murdered?”
“Can I confirm that?”
“Yes, can you confirm that?”
“Don’t you read the
Westmuir Record?
”
“I do, but you said—”
“Yes,” said Hazel Micallef. “She was murdered.” She turned, ignoring the three other hands in the air, and went through the door. PC Bail was waiting with a thin sheaf of photocopies in her hand. “They’re all ready for you, Eileen. Positively rabid with anticipation.”
“Thanks, Chief.”
“Anytime.”
“Um, Skip?” Hazel stopped and faced her. “They’re just doing their jobs, you know.”
“They’re cannibals in slacks, Eileen. Ask my mother about it sometime.” PC Bail looked down at the floor. “Anything else?”
“Not right now.”
Hazel turned a sheet over the top of the easel. Ray Greene, James Wingate, and Howard Spere were sitting with their coffees at the table in front of her. “We’re going to go over what we know and then figure out what our best move is. Ray, you start.”
Greene opened his notebook and flipped back a couple of pages. “We have two bodies. One here in Port Dundas, the other in Chamberlain, three hundred and fifteen kilometers away. The first, Delia Chandler, was murdered sometime after four o’clock on Friday, November 12. White female aged eighty-one. She was heavily sedated, murdered, and then partially drained of blood. After she was dead, the killer cut her throat. According to Dr. Deacon’s report, her mouth was interfered with postmortem. She also had a broken finger.”
“DC Wingate has a theory about that,” said Hazel, who had been writing the details down hurriedly on the easel, “which, for the time being, he is going to keep to himself.” Wingate smiled in a pained fashion. “Forensics, Howard?”
“We found fingerprints on the door that belong to the victim, as well as to Bob Chandler. We have to presume that the killer wore gloves because there are no fingerprints inside the house that don’t match the victim or her son. There was a scuff in the carpet inside the door with a partial impression of a shoeprint in it, and it suggests the killer is a size eleven, but it’s inconclusive. No forced entry, as has been previously established. No struggle is evident—”
“Although let’s keep in mind that the place was spotless,” said Hazel. “Either Delia cleaned it top to bottom before her visitor arrived, or the killer himself cleaned up. Jack Deacon says he would have had to be in the house a minimum of three hours after her death. If there was a struggle, there would have been plenty of time to erase all evidence of it.”
“Okay,” said Detective Spere, “so maybe there was a struggle, but I think Jack would have been able to back it up with defensive wounds on the victim’s body, so for now, we’re going to go with no struggle, and I think we’ll find the Ulmer murder backs that up.”
“No it doesn’t,” said Greene.
“Can we finish with Mrs. Chandler before we move on?” said Hazel, and Greene gestured to her to carry on.
“Okay,” said Hazel, taking out Jack Deacon’s report. “The timeframe of the murder, according to Jack, is that a heavily sedating agent is introduced to the victim at around four o’clock in the afternoon and takes effect shortly afterward. Between four and five, the killer breaks the victim’s finger and then introduces a trace amount of amatoxin, this being the agent that causes death. Then he puts a wide-bore needle into the victim’s femoral artery and
sucks
most of the blood out of her body, either by using a large syringe or pump of some kind.”
“They have pumps for that?” said Greene.
Hazel ignored him. “Deacon puts death at five in the afternoon according to the potassium levels in the victim’s vitreous humor. He had three hours after that to cut her head nearly off, clean—if he cleaned—and to do what he did to her mouth.”
“What do you think that means?” asked Greene. “It could mean that it doesn’t
“Can I confirm that?”
“Yes, can you confirm that?”
“Don’t you read the
Westmuir Record?
”
“I do, but you said—”
“Yes,” said Hazel Micallef. “She was murdered.” She turned, ignoring the three other hands in the air, and went through the door. PC Bail was waiting with a thin sheaf of photocopies in her hand. “They’re all ready for you, Eileen. Positively rabid with anticipation.”
“Thanks, Chief.”
“Anytime.”
“Um, Skip?” Hazel stopped and faced her. “They’re just doing their jobs, you know.”
“They’re cannibals in slacks, Eileen. Ask my mother about it sometime.” PC Bail looked down at the floor. “Anything else?”
“Not right now.”
Hazel turned a sheet over the top of the easel. Ray Greene, James Wingate, and Howard Spere were sitting with their coffees at the table in front of her. “We’re going to go over what we know and then figure out what our best move is. Ray, you start.”
Greene opened his notebook and flipped back a couple of pages. “We have two bodies. One here in Port Dundas, the other in Chamberlain, three hundred and fifteen kilometers away. The first, Delia Chandler, was murdered sometime after four o’clock on Friday, November 12. White female aged eighty-one. She was heavily sedated, murdered, and then partially drained of blood. After she was dead, the killer cut her throat. According to Dr. Deacon’s report, her mouth was interfered with postmortem. She also had a broken finger.”
“DC Wingate has a theory about that,” said Hazel, who had been writing the details down hurriedly on the easel, “which, for the time being, he is going to keep to himself.” Wingate smiled in a pained fashion. “Forensics, Howard?”
“We found fingerprints on the door that belong to the victim, as well as to Bob Chandler. We have to presume that the killer wore gloves because there are no fingerprints inside the house that don’t match the victim or her son. There was a scuff in the carpet inside the door with a partial impression of a shoeprint in it, and it suggests the killer is a size eleven, but it’s inconclusive. No forced entry, as has been previously established. No struggle is evident—”
“Although let’s keep in mind that the place was spotless,” said Hazel. “Either Delia cleaned it top to bottom before her visitor arrived, or the killer himself cleaned up. Jack Deacon says he would have had to be in the house a minimum of three hours after her death. If there was a struggle, there would have been plenty of time to erase all evidence of it.”
“Okay,” said Detective Spere, “so maybe there was a struggle, but I think Jack would have been able to back it up with defensive wounds on the victim’s body, so for now, we’re going to go with no struggle, and I think we’ll find the Ulmer murder backs that up.”
“No it doesn’t,” said Greene.
“Can we finish with Mrs. Chandler before we move on?” said Hazel, and Greene gestured to her to carry on.
“Okay,” said Hazel, taking out Jack Deacon’s report. “The timeframe of the murder, according to Jack, is that a heavily sedating agent is introduced to the victim at around four o’clock in the afternoon and takes effect shortly afterward. Between four and five, the killer breaks the victim’s finger and then introduces a trace amount of amatoxin, this being the agent that causes death. Then he puts a wide-bore needle into the victim’s femoral artery and
sucks
most of the blood out of her body, either by using a large syringe or pump of some kind.”
“They have pumps for that?” said Greene.
Hazel ignored him. “Deacon puts death at five in the afternoon according to the potassium levels in the victim’s vitreous humor. He had three hours after that to cut her head nearly off, clean—if he cleaned—and to do what he did to her mouth.”
“What do you think that means?” asked Greene. “It could mean that it doesn’t
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