Page 18 of She Gives Love a Bad Name

To the right, a basket of cleaning supplies lays overturned beside a table holding an expensive-looking vase. I walk down the carpeted hall, cursing the crimson fabric beneath my feet. I can’t see bloody footprints.

Returning to the master bedroom, I study the scene from the doorway. The position of the body tells me he was facing the door when he was killed. Nothing blocked the path of the blood, so the killer must have been behind him.

“Did you find a weapon?” I rub my hand along my jaw. I already know the answer to the question, but I have to ask.

“No weapon.” Mickey clicks his pen and tucks it in his pocket with the notebook. “But get a load of this.”

He steps around the body and leads me from the room. I follow him down the stairs to the narrow entry at the front of the house. Earlier, I came in the back door since the reporters and photographers were out front, hungry for whatever morsel of gruesome detail they could get.

Blood coats the white tile. Drops lead to the entrance where there’s a smear on the door and blood coats the handle. A metal coatrack lays sideways across the path. I step around it and kneel to investigate. “The killer’s?”

Mickey shrugs. “Who knows? Could be. But my guess is someone stumbled upon the killer and made a run for it.”

I retrace the trail of blood and find sporadic droplets hidden in the carpet. They lead directly to the third floor, stopping at the top of the stairs.

“You might be on to something.” I turn to face my partner. “I want the names of anyone who was in this house last night.”

“On it.” Mickey grabs the nearest uniformed officer. Once he gives the instructions, he turns back to me. His brow furrows at the look on my face. “What are you thinking?”

“As soon as they’re finished in the master bedroom and the victim is taken to the coroner, I want the family to inventory the house. See if anything is missing.”

Mickey groans. “You can’t think this has any connection to that stack of cold cases you’ve been working on?”

“I won’t rule it out.”

“You’re obsessed, Richards.”

“Maybe. But I’m not discounting anything.”

The officer returns with a piece of paper. I snatch it and skim the names on the list.Milly Parker, Jane Murphy, Alice Jones.Two maids working on the main floors and a nanny on the fourth floor.

“Get them here.”

“Sir, the nanny is downstairs in the parlor along with one of the maids.”

“We’ll start there.”

Mickey and I make our way to the parlor. Inside, the ashen countenances of two women transform from apprehensive to relieved at our entry.

“Morning. This is Detective McArthur and I’m Detective Richards. I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

They both nod. I ask them some basic questions to establish their positions in the household and their routines. A few personal questions give me a better feel for their reliability.

“Did either of you see or hear anything last night?”

“I was fast asleep with the baby.” The nanny, Alice, twists the handkerchief in her hand. Tears fill her eyes.

I turn to Milly and offer a smile. “Did you hear anything?”

She shakes her head, her eyes darting back and forth, unable to meet my gaze.

“What about the other maid, Jane Murphy? Did she see anything?”

Sobs spill from her. “I don’t know. She disappeared. I tried to call her this morning, but her roommate told me she hasn’t come home.” Finally, she meets my eyes. “Something bad happened to her. I know it.”

I pass Milly a clean handkerchief from my pocket and tell her we’ll post a bulletin to ensure her friend’s safety. My gut twists. That nagging feeling from before returns with a vengeance.

“Can you describe her for me?”

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