Page 3 of Diamonds in the Mud

“Yup. Go make yourself useful and play offensive lineman. Don’t let him inside,” I added when he narrowed his eyes at me. Then I nudged Owen towards the older man, who was storming up the drive with a very angry look on his face.

Stepping into the home again, I pulled out my cell phone and made the call to the chief of police myself. Instantly, I noticed the temperature change inside. The air must have been turned up high. How much did it cost to cool the massive place? Too much, I thought as the phone rang.

Chief Randy Cordova picked up on the second ring.

“Hey, sweetie.” Just hearing his voice made me smile.

“Hey,” I said, then I dropped the smile as I turned to the mess that used to be the mayor of the town. “I have a Code 187 at the Taylor residence.” I paused. “It’s Sharon.” I walked over and knelt beside what I assumed was her neck area and felt for a pulse. “DOA,” I added.

“Shit.” Randy sighed. “Have you secured the scene?”

“Yes,” I said just as Henry Taylor burst through the door, pushing Owen into what looked like an antique table, knocking over a massive vase that held more than two dozen long-stem white roses.

I closed my eyes at the sound of the loud crash as Randy screamed in my ear, “What was that?”

“I’ll call you back. Just get the crew out here.” I hung up the phone in time to catch Henry Taylor from throwing up and passing out all over his dead wife.

“Damn it, officer!” I screamed. “Get this man out of my crime scene.”

Owen jumped up and then stumbled forward, keeping his eyes far from the scene behind my shoulder as I pushed the now almost unconscious Henry Taylor into his arms.

“I swear to god, this is the last time I take you on a call,” I mumbled towards Owen.

“I’m good with that,” Owen shot back as he half pulled, half carried the man back out of the door.

Now there was water from the vase, flowers, and bits of broken vase all over my crime scene. Shit.

Turning around, I crushed one of the white flowers under my boot and sent a silent curse up to the heavens. What in the fuck did I do to deserve this?

Taking several calm breaths, I straightened my shoulders, pulled out my phone, and snapped a few photos of the scene before the spilled water could reach the body. Then I turned on the recording app on my phone and started taking notes. No detail was too small.

I pretty much had photographic memory, but the recordings helped to remind me of small details.

I noted the temperature of the home. The position of the body. What she was wearing. The fact that the front door hadn’t been locked or shut all the way.

I glanced around and rattled off a few key notes about items found near her, such as rugs, furniture, and a slipper that had fallen off her foot and was lying almost two feet away.

Then I knelt next to the body and started listing off things about her.

There was black soot on her left index finger, and a small sample of blood under her nails. She might have fought back at one point or it could be her blood. The forensic pathologist would determine that.

There were more than two dozen stab wounds to the chest, face, hands, arms, and legs that I could see. Part of her face was hamburger meat. Could a knife cause such damage?

I glanced around the room for the weapon.

Stepping over more white roses, I knelt beside the body again.

From what I could remember of Sharon Taylor, she’d been a woman roughly sixty years old. She had sandy blonde hair that was always in style and perfectly highlighted, and she dressed in the most expensive fashions.

I glanced down at the simple gray pants, dark black hiking boots, and black button-up shirt that I normally wore. It wasn’t that I didn’t have style, I just didn’t wear it to work. Not when there was a possibility of getting vomit, piss, or blood on me.

Just then, the front door opened. I jerked my head up and was instantly blinded by the flash from a camera. Not the small flashes you have on a cell phone, the real deal. The kind attached to cameras that made a noise when they snapped a picture.

For less than a second, I was blinded completely.

“Owen!” I screamed as I started blinking frantically.

“Shit!” I heard Owen say and then I focused my eyes just in time to see him struggling to pull back a dark-haired woman. I didn’t get a look at her face as a mass of long wavy dark hair blocked my view. Still, I knew exactly who it was and held in a groan.