3. Ozzie
CHAPTER 3
Ozzie
M urder wasn’t the first case I expected to have once Chief Riggs let me off my chain and out into the world by myself. But here I was, pulling up to a fresh murder scene.
Blowing out a breath, I shut my cruiser off and got out, walking up to the first officer I saw.
“Garnett.”
The twenty-year veteran turned. When he saw me, one eyebrow rose. “Chief sent the newbie by himself?”
One side of my mouth slid up. “Yep. He cut the apron strings.” My expression sobered. “What do we have?”
“Nastiness. I don’t like this one.”
I studied the older man as I digested that. “Murder is never good. What makes this one worse?”
Sergeant Garnett tipped his head toward the house. “Come on. I’ll show you.”
Curious now, I followed him toward the front door. My gaze caught on the blonde woman sitting on the porch steps. “Who’s that?”
“Claire Holmes. She found the body—she and her colleague, there.” He nodded to the box truck in the driveway.
“They know to stay put until I talk to them, yes?”
Garnett’s head bobbed. “Yep. I posted Turner out here too. He’s directing traffic and keeping an eye on them. They can’t get out, anyway. He blocked their vehicles in.” His gaze flicked to the navy-blue Land Rover in the driveway.
My eyebrows winged upward. That was a nice car. Especially for this area. “What do we know about her?”
“She’s a real estate agent.”
“This house is for sale?” I didn’t notice a sign in the yard when I drove up.
“Not yet. But that’s why she and her colleague are here. The deceased is one of the homeowners.”
“Got it.”
We approached the porch. I expected Ms. Holmes to look up, but she kept staring out at the yard, her expression blank. Shock, it seemed, had set in.
Passing her, we went inside. After donning shoe covers, Garnett led me upstairs to the master bedroom, where the crime scene unit was busy processing the scene.
Grant Iverson glanced up from his position on the far side of the bed. “Hey.”
I gave him a nod of acknowledgement. “Is it okay to come through?” I motioned to where he crouched.
“Yeah. Just watch your footing. There’s quite a bit of blood back here.”
Rounding the bed, I stopped near the end. A woman lay face down on the beige carpet, her head turned so she stared under the bed. Her deep red skirt and jacket blended in with the pool of blood spread out around her. One black heel hung off her foot, hooked only by her toes. The other was on the floor beside her legs.
“What do we know about her? Garnett said she’s one of the homeowners.”
“Her name is Marie Hammond. She’s forty-one. Married,” Grant answered. “One of my techs found her purse. She’s a teacher at Parker’s Landing Academy. That’s all we’ve got so far. No kids, as far as we can tell.”
I reached into the cargo pocket on my pants and produced a small spiral notebook, then grabbed the pen I kept clipped to my collar and jotted that down. “What about cause of death? Do you have any ideas about that yet? Other than exsanguination?” I gestured to the copious amount of blood staining the carpet.
“No. We were just getting ready to roll her.” Grant looked up at his colleague, Maya Gossard. “You ready?”
She nodded and picked up a thick plastic sheet, holding out one end to him. Grant took it, and they unfolded it, spreading it on the floor beside Mrs. Hammond.
“Okay. On three.” Grant wrapped gloved hands around the woman’s ankles. Maya put a hand under her right arm. “One… two… three.” Together, they rolled Mrs. Hammond onto her back onto the plastic sheet.
I tipped my head, studying the front of her body. “I don’t see any burn marks. And those don’t really look like bullet holes.”
Grant picked up his camera and snapped several photos. “I agree. They look like stab wounds.” He took several more pictures from different angles and with a ruler.
Finally, he was ready to open her jacket. It was unbuttoned, but blood had made it sticky. Carefully, Maya folded the fabric back while Grant took more pictures. The slashes through her blouse were much more evident than those through the jacket.
“She was definitely stabbed.” Grant glanced back. “The medical examiner’s office will be able to tell you more once they conduct her autopsy.”
Mouth flat, I nodded once. “Has anyone contacted her husband?”
Garnett smirked. “That’s your job.”
I rolled my eyes. “Gee, thanks.”
“Welcome.”
“Before I go making phone calls, are we sure he’s not somewhere on the property, also deceased?” If it was a home invasion gone wrong, that was a distinct possibility.
“We checked when we arrived,” Garnett said. “No sign of him. There’s only one vehicle in the garage, but from the discoloration on the concrete, I would say there’s normally two.”
“Okay. I’ll see about tracking him down, then.”
The radio on my belt crackled to life.
“PL-one-ten for PL-two-twelve, over.”
Unclipping it, I answered. “PL-one-ten, PL-two-twelve. Go ahead, over.”
“I’ve got the RP out here with some information you should know, over.”
It sounded like the realtor’s shock might have worn off. “Copy that. I’ll be out shortly. PL-two-twelve out.”
I turned to Garnett. “Let’s find some contact info for the husband, then I’ll talk to Ms. Holmes.”