Code 61 - Donald Harstad [18]
What appeared to be a knife handle seemed to be sort of wedged between the top of her right thigh and the side of the tub, but, again, it was difficult to tell from my vantage point. The last thing you want to do is go thundering right up to the body. You can disturb lots of trace evidence that way, not to mention the strong possibility of completely missing something important located away from the body. And as soon as you start to focus hard on the deceased, you begin to set a focal point that's hard to alter later. Later, as in when you're confronted with the evidence you missed in the first place. The salient fact was that she was dead. No need to rush. Keep it broad.
I looked at the dark green and white tiled floor, especially the area between me and the body. It appeared to be clean, with no bloodstains. The pale yellow walls were clean, as well. The porcelain sink on the near wall, at least down as far as I could see into it from my position some ten feet away, was clean, as well. Likewise for the porcelain stool beside it. The brass-framed medicine cabinet with a mirrored front, over the sink, also looked pristine.
There were folded pale green towels on a brass rack with glass shelves, about three feet behind the tub. Nothing there seemed to stand out.
There was a tall, white cabinet with, naturally, brass hinges and handles, all four doors closed.
There was no rug or mat on the floor, and there didn't appear to be any clothing in the room. No slippers. No robe. No unfolded towels. There was blood-spattered soap in the brass soap dish on the right side of the tub. No shampoo bottles, no sponges, no razor, no washcloth anywhere near the tub. Other than the dead woman, that was just about the only remarkable thing in the room.
“Must have been really neat,” I said to myself.
“What?” From the EMT Herb, near the door.
“Oh, nothing. Just talking to myself.” Oops. Sometimes I concentrate so hard on what I'm doing, I forget other people are anywhere around.
I looked up, just like the other night up on that third floor. I learned to do that long ago. Most cops never look up. Sometimes, they wish they had. I could see a half window above the tub, and a full-sized window at the far end. Both had curtains, and both were opened, with screens.
Box elder bugs and ladybugs were moving inside the window casings. A seasonal thing in Iowa. A couple of ladybugs had flown down into the room. They're such friendly little critters, I didn't bother getting them out of the way. One of the box elders was steadily crawling across the shower curtain, appearing and disappearing in the folds.
No obvious blood marks on the walls. Nothing remarkable about that, either way.
There was a ten-foot ceiling with a four-bulb lamp suspended from a chain. The bulbs were enclosed in white glass globes that hung from the green enameled flowery ends of the brass framework. Nice lamp. Nothing remarkable about it at all. No bloodstains. It'll surprise you, sometimes, just how high they can go if there's a spray or a splash effect. The ceiling itself was either the original molded copper painted white, or one of the newer, plastic versions. Either way, it, too, told me nothing except that it was expensive.
“Well, shit.” I failed to catch myself in time.
“What?” Herb, again. The man was a good listener, I had to give him that.
“I said, Herb,” raising my voice with a bit of exasperation, “ 'Well, shit.' ”
“Oh.”
“Is Borman back with those cameras, yet?”
“Here I am,” said Borman, behind me. “The office says the ME has been notified, and will get here ASAP. And, uh, Lamar says he'll come up, too.”
“Good.” I stepped back into the bedroom, and started to unpack the 35mm SLR. “How far into the room did you guys go?”
“Which room?”
“The bathroom,” I said, snapping the 50mm lens into the camera body. I unzipped the section of the bag that contained the digital camera, but left it in place. I'd duplicate some shots with the digital in order to have them right away. The 35mm stuff was for court, if necessary.