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Three

I’m also not seeing any personal effects or jewelry on her person,” Madison observed. “No earrings, necklace, rings, or watch.”

“Maybe we’re looking at a mugging.” Terry shrugged his shoulders.

Really, until they had more to go on, it was far too soon to lean heavily in any one direction. Cynthia and Mark went back to processing the scene. Mark placed yellow, numbered markers and a ruler beside each drop of blood, and Cynthia took a photo.

Madison nudged Terry’s arm. “Let’s go see if the homeowners are here yet.”

“Sure.”

“We’ll leave you guys to it,” Madison said. “Keep us posted if you find anything.”

“Always do,” Cynthia responded in a singsong voice that caused Madison to smile. She might have the slight tendency to micromanage.

Madison and Terry were just exiting as Cole Richards had a leg lifted to enter. The medical examiner’s assistant, Milo, was behind him.

“You’re leaving just when I arrived?” Richards smiled at her, the expression showcasing his white teeth and crinkling the dark skin around his eyes.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be back.” Madison returned the smile, thankful that things between them had finally returned to normal. A couple years ago, Madison had pried into his personal life, exposing an old, yet still-painful wound, and another time not long after that, she’d questioned one of his rulings.

“I have no doubt.” Richards laughed, and he and Milo proceeded inside.

Madison and Terry were making their way to the back door, and Officer Higgins was coming toward them. Higgins had been her training officer when she first joined the Stiles PD.

“What is it, Chief?” Madison accepted his desire not to advance rank, but it didn’t stop her from using her affectionate nickname for him. After all, if Higgins had wanted to be police chief, he could have been.

“Just wanted to let you know that the Bernsteins are ready to speak with you, whenever you’re ready.”

“The Bernsteins?” Madison asked.

“Oh, figured you knew. The homeowners. Oliver and Rhea. They’re in the house with Estelle.”

“Good timing. We were just going to check on that.”

Higgins started walking back in the direction of the house.

“Hey, Chief,” she called out to him.

Higgins turned around. “You really need to stop calling me that.”

“I don’t see why.”

“Probably because he’s not the chief,” Terry pointed out.

As if I don’t know that… Troy’s sister, Andrea Fletcher, had taken the post after the previous chief had retired.

“Are officers knocking on doors in the neighborhood yet?” she asked Higgins.

“Just getting started. I’ll let you know if anything useful comes back.”

“When they’re finished on Hillcrest, it might not be a bad idea to have them canvass Burnham Street.” He looked at her, some confusion in his eyes, and she turned and gestured to the open gate at the rear of the yard. “Terry and I were thinking she might have come through there.”

“Okay. I’ll make sure that happens.”

“Good, and have them keep an eye out for the primary. It’s not looking like she was killed here.”

“You got it.” Higgins took a step, stopped. “That all?”

“For now.”

“All right, then. The Bernsteins are in the front sitting room. Just go through that door on the lower deck and up the stairs to the left.”

“Thanks.” His form disappeared through the side gate, and she turned to Terry. “Let’s hope the Bernsteins can give us a name for Jane Doe.”

Madison got the door for her and Terry. The place smelled of garlic, ground beef, and tomato sauce.

A man’s voice carried down to the entry. “What’s this going to do to our property value?”

She felt an instant dislike. Murder wasn’t convenient for anyone, least of all the deceased, but it would seem the man was more concerned with his bottom line than the fact someone had died on his property.

The entry was more of a breezeway. It was a straight shot from the back door to the front. One set of stairs went down and another up. The walls of the staircases were open-sided with spindles that made it easy to see the spaces above and below. The stairs going down looked like they led to a large room, and up, to the sitting room Higgins had mentioned.

“Madison?” Estelle’s head popped up over the top railing.

Madison wiped her feet on the mat, and Terry followed suit.

The upper level was beautiful. Glistening maple floors, large windows, and an open-concept floorplan. The sitting area was to the immediate right at the top of the stairs. A hallway veered to the left and likely led to a bedroom or two and a bathroom. And behind the living room was a dining area, the kitchen to the left of that.

Estelle’s hair had been pulled back, the frizz smoothed out, and her makeup fixed. Knowing the woman as Madison did, she was a true professional and would have wanted to present a strong front for her clients.

“Madison,” Estelle began, her gaze skipping over Madison to Terry. “This is Mr. and Mrs. Bernstein.”

Sixty-somethings. Both with gray hair and faces so similar they could have been siblings rather than a married couple. They were trim and had mirroring expressions of shock. The woman’s cheeks were flushed, and the man’s body language was stiff and rigid. They were seated on a dark-blue couch.

“I’m Oliver,” the man said, “and this is my wife, Rhea.”

“I’m Detective Madison Knight, and this is my partner, Terry Grant.”

“Also a detective,” Terry added with some levity.

Estelle’s gaze returned to Terry and she offered him a reserved smile.

“We have some questions for you…” Madison gestured toward an available cream-colored wingback chair.

“Absolutely. Sit wherever you’d like,” Oliver told her.

She sat, and Terry dropped into another chair, first setting aside two throw pillows.

“We can imagine what a shock this must be,” Madison said to start.

“It’s shocking all right.” Rhea blew out a breath and glanced at Estelle. “When Estelle told us what was in our shed…” She searched for her husband’s hand, and he gave it to her.

“We can’t show you a picture of her right now.” Madison proceeded to describe Doe’s looks. “Does that sound like someone you might know?”

“Could be.” Oliver’s voice was strained. “Hard to really tell without seeing— Do you have a name for us?”

“Unfortunately, there was no ID with her. Were you home last night?” They didn’t have time of death yet, but it seemed safe to conclude Doe had died sometime during in the night, given the fact she was rain-soaked.

“I stepped out for some groceries about six and got home around seven,” Oliver said. “Rhea was here, though. She made lasagna.”

That explained the smells in the home.

“I was here all afternoon yesterday,” Rhea volunteered. “Spent most of it downstairs in a recliner reading the latest Carolyn Arnold novel.”

Madison pressed her lips into a tight smile. She’d never heard of the author, but that wasn’t a surprise; her schedule didn’t leave her much time to read.

“And from seven on?” Terry asked.

“We were here together.” Oliver glanced at his wife and continued. “We watched Netflix until bed.”

Madison glanced around the room, and there was no television.

“We watch it downstairs in our media room,” Oliver said, seeming to notice Madison’s search.

“What time did you go to bed?” Terry asked.

“Rhea went around nine thirty, and I fell asleep on the couch but staggered up to bed at around midnight.”

Up. So the master bedroom must be down that hallway. Maybe if she wasn’t there for a murder investigation, she would have appreciated a tour. “Did either of you hear or see anything in the night?”

“I didn’t.” Oliver accompanied his verbal answer with a shake of his head.

“And you, Mrs. Bernstein?” Madison prompted. “Maybe a noise in the wee hours?”

“Wee hours…” Rhea’s blanched. “Come to think of it. I got up to use the washroom.”

Madison leaned forward. “What time was this?”

“Oh, say about one in the morning. I can’t remember exactly, but when you said, ‘wee hours,’ it sparked a memory. I heard a thump outside, but I was basically still asleep. Just figured it was nothing. The rain was lashing against the windows in the bedroom.”

“You never looked out to see what it might have been?”

Rhea met her gaze. “I didn’t. I’m sorry.”

Madison ran through the possibilities in her head. The noise could have been Doe closing the shed door—then again, it could have been anything. “Do you normally keep your shed locked?”

“Never found a need to before.” Oliver’s eyes went downcast.

The Bernsteins had been fortunate not to have a break-in. They were only two blocks east and one north of the downtown core. There was a lot of petty theft in the area, including unlocked cars being riffled through for cash. “You probably know what I’m going to say.” Madison smiled.

“That we should lock all our doors. Don’t worry. We will now,” Oliver said.

“One more question and we’ll leave you for now,” Madison began, “but is your back gate normally open or closed?” She recalled how it was sitting crooked on the hinges, and without getting a close look, it was hard to say if it was just a tricky gate that didn’t latch.

“It should be closed,” Rhea said tentatively.

“Okay, thank you.” Madison walked over to the Bernsteins with her card. Rhea took it from her. “Call me if you have any questions or concerns. Or if you think of anything else that might help us with the case.”

She and Terry saw themselves out through the rear door to the lower deck.

“So the Bernsteins didn’t know her, or at least say they don’t,” Madison said. “But who really knows? It’s not like we had a name to give them or a picture. I guess what I’m struggling with is why Doe went in their shed. And did she know it was sitting unlocked or just strike it lucky that way?”

“Let me consult my crystal ball…”

“Smart-ass.” She punched him in the shoulder.

“Hey.” Terry rubbed where she’d hit him. Sometimes their relationship was more like siblings than work partners.

“I’m just saying we’ve got to figure this out.”

“This is where I’d say, ‘no poop,’ seeing as I don’t swear.” He smiled, but she rolled her eyes and shook her head. Her “brother” certainly had a way with words.