Code 61 - Donald Harstad [59]
Sunday, October 8, 2000
12:16
“Hello? Is anybody here?” came from the front doorway. A woman's voice.
I was on my hands and knees, with a small Mini-Mag flashlight, side-lighting possible wipe marks on the dining room floor. I scrambled to my feet, and headed for the door.
Borman, who'd been in the music room, beat me to the door by seconds.
“Yes?” I heard him say, in a deferential tone.
Her voice got closer as she said, “I own this house. Could you direct me to whomever is in charge?”
“Uh, sure,” said Borman. In two sentences, she'd let him know she was important, and he wasn't. Not bad.
I came around the corner from the dining room, and saw two women in the atrium, beginning to advance past Borman. I could see how Borman had been intimidated. One of the women seemed to be about twenty-five or so, the other I would have guessed at thirty-five, max, if her driver's license data hadn't said she was forty-three. Both were quite fit, slim, with Jessica Hunley about three inches taller than her completely leather-clad young companion. But the remarkable thing was the younger one's hair. It was absolutely metallic-looking, starting with a lemon yellow at her forehead, and sweeping back through lime green, blue, red, and ending in purple. It shimmered iridescently. Arresting, so to speak.
I resolved to be just a bit harder to intimidate than Borman. “Hi. Name's Houseman.” I stuck out my hand. She didn't have much choice, and we shook. Strong. “You must be Jessica Hunley.”
“Yes.”
There was a momentary silence, so I took what advantage I could, and thrust my hand toward the other woman. “Deputy Houseman … ”
“Tatiana Ostransky,” she said. “I'm with Jessica.” Her handshake was cool and firm.
Jessica started the game with me. “Deputy? I would have hoped the sheriff would be here.”
“Two reasons,” I said. “First, I'm the department investigator. Second, Edie was his niece. He has other things to do today.”
That surprised her.
“So, you're the one in charge here?” Nice, wide, absolutely insincere smile.
“You betcha.”
She fixed me with a gaze that told me she knew just exactly what I was up to, and that she thought she could beat me at that game any time she chose. Cool.
I gestured toward the parlor. “If we go in there, I can give you some information.”
I was curious as to why anybody coming to the house wouldn't have been at least announced, if not delayed, by the two reserve officers outside. As we headed in toward the parlor, I saw them coming around the side of the house. Bored, they'd apparently decided to check the perimeter.
In the parlor, nobody sat.
“What,” asked Hunley, “is he doing in the kitchen?” She pointed to the lab tech, who was staring back at her.
As part of my answer, I opened my old leather briefcase, and fished out her copy of the search warrant. I handed it to her, and said, “We're executing a warranted search of this premises. He's one of the lab technicians.”
A search warrant lists the premises with the greatest specificity, and explains very tersely why the place is being tossed. In this instance, the exact wording was “evidence material to a homicide investigation.” Knives were also listed, along with bloodstains.
Jessica Hunley took out a pair of reading glasses from a case at her belt, and read the search warrant over very carefully. She was dressed in loose-fitting olive slacks, made with a microweave fabric, a white jersey turtleneck with the sleeves pushed up, and black leather shoes that appeared to be almost as soft as gloves, that zipped rather than tied. Her brown hair was tied with a white band in a short ponytail. She seemed to be a perfect match for the house. Refined. The glasses made her appear more interesting, if such a thing were possible.
She abruptly removed the glasses, and handed the paper to her companion. “I wasn't told this was a homicide case,” she said. Her tone was completely noncommittal.
“Don't feel bad,” I said. “We weren't, either.”
“Is there a suspect?”
“Yes,” I said. Silence. I wasn't going to tell her who, of course, and apparently she wasn't