seem to be missing that small detail.”
“The blood seems to be confined to this room,” the medical examiner told her.
Maggie noticed he was the only one wearing latex gloves.
“If someone ran out, but was injured, you’d think there’d be some drips, some scuffs, something. But the house is fucking clean enough to eat off the floors.” Manx swiped at his new hairdo again.
“The kitchen’s not so clean,” Maggie contradicted him.
He scowled at her. “How goddamn long have you been sneaking around here?”
She ignored him and kneeled down to get a closer look at the blood on the floor. Most of it was congealed, some dried. She guessed it had been here since morning.
“Maybe she didn’t have time to clean up after lunch,” Manx continued instead of waiting for her to answer his question.
“How do you know the victim is a woman?”
“A neighbor called us when she couldn’t get her on the phone. Said they were supposed to go shopping. She saw the car in the garage, but no one answered the door. See, I’m thinking the guy—whoever he was—must have interrupted her lunch.”
“What makes you think the sandwich was hers?”
The three of them stopped simultaneously. Again, they exchanged looks, then stared at Maggie, like foreign diplomats relying on each other for interpretation.
“What the hell are you saying, O’Donnell?”
“The name is O’Dell, Detective Manx.” She let him hear her irritation this time. His blatant disregard was a small but familiar and annoying way to discredit her. “The victim’s house is impeccable. She wouldn’t have left a mess like that, let alone sit down to eat before she cleaned it up.”
“Maybe she was interrupted.”
“Perhaps. But there’s no sign of a struggle in the kitchen. And the alarm system was off, right?”
Manx looked annoyed that she had guessed correctly. “Yeah, it was off, so maybe it was someone she knew.”
“That’s possible.” Maggie stood and let her eyes take in the rest of the room. “If he did interrupt or surprise her, that didn’t happen until they were up here. She may have been waiting for him, or perhaps she invited him up. That’s probably why there’s no signs of a struggle until we get into the bedroom. She may have changed her mind. Didn’t want to go through with whatever they had agreed to. This spatter pattern here on the door is strange.” She pointed to it, careful not to touch. “It’s so far down, one of them would need to be on the floor when this wound was inflicted.”
She walked to the window, feeling the men’s eyes follow her. Suddenly she had their attention. Through the sheer curtains she could see the backyard, similar to her own, spacious and secluded by flowering dogwoods and huge pines. None of the neighbors’ houses were even visible, all hidden by the foliage and trees. No one would see an intruder come or go back here. But how would he maneuver the steep ridge and the stream? Had she overestimated the strength of that natural barrier?
“There really is not much blood,” she continued. “Unless there’s a lot more in the bathroom. Perhaps there’s not a body simply because the victim left on her own.”
She heard Manx snort. “You think they had a nice little lunch, he beat the shit out of her because she decided not to fuck him, but then she left willingly with this guy? And in the meantime, the whole goddamn neighborhood didn’t notice?” Manx laughed.
Maggie ignored his sarcasm. “I didn’t say she left willingly. Also, this blood is much too congealed and dry to have happened a few hours ago during lunch. I’m guessing it happened early this morning. She glanced at the medical examiner for confirmation.
“She’s right about that.” He nodded in agreement.
“I don’t think they had lunch together. He probably fixed the sandwich for himself. You should bag the sandwich. If you can’t get a dental imprint, there may be some saliva for a DNA test.”
When she
“The blood seems to be confined to this room,” the medical examiner told her.
Maggie noticed he was the only one wearing latex gloves.
“If someone ran out, but was injured, you’d think there’d be some drips, some scuffs, something. But the house is fucking clean enough to eat off the floors.” Manx swiped at his new hairdo again.
“The kitchen’s not so clean,” Maggie contradicted him.
He scowled at her. “How goddamn long have you been sneaking around here?”
She ignored him and kneeled down to get a closer look at the blood on the floor. Most of it was congealed, some dried. She guessed it had been here since morning.
“Maybe she didn’t have time to clean up after lunch,” Manx continued instead of waiting for her to answer his question.
“How do you know the victim is a woman?”
“A neighbor called us when she couldn’t get her on the phone. Said they were supposed to go shopping. She saw the car in the garage, but no one answered the door. See, I’m thinking the guy—whoever he was—must have interrupted her lunch.”
“What makes you think the sandwich was hers?”
The three of them stopped simultaneously. Again, they exchanged looks, then stared at Maggie, like foreign diplomats relying on each other for interpretation.
“What the hell are you saying, O’Donnell?”
“The name is O’Dell, Detective Manx.” She let him hear her irritation this time. His blatant disregard was a small but familiar and annoying way to discredit her. “The victim’s house is impeccable. She wouldn’t have left a mess like that, let alone sit down to eat before she cleaned it up.”
“Maybe she was interrupted.”
“Perhaps. But there’s no sign of a struggle in the kitchen. And the alarm system was off, right?”
Manx looked annoyed that she had guessed correctly. “Yeah, it was off, so maybe it was someone she knew.”
“That’s possible.” Maggie stood and let her eyes take in the rest of the room. “If he did interrupt or surprise her, that didn’t happen until they were up here. She may have been waiting for him, or perhaps she invited him up. That’s probably why there’s no signs of a struggle until we get into the bedroom. She may have changed her mind. Didn’t want to go through with whatever they had agreed to. This spatter pattern here on the door is strange.” She pointed to it, careful not to touch. “It’s so far down, one of them would need to be on the floor when this wound was inflicted.”
She walked to the window, feeling the men’s eyes follow her. Suddenly she had their attention. Through the sheer curtains she could see the backyard, similar to her own, spacious and secluded by flowering dogwoods and huge pines. None of the neighbors’ houses were even visible, all hidden by the foliage and trees. No one would see an intruder come or go back here. But how would he maneuver the steep ridge and the stream? Had she overestimated the strength of that natural barrier?
“There really is not much blood,” she continued. “Unless there’s a lot more in the bathroom. Perhaps there’s not a body simply because the victim left on her own.”
She heard Manx snort. “You think they had a nice little lunch, he beat the shit out of her because she decided not to fuck him, but then she left willingly with this guy? And in the meantime, the whole goddamn neighborhood didn’t notice?” Manx laughed.
Maggie ignored his sarcasm. “I didn’t say she left willingly. Also, this blood is much too congealed and dry to have happened a few hours ago during lunch. I’m guessing it happened early this morning. She glanced at the medical examiner for confirmation.
“She’s right about that.” He nodded in agreement.
“I don’t think they had lunch together. He probably fixed the sandwich for himself. You should bag the sandwich. If you can’t get a dental imprint, there may be some saliva for a DNA test.”
When she
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