Booked for Murder

by C. M. Sutter

  I had to agree with Frank’s assessment because it made the most sense. I scanned the library then approached the body.

  “Looking for something in particular?” Don asked.

  “Blood. If there was a perp and they clocked the missus over the head with something to knock her out, she would have bled, and if there’s a wound on the back of her head, then that means she was definitely hit from behind.”

  Don turned toward the body. “I’d have to move the books and lift her head to know for sure. Danny, are you done taking pictures?”

  “Yeah, go ahead and move the books away. As soon as you reach her head, I’ll snap some more before you move her.”

  Frank and I watched from several feet back as Don removed books from the area around Mrs. Barstow’s upper body. Once the space was cleared, we saw that blood had pooled beneath her and soaked into the rug. Don knelt and gingerly lifted her head after Danny snapped a half dozen more pictures.

  He nodded. “There’s a significant gash on the back of her head that could have disabled her long enough to inject the drug into her arm. The tipped bookcase may have come right after that unless the perp wanted to watch her suffer the effects of an overdose first. If that’s the case, and it’s heroin, then it would have only taken another ten to fifteen minutes before the drug took effect. The perp might have enjoyed watching for a bit before tipping the bookcase as the coup de grâce.”

  “Then there should be a heavy object nearby that has blood evidence and possibly fingerprints on it.”

  Frank groaned. “Unless the killer took it with him.”

  “Either way, we need to find something that would do the job—a heavy vase, a statue, a fireplace poker, that sort of thing. Let’s start looking around.”

  Frank, Mike, Danny, and I began checking every object that could fit in someone’s hand and be used as a weapon. Chances were, we would have to search the entire house since the perp could have placed the weapon in a different room to throw us off.

  Seconds after we started, the front door opened, and three officers walked in. Lutz had sent the helpers we needed to conduct knock and talks. Since I was the second in charge and Lutz wasn’t present, I took over.

  “I need you guys to start canvassing the neighborhood on both sides of the street for any house that has a doorbell camera or an obvious mounted camera. The perp might have parked a block away and walked in for all we know. I have no idea who we’re looking for, but watch for cars driving slower than normal or a person walking toward this house. We need something, and we need it yesterday. Any questions?”

  Foxworthy spoke for the group. “Nope, and we’ll check in with you every half hour, Detective McCord.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  We continued our search of the library but found nothing that had a spec of blood, hair, or skin tissue on it.

  I yelled out for Hendricks to bring Isabel to me. Seconds later, they both entered the library. “Isabel, you know where everything belongs in this house, correct?”

  “Yes, sir, since I do all the dusting.”

  “Okay, then I’m going to need your help. I hate to bring you back into the library, but you would know if something was missing from the room, correct?”

  “I would think so, sir.”

  “Okay, then check shelves and every flat surface. We’re looking for something that was heavy and could have been used as a weapon to hit Mrs. Barstow over the head with.” I gave her a nod to begin. “Just call out if something seems to be missing.”

  Chapter 40

  I watched Isabel as she searched the room and did her best to focus on the task at hand and avoid looking at Mrs. Barstow’s body. I whispered to Mike when Isabel was on the far side of the room. “Got anything to cover the deceased with for the time being?”

  “Yeah, sure, I’ll get a sheet from the van.”

  “Appreciate it, man.”

  Moments later, Isabel called out. “Detective McCord, I know what’s missing.”

  I crossed the room to an ornate cabinet that stood against the wall near the entry into the library.

  Isabel pointed at the top surface. “There was a marble Venus statue that sat on top of this cabinet, but now it’s gone.” She indicated its size with her hands. “It’s about a foot tall and heavy.”

  “That has to be it, then. Can you search the house and let me know as soon as you find it, if you do? Don’t touch it, though. Just come get me.”

  “Yes, I can do that.”

  Isabel walked out, and I turned to Don. “What do you need us to do?”

  He scratched his forehead as he looked around. “Clear a path, I guess, so we can get the gurney in here.”

  I double-checked with Mike to be sure he and Danny had completed everything they needed to do around the body, and he confirmed that they had.

  “Okay, Mills, you and I need to clear a path so Don can get the deceased into the van.”

  Stacking books several feet from the body, we had a path cleared within ten minutes. Isabel called out, and the sound of footsteps got closer. She peeked into the library.

  “Detective McCord, I found the marble statue in the living room.”

  Frank and I followed her to a large paneled room that had a massive fireplace built into the right wall. The mantel was decorated with photographs, and among the framed pictures stood the statue.

  “Hiding in plain sight,” I said as we approached. “We need Danny in here with his camera and an evidence bag before we touch anything.”

  Frank left, and while I waited for him to return, I thanked Isabel for doing such a fine job in helping us. Moments later, Mike, Danny, and Frank entered the living room.

  “Over here on the mantel,” I said. “The marble statue doesn’t belong there according to Isabel.”

  Danny took several pictures before Mike carefully lifted the statue by its head and gave it a good once-over. Because the base was large and the heaviest part of the statue, it was likely what Mrs. Barstow was hit with.

  “Look here.” Mike jerked his chin at the dried blood and hair that remained on the corner of the statue’s square base. “Looks like Isabel found our murder weapon.” He turned to Danny. “Take some pictures of that corner before we bag and tag it.”

  I stepped away from the group to make an update call to Lutz. “Hey, Boss. Don called it right. We definitely have a murder on our hands.” I heard cursing through the phone line, which was the typical response from our commander when bad news continued to pile up.

  “What do you know as fact?”

  “We have a stay-at-home wife who possibly let someone in to interview for a personal assistant position. There were no signs of forced entry, and the alarm system didn’t trigger an alert to the police department of a break-in. The maid just found the weapon used to subdue Mrs. Barstow long enough to inject the drug into her vein and then tip the bookcase over on her.”

  “Does Don know definitively if the cause of death was the crack on the head, the drug, or the bookcase crushing the woman?”

  “I guess not, but he’ll be able to determine that once she’s on the table.”

  “Okay, and his estimated TOD?”

  I let out a long puff of air. “His best field guess is yesterday afternoon sometime. The maid wasn’t working yesterday but does have an alibi that we’ll check out. We haven’t yet contacted the husband, who is out of town for work, but the wife’s phone should show his number.”

  “Then contact him and question the maid about her opinion of their relationship. We know too well that a spouse doesn’t have to be present to orchestrate a murder.”

  “Roger that, and Foxworthy should be checking in soon with news about the neighborhood cameras or witness accounts of any suspicious activity somebody might have noticed yesterday.”

  “Keep me posted.”

  I hung up and asked Isabel to join me in the kitchen again. Mike had begun fingerprinting the living room’s mantel, and I didn’t want to disrupt his work.
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  “Isabel, I need to ask you about Mr. and Mrs. Barstow’s relationship. How did they get along?”

  She frowned before answering. “I’m an employee, not a friend. My job is to remain in the background yet available whenever someone snaps their fingers.”

  I smiled. “I understand, but you must have overheard conversations or saw how they interacted with one another during your seven years of employment.”

  She avoided eye contact with me.

  “Isabel? Whatever you tell me is in confidence and won’t get back to Mr. Barstow if you’re worried about your job.”

  “They did argue but mostly because he was gone so much, yet it was his income that allowed Mrs. Barstow to have the lifestyle she loved.” Isabel glanced from left to right. “I believe they both stepped out on their marriage from time to time.”

  “Do you know that as fact?”

  “I’ve overheard phone conversations, but that’s all. Mrs. Barstow could do anything she wanted on the days I had off, and she often left the house for hours on end, even when I was working. Mr. Barstow is gone so much and has the freedom to do anything he likes without Mrs. Barstow finding out. He is a man after all.” Her voice dropped to just above a whisper. “And men have needs.”

  I had my work cut out for me, and my thoughts were going every which way. There was the chance that the husband did have his wife killed, yet I still had a nagging feeling that the murder could be related to our current case. I thanked Isabel and told her she should go home. Homicide would secure the house, and our forensic team had hours of work ahead. Nobody other than the police department would be allowed in or out.

  “What about my job, Detective McCord?”

  “I’m sorry, Isabel, but that’ll be something you need to discuss with Mr. Barstow. But before you leave, do you know where Mrs. Barstow kept her cell phone or purse?”

  Isabel frowned. “She always kept her phone within reach.”

  “We haven’t found it. Could it be in her purse?”

  “Maybe, and that’s in the front closet. Right this way.”

  I followed Isabel to the front of the house, and to the left of the entry door was the coat closet. “In here?”

  “That’s where she always kept it when she was home.”

  I opened the closet, and inside, a black leather purse was draped over a wooden hanger. “Is this the purse she used?”

  “Yes, that’s it.”

  I unzipped the purse and found her wallet, a checkbook, and several pens but no cell phone. “Do you know her number by heart so I can try calling it? It might be under the bookcase.”

  Isabel recited the number while I tapped the keys on my phone. I perked my ears as we walked toward the library, but I heard nothing. No ringing phone was coming from any room in the house. “Okay, thanks, Isabel. Do you know the husband’s number?”

  “Sorry, but I don’t have it memorized.”

  “All right, we’ll track it down. Mrs. Barstow’s phone may be dead, but we’ll keep looking for it.” I escorted Isabel to the door and watched as she took the sidewalk to her car, climbed in, and drove away. I retraced my steps to the library. “Don, does the missus have a cell phone in her pocket?”

  “Nope, I’ve already checked all her pockets—they’re empty.”

  “Okay.” I turned to Frank. “We need to find her phone and the phone number for the husband.” I looked around. “The most likely spot would be in here or the kitchen.”

  “Then let’s get started.”

  I continued with the library, and Frank headed to the kitchen. Searching every desk drawer again, this time, I looked not only for the phone but also for a list of numbers or a possible address book too. The bottom drawer on the right contained file folders, and I pulled out one that had Bills written on the tab. I was sure to find the cell phone bills in that folder, and I did. I was relieved to finally have something turn up without a lot of searching. After placing the folder on the desk, I opened it to find a phone bill for a family plan with both numbers shown. I recognized the one that Isabel said belonged to Renee, so the other had to be the husband’s. I entered the number on my phone, hit Send, and waited as it rang. I tipped my wrist and glanced at my watch—10:22. There wasn’t anywhere in the world—short of the South Pacific—that would warrant him being asleep at that moment. The call went to voicemail, and I left my name and number. I would try again in an hour.

  I dialed Frank’s phone. “Hey, I found the husband’s number, but he doesn’t answer the call. I left a message, and I’ll try again in a bit.”

  “Okay. I haven’t located a phone yet, and I’ve gone through all the cabinets, although there is a charger plugged into the wall.”

  I rubbed my chin. “Interesting. I wonder if the perp took the phone with him.”

  “Meaning there might have been a conversation between Renee and him before he showed up.”

  I had to agree with Frank’s logic, but the perp could have easily deleted his number, the call log and texts between them, then left the phone behind. I assumed he wanted it to be difficult for us to track him down and took the phone along for that reason. No matter what, we would get a warrant for Mrs. Barstow’s call logs, and I’d suggest that to Lutz as soon as we returned to the station.

  At the sound of the front door opening, I looked up from the desk. Foxworthy and the other two officers were back. I crossed the library and met them in the foyer. Don and Mark were loading the deceased onto the gurney, and I didn’t want the officers to be in their way.

  “Let’s go into the kitchen to talk, guys,” I said. “They’ll be wheeling the gurney through this spot any minute.”

  We took seats at the large trestle-style table that fit perfectly in the eat-in-kitchen nook. Frank shook his head and joined us.

  “I can’t find a phone anywhere, Jesse.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure the perp took it with him—most do.” I faced Foxworthy. “Okay, what did you guys come up with?”

  He let out a sigh. “Not a lot. There were two houses on this block that have doorbell cameras where people were home. Another three where nobody answered.”

  “That’s not bad. Five doorbell cameras? We can get back to the other houses later. What about the ones you did check?”

  Crawford spoke up. “Nobody passed by on foot yesterday afternoon at the house whose doorbell camera footage I reviewed.”

  “Any slow-moving cars?”

  “Nothing unusual, sir.”

  “Foxworthy, what did you see on the footage you looked at?”

  “One person walked by at two fifty on the opposite side of the street. The camera only caught them passing a few houses, and since it was near the end of the block, this house didn’t come into view.”

  “How about a description of the person?”

  “They appeared tall, although I didn’t have anything to gauge that by except the fire hydrant they passed. The person wore dark slacks, a dark knee-length coat, and a stocking cap.”

  I frowned. “Male or female?”

  “Honestly, Jesse, I couldn’t tell. It could have been either one. Those doorbell cameras can identify people well enough on a porch, but they aren’t going to catch distinguishing features from a distance. That’s especially true when someone is sixty feet away, walking sideways to the camera, and bundled up because of the cold weather.”

  “But the person was headed in this direction, right?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “Okay, where were the other doorbell cameras located?”

  Otis took his turn. “One is across the street and a house away from this one. Another is three houses east on this side of the street, and the last was at the opposite end of the block, also on this side of the street.”

  “So the one across the street and one house away is our best bet?”

  “I’d say so.”

  “Good. Find out who lives there, ask every neighbor who’s home, and get a phone number. We need to see that footage as soon as possi
ble.”

  Foxworthy spoke up as they rose from the table. “We’re on it, Jesse.”

  Now it was a waiting game. Don and Mark had just left with the body, Mike and Danny were processing the house, and in a few minutes, I would try the husband’s phone again. Meanwhile, Frank and I would check the upstairs, and since nothing there had been photographed or printed yet, we could only observe but not touch.

  Chapter 41

  “Let’s check the master bedroom first and see if anything looks off.”

  We entered the spacious suite and saw that the bed was made and the room was clean and orderly. Nothing appeared out of place or disrupted. Still gloved, we pulled out dresser drawers only to peek inside then close them again. On my hands and knees, I checked under the bed and shook my head.

  “Everything seems normal to me.”

  Frank turned the doorknob. “I’ll check the closet, and then we can move on to the other rooms.”

  A half hour later, our hands-off search of the upstairs proved one thing—the carnage was isolated to the library, and other than placing the statue on the living room’s mantel, the assailant probably hadn’t stepped foot in any other room. That in itself was a clue—the perp was there to have a meeting with Mrs. Barstow, and she’d led him directly to the library, which also served as her office. The perp had likely arrived under the pretense of interviewing for that personal assistant position, and she led him to the desk for his interview. That was the most logical explanation, and somehow he was able to catch her off guard and whack her over the head. We needed to speak with Renee’s friends and inner circle to see if she’d mentioned having an interview yesterday, and we needed to investigate her social media posts to see what she’d written in the last few days.

  “Something weighing on your mind?”

  I turned to see Mike standing behind me, then I tipped my head toward the desk.

  “Wondering why the perp didn’t snatch that up. He obviously took her phone, yet the laptop—which probably contains a treasure trove of information—was left behind.”