A Study In Murder

?She inserted the key and the electronic lock blinked with a green light and went “click.”

?“You are not going in there!” I whispered adamantly.

?“Of course not, Mark.”

?“Thank God!” I exhaled heavily.

?“We both have to put on gloves a

nd shoe covers, which I have in my room, then we go in.”

?She took off in the opposite direction. I gave a startled cry and followed. She quickly pulled out her own room key and opened the door of a room down the hall.

?Her room was the same set-up as mine, except that the bed and desk were a mirror reflection. She marched to a hanging bag in the closet and extracted a small, thin box of latex surgical gloves, as well as several white cloth elasticized bags that I assumed were shoe covers.

?“Why did you bring those?” I wondered.

?“I told you I like to be prepared,” she said and threw a pair at me. “Come on, glove up.”

?“Oh no!” I said, as she began to squeeze her hands into the rubber. “Are you crazy? We’ve already trespassed one crime scene—”

?“Randall’s apartment wasn’t sealed,” Sheryl clarified as she got her right hand sheathed. “So technically, this is the first crime scene we’re violating.”

?“Great,” I cursed, and with anger grabbed a glove and began to stretch it over my fingers. “I’ve been honest my entire life. In one day of knowing you, I’ve become a felon.”

?“It can only help us to look around, Mark,” Sheryl explained, as she pulled out a pair of shoe covers and put them on.

?“Unless we get caught,” I pointed out, as I sat on the bed and covered my shoes as well, “which will convince DeStadler that we are guilty!”

?“Come on.” Sheryl held the key card aloft.

?I sighed, shook my head, and followed her.

?We looked both ways down the hall, then she opened the lock with the key and opened the door. The yellow tape came loose from the wood but blocked the upper part of the doorway. We both ducked, one at a time, crept into the room, and silently shut the door.

?Sheryl snapped on the light.

?“Jesus!” I exclaimed. There was a large brownish-red blotch in the middle of the floor next to the bed. “So much blood.”

?Sheryl pulled her magnifying glass out of her pocket and walked over to the spot.

?“I assume she bled out on the floor after she was shot. But her blood would spatter in a blowback as a mist when she was standing—”

?“What if the bullet went right through her?” I offered.

?“If so, the spatter at the exit wound would be heavier,” Sheryl said, and looked at the floor, then she looked at the wall opposite the stain.

?“I don’t see a bullet hole here, so I think the bullet didn’t penetrate her completely,” she mentioned, and then moved to the wall behind me.

?She returned to the floor and slowly moved to the wall again.

?“Let’s see how this plays out,” she said. “If the body fell where the stain is—Mark can you move to the left?”

?“Here?” I asked, as I shifted my position.

?“No, nearer the table.”

?I moved and looked around. “How can you tell—”