The latch clicked, and the door swung open.Kate straightened and led Marcus into the home.The door led into a dining room sporting a long table with twelve richly upholstered chairs surrounding it.
Sure enough, an officer inside said, “I heard something, back door.”
“FBI,” Kate called back.“We’re here to examine the crime scene.”
Two frowning police officers and one glowering detective poked their head around the corner.The detective snapped, “What the hell are you two doing?”
“Avoiding the circus,” Marcus said.“We’d rather get some work done than contribute to some asshole’s Pulitzer.”
“And you didn’t think calling ahead would be a good idea?”
“We didn’t want to risk being overheard,” Marcus explained.
The detective continued to glower at them.“The press is going to figure out you’re here anyway.”
“And the longer we can delay that, the better,” Kate replied.
The detective scoffed but his anger was waning.No doubt the grizzled veteran understood how frustrating the press could be.“Well, come on in,” he said.“Got a nice one for you.”He turned around and called ahead, “Hey, Miller, make sure the windows and blinds are all closed.Got some shy feds want to peak around without the vultures noticing.”
“They’re all shut, boss,” a voice—Miller, presumably—called back.
They entered the living room, an expansive space with a vaulted ceiling, and a floor two steps lower than the rest of the house.The room was occupied by a massive leather sectional and a hand-carved coffee table made from a very dark wood that Kate didn’t recognize.A crystal chandelier hung from the vaulted ceiling, sporting over fifty lights.The light sparkled and gleamed across the living room, casting colorful shadows like stained glass.
Hanging from the center of that chandelier, held in place by three strings so that the blade pointed through the living room window, was a gleaming silver letter opener.Kate regarded that letter opener while Marcus approached the only living person in the room who wasn’t a member of law enforcement.
“Are you serious, guys?”he scolded.“Why’s she in the room?”
He led the girl away before the chagrined police could respond.
The weeping young woman wore a fitted navy pantsuit and gleaming black heels.Her hair was done in waves and was almost iridescent under the light.Her makeup was modest and not expertly applied.Much of it ran down her cheeks as she wept, glancing at the body on the floor and shivering as Marcus led her to the dining room.
“Ms.Lowe’s assistant,” the detective—whose name badge identified him as Slocum—replied.“She called it in.”
Kate nodded and pulled her attention away from the letter opener and got her first good look at Patricia Lowe.
She looked to be in her sixties, which matched the age on her online profile.Her hair was white, but it appeared dyed that way.The roots were a coppery gray.Her eyes were bloodshot and bulging, a side effect of the strangulation, but in life, they had been a striking copper color.She wore a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, both a size too large for her.Apparently, Cox had caught her right when she got out of bed.
“CSI just looked it over,” Slocum informed her.“They didn’t move anything, but they checked for prints and fibers.Killer used black latex gloves, which I guess is true of the other scenes too.Manual strangulation, and it had to happen quick because there aren’t any defensive wounds.”
Kate nodded again and took pictures of the scene, careful to get several perspectives of the letter opener.
“Killer used the kitchen stepladder to climb high enough to hang the letter opener.Opened the curtains too.Got really lucky that he wasn’t seen by the neighbors.”
Miller chimed in, “Time of death was before dawn.”
“He changed his appearance too,” Kate replied.“He knows we’re looking for him.”
“Ah.Right.”
She finished taking pictures, then joined Marcus and the assistant in the dining room.The young woman was still crying but was able to talk now that she wasn’t forced to stare at the dead body of her boss anymore.
“I don’t understand who would do this to her.She wasn’t active in politics anymore.I mean… she tried to be, but she wasn’t popular.She wasn’t a threat to anyone.”
Marcus sat on the chair next to her, empathy etched on his features.“I’m so sorry for your loss, Martha.”
Martha sniffed.“I just wish she’d quit.You know?Like… just let it go, Grandma.”
Ah.Not just an assistant but a granddaughter.That explained the grief."Can you tell us how you discovered her?"
