“Only if your dick smiles, Detective,” Murkowsky replied good-naturedly.
“Can we get back to the evidence please?” the captain asked. “I don’t even want to know why Adrian wants to know the best side to photograph his dick.”
“Sorry, sir,” Adrian said. “I apologize, Officer Murkowsky.”
“I’m not offended, Adrian.”
“Let’s take a look at the newspaper,” I told Adrian. “It was getting dark in the alleyway so I couldn’t be sure, but the parts of the newspaper not covered in blood looked brownish from age.”
I carefully straightened out the wrinkled paper with gloved hands while Adrian had the camera ready to photograph any clues. The paper was stiff to work with since it had been saturated with blood. There was also a lot of hair and flesh stuck to the paper from where it transferred off the bust. I finally spread the paper on the sterile surface and saw that it was even older than I thought. It was an article dated May 1, 1850.
“Anthony Bliss, railroad magnate and Blissville founder disappeared on the morning of April 30, 1850,” I read out loud. “Was it premeditated or was Mr. Bliss a victim of foul play or his family curse?”
“Can you imagine the headings today?” Adrian asked. “Alien abduction would certainly be included.”
“I can’t help but wonder what the hell happened to him,” I replied. “I wonder if the man kept journals or anything. As creepy as that cellar is, I’m pretty sure I have to go back and do some digging. Now that you’re back…”
“I’m suddenly not feeling that good. Must’ve been something I ate. Wen, will help you out.”
“Thanks a lot,” Wen replied dryly.
“Adrian loves dark, dank cellars,” the captain teased. “That last murder we had in Blissville required us to dig around through one.”
“The captain’s house,” Adrian said.
“Someone was murdered in your cellar?” I asked the captain. “Internal Affairs must love you.”
His lips tipped up into a quirky, half-smile. “It wasn’t my house at the time.”
“You bought a house where a homicide was committed though?” I asked. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
“Married the prime suspect too,” Adrian added.
“Josh?” I asked in shock.
“It’s a long story,” the captain said to me before turning to his former partner. “No one believed Josh killed Georgia Beaumont.”
“I’ll tell you all about it over dinner, partner,” Adrian said cheerfully.
As much as I wanted to hear the story, I had someplace I wanted to be more that night. “I have plans tonight, but perhaps you can tell me all about it while we dig through boxes looking for journals or some other type of evidence.”
“Fine,” Adrian reluctantly agreed.
Officer Murkowsky’s computer program beeped, interrupting me before I could answer. “Aha! It’s a one hundred percent match to Anthony Bliss.” We looked over her shoulder at the side-by-side comparisons. “See these circles on the bridge of his nose, his eyebrows, and his chin?”
“Yeah,” we all answered.
“It’s a tool that points out the different angles in the profiles. Green circles mean that the angles match and red means they’re different.” In every instance, the bust was a positive match to the documented photos of Anthony Bliss.
“That’s great work, Murkowsky,” the captain said.
“Thank you, sir. There’s not much else we can do with the evidence, so I’ll bag it and send it to Columbus. I didn’t see any obvious fingerprints in the blood on the bust, but that doesn’t mean they’re not there. Hopefully we can get a DNA match for Thom from either the blood, hair, or tissue transferred to the statue or paper. I don’t know how long it was exposed to the elements though.”
“Approximately thirty minutes,” I told her. “That’s the time lapse between the employees leaving Books and Brew and Maegan leaving Curious Things.”
“Are there any clues, confessions, or anything that will help us solve this case in the newspaper? Any circled letters that spell our next clue out?” Adrian asked hopefully.
“Nothing that I can tell, but the blood has smeared most of the ink. I can’t read much beyond the headline. I have a feeling the bust was deliberately placed that way.”
