luck.”
The detectives slipped on latex gloves.
Dupree turned the doorknob and pushed open the steel door. T.J. and she stopped cold before stepping over the threshold.
“Looks like someone beat us to the punch,” Dupree said. “This place looks like a tornado blew through it.”
Dupree speed-dialed Butler’s phone number. He picked up on the first ring. “Hey, John. It’s Amaris.”
“What’s up?”
“I need a CSI team dispatched to 1550 Plaza Street West ASAP. It’s in the Park Slope area. T.J. and I just gained entry to Dr. Crawford’s apartment and somebody turned the place upside down. Call me when you get here and I’ll meet you in the lobby.”
“We’ll be there as soon as we can. I know I don’t have to remind you, but please don’t touch—”
“Save your speech for the rookies.”
When Dupree hung up and turned around, T.J. was still standing in the doorway perusing the main living area.
“Well, it seems that whoever murdered Dr. Crawford,” Dupree said, “wasn’t satisfied with her computer and external drive. Or they didn’t find what they were looking for.”
“Should we go in and poke around before the crew gets here?” T.J. asked.
“Of course.”
Dupree and T.J. gingerly navigated their way into the apartment, finding it difficult to weave through the rubble without disturbing anything. The sofa was turned upside down and the fabric on the underside of the sofa was torn open. Like fallen soldiers, several lamps lay on the floor. A desk was turned on its side, the drawers pulled out, lying on the floor with the contents scattered about. A flat screen TVlay on the floor, its screen shattered. They wandered into bedrooms, bathrooms and looked in closets. But nothing struck either of them.
“Wow,” Dupree said. “It almost looks like whoever did this was more than looking for something.”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t you think that a thief would take her jewelry? There’s a pile of it lying on the bedroom floor and a few pieces look expensive.” Dupree, moving towards the kitchen, pointed. “Look at that Nikon camera sitting on the kitchen table. Why would a thief leave that behind?”
Dupree walked over to the refrigerator and studied the front of the door. It was covered with everything from photos, to little pieces of paper with phone numbers, to magnets from the local pizza joint, insurance agent, and a real estate broker. There was also an assortment of sticky notes attached to the side of the refrigerator. Dupree studied each and every one of them. About to walk away, a light blue sticky note caught her eye.
“Check this out.”
T.J. made his way to the kitchen.
“Remember what Lentz told us about Dr. Crawford believing that someone in a white Ford was following her?”
“What about it?”
Dupree pointed to the blue sticky note “White Ford Fusion. JAF-9401.”
CHAPTER TEN
Dupree was amazed that she could get a cell phone signal while T.J. and she rode the elevator down to the lobby of Dr. Crawford’s building. She called Brenda—her go-to-gal—and asked her to run the plate number for the Ford Fusion. When the elevator doors opened, David Cardone, the superintendent, was standing near the entrance speaking to the doorman. As soon as Cardone noticed the detectives, he abruptly ended his conversation and walked over to them.
“Well, detectives, did you find anything unusual in Dr. Crawford’s residence?”
“Other than the fact that it looks like Godzilla and King Kong had a little party up there,” T.J. said, “everything looks fine.”
T.J. explained to Cardone what they’d found.
“I don’t understand,” Cardone said. “No one has been in there since Dr. Crawford’s murder.”
“I’m going to disagree with you on that one,” Dupree said. “The place is completely trashed.”
“I don’t know how this happened,” Cardone said. “If it’s as bad as you say, whoever broke in must have made a racket.”
“Based on
The detectives slipped on latex gloves.
Dupree turned the doorknob and pushed open the steel door. T.J. and she stopped cold before stepping over the threshold.
“Looks like someone beat us to the punch,” Dupree said. “This place looks like a tornado blew through it.”
Dupree speed-dialed Butler’s phone number. He picked up on the first ring. “Hey, John. It’s Amaris.”
“What’s up?”
“I need a CSI team dispatched to 1550 Plaza Street West ASAP. It’s in the Park Slope area. T.J. and I just gained entry to Dr. Crawford’s apartment and somebody turned the place upside down. Call me when you get here and I’ll meet you in the lobby.”
“We’ll be there as soon as we can. I know I don’t have to remind you, but please don’t touch—”
“Save your speech for the rookies.”
When Dupree hung up and turned around, T.J. was still standing in the doorway perusing the main living area.
“Well, it seems that whoever murdered Dr. Crawford,” Dupree said, “wasn’t satisfied with her computer and external drive. Or they didn’t find what they were looking for.”
“Should we go in and poke around before the crew gets here?” T.J. asked.
“Of course.”
Dupree and T.J. gingerly navigated their way into the apartment, finding it difficult to weave through the rubble without disturbing anything. The sofa was turned upside down and the fabric on the underside of the sofa was torn open. Like fallen soldiers, several lamps lay on the floor. A desk was turned on its side, the drawers pulled out, lying on the floor with the contents scattered about. A flat screen TVlay on the floor, its screen shattered. They wandered into bedrooms, bathrooms and looked in closets. But nothing struck either of them.
“Wow,” Dupree said. “It almost looks like whoever did this was more than looking for something.”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t you think that a thief would take her jewelry? There’s a pile of it lying on the bedroom floor and a few pieces look expensive.” Dupree, moving towards the kitchen, pointed. “Look at that Nikon camera sitting on the kitchen table. Why would a thief leave that behind?”
Dupree walked over to the refrigerator and studied the front of the door. It was covered with everything from photos, to little pieces of paper with phone numbers, to magnets from the local pizza joint, insurance agent, and a real estate broker. There was also an assortment of sticky notes attached to the side of the refrigerator. Dupree studied each and every one of them. About to walk away, a light blue sticky note caught her eye.
“Check this out.”
T.J. made his way to the kitchen.
“Remember what Lentz told us about Dr. Crawford believing that someone in a white Ford was following her?”
“What about it?”
Dupree pointed to the blue sticky note “White Ford Fusion. JAF-9401.”
CHAPTER TEN
Dupree was amazed that she could get a cell phone signal while T.J. and she rode the elevator down to the lobby of Dr. Crawford’s building. She called Brenda—her go-to-gal—and asked her to run the plate number for the Ford Fusion. When the elevator doors opened, David Cardone, the superintendent, was standing near the entrance speaking to the doorman. As soon as Cardone noticed the detectives, he abruptly ended his conversation and walked over to them.
“Well, detectives, did you find anything unusual in Dr. Crawford’s residence?”
“Other than the fact that it looks like Godzilla and King Kong had a little party up there,” T.J. said, “everything looks fine.”
T.J. explained to Cardone what they’d found.
“I don’t understand,” Cardone said. “No one has been in there since Dr. Crawford’s murder.”
“I’m going to disagree with you on that one,” Dupree said. “The place is completely trashed.”
“I don’t know how this happened,” Cardone said. “If it’s as bad as you say, whoever broke in must have made a racket.”
“Based on
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