Page 60 of Kill For Me Kill For You
‘I would, but the old folks’ home wants you back in bed by eleven,’ said Hernandez.
The two old men laughed heartily, and at that moment Farrow saw that the yellow police-evidence markers on the lawn highlighted a pool of blood. It was still wet and looked black in the darkness.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Farrow. ‘We’re not muscling in on your case. We have a call out on any home invasion assaults or homicides. Your dispatcher gave us the heads-up when you called in the scene. Does this look like our guy?’
The old men nodded at one another. The pissing contest was over.
‘Don’t think so. Looks like a bad domestic,’ said Donnelly. ‘Neighbors called when they heard shouting out back. Sounded like a man and a woman having a fight, so one of ’em said. The vic is male.’
A male didn’t fit their profile, but it wasn’t unheard of for a suspect to change up their victim selection. Either because they wanted a change, or to throw the cops off the scent.
‘Was the vic stabbed? Do you have the weapon?’ asked Hernandez.
‘Oh, we got the weapon, all right,’ said Carter, giving a throaty laugh, filled with phlegm. ‘The perp left it in his chest. A fire axe. Or looks like one. We’ll get a better look at it when the doctors separate it from his ribcage.’
‘Jesus,’ said Hernandez. ‘That’s one hell of a domestic.’
Farrow stepped over the pool of blood and glanced at the tool shed. It looked as though somebody had taken the axe to the outside of the door before they’d buried it in the homeowner’s chest. The bolt on the shed was lying on the lawn. It had been ripped away. Farrow stepped inside the shed, looked around at the neatly arranged tools. It was a lot tidier than Farrow’s garage, except they both shared a problem with cobwebs. Every tool had its place. Neatly and intelligently arranged. A diligent craftsman had put this shed together. There was a spot on the wall, two thick nails, two feet apart – a perfect place to hang an axe.
A crime-scene marker sat beside a cell phone on the worktop.
He stepped out of the shed.
‘So how did this go down?’ asked Farrow.
‘Lover’s tiff. She comes at him with the axe because he cheated, stole her money, whatever. There’s a baseball bat on the lawn. Maybe he threatened her first? Doesn’t matter. She kills him then she breaks for the border, goes out the back gate into the alley,’ said Statler.
Farrow and Hernandez made their way to the back gate. It was open. The bolt, secured with a padlock, had been broken from the wood. It lay on the path beside a hammer, all delineated with crime-scene markers.
‘What do you think?’ asked Farrow.
‘It’s not Mr. Blue-eyes, but I don’t buy a domestic. Not yet,’ said Hernandez.
‘Me either. But those two won’t look past their own noses on a case. And they work slow. Look at them,’ said Farrow.
Leaning to one side, Hernandez watched the two men. They were holding folded notebooks, using them to lean on as they each filled out a document.
‘They’re filling out their overtime forms. That’s their priority,’ she said.
‘This feels a million miles from a domestic. Maybe we can give them a steer.’
They walked back to Statler and Waldorf, who were now finishing their forms. Ready to leave.
‘Any sign of a disturbance in the house?’ asked Farrow.
‘Zip,’ said Donnelly.
‘Fair enough. Let me know if forensics come back with anything. It doesn’t look like our guy, but I can’t rule it out yet. There are a few things making me think this isn’t a domestic, though,’ said Farrow.
‘What things?’ asked Carter.
‘The broken door on the tool shed, the broken lock on the back gate, the broken window. If the female, let’s assume for now it was a female, had a fight with her partner, why break the locks? Why not just use the key? Or go out the front door? And why break the window?’
‘Who knows. People don’t think clearly when they’ve just planted an axe in their lover’s chest. Fingers crossed we’ll know exactly what happened by morning,’ said Donnelly.
‘By morning? That’s Thanksgiving Eve. You figuring on an early holiday miracle?’ asked Hernandez.
‘No, little lady,’ said Donnelly. ‘When the paramedics took away the vic, he still had a pulse. This guy ain’t dead. If he makes it, he can just tell us what happened.’
