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?She studied the room. “They took the handcuffs and the sheets.” She withdrew a magnifying glass from her purse.
?“Something else you learned with the Girl Scouts?” I suggested.
?“Actually, I got this from the Boy Scouts. Always be prepared,” she clarified as she traced her way along the brass tubes that formed the headboard. “Ah, here is where the handcuffs were attached.”
?“Scratches?”
?“Very good, Watkins,” Sheryl praised. “One end of the metal handcuffs were fastened to the tube and the other around Randall’s wrist.”
?She stood up and went around the bed to examine the other side, then made a few more quick notations.
?“But the question is, Homes,” I interjected, getting into the spirit of it, “was the victim a willing participant or was he coerced by force into bondage?”
?“Excellent, Watkins,” Sheryl considered, and I could tell she relished taking on the role of the master detective. “He would struggle once the pillow stopped his breath, which would increase the number of scratches on the brass.”
?“Detective DeStadler suggested that I imprisoned him at gunpoint,” I disclosed. “If the scene was staged, perhaps someone did so.”
?“Perhaps.” Sheryl moved her examination to the foot of the bed and the tubes there. “Examine the room for anything out of place.”
?“I’ve never been here before. How would I know if anything were out of place?”
?“Hmm, good point, Watkins.”
?“I think I liked Mark better,” I said sullenly. This “Holmes-Watson” thing wasn’t as much fun as I thought.
?“Come on, play along. It helps me think,” Sheryl encouraged as she looked at the table near the bed. “Is this where the detectives said the pipe was found?”
?“Next to the laptop,” I said and gazed around the room. “But I don’t see a laptop.”
?“It was here.” Sheryl pointed to the table. “See the dust in a rectangular pattern? This was where he kept it.”
?“The dust is smeared a bit. I imagine from when the police removed it.”
?Sheryl knelt on the floor and picked up something.
?“What’s that?” I said, and she held up a small screw on her finger. “A screw? To what?”
?“Good question. It would appear to be a screw from a computer. Considering its placement—”
?“It seems odd that the police would take the computer apart here.”
?She pondered this. “Agreed. It makes much more sense that they would have the Crime Scene Unit examine it in the lab.” She made a quick entry on her memo pad.
?“Well, Homes, I’m sure that the unit tagged and bagged anything suspicious.”
?“Perhaps not everything,” Sheryl said, as something caught her eye. She crouched down on one knee at the foot of the bed, took the ruffled bed skirt in her hand, and gave it a shake.
?There was the sound of something metallic as it struck the floor.
?She held up a small metal tube in her gloved hand.
?“Is that a bullet casing?” I questioned.
?She handed it to me, then pulled at the bed to move it away from the wall.
?“Aha! Look at this, Watkins!”
?She pointed, and I drew near. There was a small hole in the wall, unseen in
