| |
Detective Bob Stone had his feet propped on the desk, leaning back in his chair eyes at half-mast waiting to clock out from the long rainy night. He still had three hours left on his rotation, but it felt more like twelve as the minutes ticked by.
He rubbed the three-day stubble on his face. He needed to shave. Not because it was police policy, but his skin started to burn from the stubble. He should’ve probably ironed his shirt before coming to work, but it’s not like he’d been out in public in a while.
After all, homicides had plummeted over the quarter by sixty-seven percent. The murder rate hadn’t been this low in his twenty-five-year career. The news stated the drop in the crime rate had been attributed to the new Mayor who promised to keep the citizens of his city safe. The local gossip around town believed the drop was due to the locals taking back their town.
Stone didn’t see any data that supported either claim. He believed the COVID 19 pandemic along with the stay at home order directed by the Governor was the main reason. After all, killers needed a hunting ground and if their victims were safe at home with their families, this would certainly be a cause for the drop in crime. But then again, it was only his opinion.
“Wake up, Stone,” Lieutenant Edwards yelled across the Dick’s bullpen. “You’ve got a body at Carson Park.”
Stone yawned. He put his feet on the floor, took a moment to get his bearings and stood.
“Cause of death, El-tee?”
“They’re dead.”
“You’re a wealth of knowledge, boss.”
Edwards either didn’t hear or didn’t care to respond. The man in charge of homicide retreated back to his office.
Stone yawned again. He needed a quick jolt of caffeine to jumpstart his brain. But when he moved to the back of the squad room to get a cup of joe, the pot was a quarter full, and the burner had been turned off.
He used an index finger to do a temperature check on the side of the pot. Maybe it hadn’t been turned off too long, but it was cold to the touch.
“Get your ass moving,” Edwards shouted. “The coroner is on the way.”
“Okay, okay.” Stone filled a foam cup with the black ooze and heated it in the microwave for sixty seconds. He took a sip of the foul-tasting liquid. At least it was hot.
Twenty minutes later, Stone arrived at the south end of Carson Park. A small crowd braving the downpour gathered behind the yellow tape cordoning off an area of about the size of a football field. The bad weather did little to deter onlookers from getting a glimpse of a dead body. He wasn’t sure if this was out of morbid curiosity or from the many crime shows that glamorized murder.
Vans from several local television stations were parked along the roadside. One of the cameramen saw him and tapped a woman wearing a charcoal rain slicker. Before she even had a chance to ask, Stone said, “No comment.”
A patrolman waved the detective through the barrier. In the middle of the crime scene, he saw a body lying face up. When he approached, he noticed the victim had a single gunshot wound to the left temple. A .38 caliber revolver was in the victim’s left hand. By all appearances it could be a suicide. Or at least someone wanted him to believe this.
As he studied the body, he realized the absence of blood, which would be plenty from a headwound, but the rain probably washed it away.
“You solve the case, yet?” he heard a voice say from behind. He turned back and saw the coroner, Dan Reeves, approach. Reeves wore a yellow raincoat and carried a black bag.
Stone shrugged. “To early to tell, but the prelim looks to be a suicide.”
“You really think so?”
“I was hoping you could shed some light on the situation. The weather has destroyed most of the evidence.”
The coroner knelt next to the body. “Single gunshot to the head. No powder burn, although the rain may have washed ot away.”
He glanced up at Stone. “Help me roll him over.”
The detective complied.
The victim’s shirt was crumpled and rolled up toward the torso. Mud was evident on the dead man’s back. “I think I’ve seen enough,” Edwards said. “Unless the autopsy uncovers something we don’t see here, this appears to be a suicide.”
“Actually, it reveals a murder.”
How did Detective Stone come to this decision? Is he correct or is the coroner correct?
Hint: Shirt
The coroner believed this is a suicide because there doesn’t appear to be any foul play. The victim has a gunshot wound to the head near the temple, which clearly indicates suicide to him.
Detective Stone noticed the victim’s shirt was crumpled and rolled up toward the torso. Mud was evident on the victim’s back. This can only mean one thing. The body had been dragged, which proves the body had been moved by the killer.