep him in custody while I pull up General Walder and report in. The Throne is interested in this one, so we may need specific instructions.”
“Yes, sir.”
“General Walder? This is Nick Ashton.”
“Ah. Do you have something for me, Ashton?”
“I do, sir. It was Mr. Palomo, without doubt.”
“Lay it out for me.”
“All right, sir. Angles showed the shooter was at a distance of only about ten feet from the sector governor when she was shot. This is inconsistent with Mr. Palomo’s story of a shooter at the balcony doors. He would have had to walk well into the room – say, fifteen to twenty feet – to be within that distance of the location where we found the body, and that would give either of the Palomos a chance to call security. Further, there is no ready access to the balcony from the ground, or any other direction except the room in which the crime was committed. The weapon was, however, found about twenty or twenty-five feet away from the end of the balcony, underneath a landscape shrub, on the side of the shrub next to the house.”
“Where it could have easily been thrown from the balcony,” Walder speculated.
“Exactly. Yes, sir. With a scrape mark in the dirt pointing at the balcony. And the initial field analysis indicates that the bullets fired were of the same caliber as the weapon. Further, there were no casings found at the scene, and the weapon found was an old-fashioned revolver, smelling strongly of gunpowder. We then looked for powder residue on the floor from the various shots. There were four lines of powder drop along the floor – one for each bullet hole in the walls, plus a much heavier one back from the body. This would be consistent with multiple shots from the same location. None of it extended toward the balcony doors, but the wall shots were at approximately ninety degrees from the body – roughly, given that they were somewhat spread out – making the story of a shooter from the balcony much less likely.”
“All good so far.”
“Would you like for me to set up the crime scene in VR, so you can see it in three dimensions, sir?”
“No need. I can see it in my mind’s eye, as you describe it. Keep going, Ashton.”
“Yes, sir. In addition, while there was no powder residue detected on Mr. Palomo’s hands, he had plenty of time to wash his hands – according to the staffer who reported the murder to us, he had time to close her eyes–”
“Wait, what?”
“Oh. According to the staffer who ran in right after the shooting, then ran to contact us, Ms. Palomo’s eyes were open and staring at the ceiling, and Mr. Palomo ran in from the balcony, claiming a shooter had just come in from there, shot her, and ran out. More, he apparently was not agitated and fearful, according to the staff member, but rather incensed. Yet when we arrived, Ms. Palomo’s eyes were closed, and Mr. Palomo was hiding behind the sofa, claiming to have
