“A thirty-eight straight through the heart. Frontal entry. Exit wound in the back. Death was instantaneous. Lots of blood, but, as shootings go, it was fairly neat.”
To cover his discomposure, Duncan took the pair of latex gloves DeeDee passed him.
“Can we have a look-see?” she asked.
Brooks stepped aside and motioned them toward the end of the long foyer. “In the study.” As they walked, he glanced overhead. “I could send one of my kids to an Ivy League college for what that chandelier cost.”
“Who else has been in there?” DeeDee asked.
“The judge. First cops on the scene. Swore they didn’t touch anything. I waited on your crime scene boys, didn’t go in till they gave me the go-ahead. They’re still in there, gathering trace evidence and trying to get a name off the guy.”
“Guy?” Duncan stopped in his tracks. “The shooter is in custody?”
Dothan Brooks turned and looked at the two of them with perplexity. “Hasn’t anybody told y’all what happened here?”
“Obviously not,” DeeDee replied.
“The dead man in the study was an intruder,” he said. “Mrs. Laird shot him. She’s your shooter.”
Movement at the top of the staircase drew their gazes upward. Elise Laird was making her way down the stairs followed by a policewoman in uniform.