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“It’s funny how things can appear to be one thing and then turn intosomething else,” replied Decker. “So maybe we can help.”
“Decker,” said Jamison in an offended tone. “We’re on vacation. We’re here to get away from all that stuff.”
“Maybe you are,” said Decker. “But I had no reason to get away from ‘all that stuff.’”
“Not my call,” said Curry. “You can take it up with homicide.”
“Fair enough,” said Decker.
Curryclosed his notebook. “But since you’re here now, you got any thoughts on the matter?”
Decker glanced back at the house. “Hanging someone is personal. It’s a control thing. It’s a terrible way to die because that guy simply strangled to death, or maybe his vertebrae finally popped. Either way, it takes a while.”
“And the blood?” asked Curry.
“Where did it come from?If he bled out somewhere else and the blood was collected and brought here and spread out on the floor, what was the point?”
“And the guy in the basement?” asked Curry.
“Is he a cop or not? If not, why was he in uniform? And again, how did he die? I didn’t see an obvious wound, but there was some foam on the mouth, so it might be poison. And another thing. Who owns this house?Was it the two men? Or somebody else?”
Curry had reopened his notebook and was jotting things down. “Anything else?”
“Yeah. I think your ME might have a tricky time determining the time of death.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because what I saw tonight was pretty much forensically impossible.”
