Read a Sample Chapter
Body Of Evidence
By Joan Elliott Pickart Harlequin Enterprises Limited
Copyright © 2003 Harlequin Enterprises Limited
All right reserved. ISBN: 037321829X
Chapter One
Maggie Sutter's heart seemed to be beating much faster than was healthy. She knew she had to pull herself together, as she needed every one of her five senses and every cell in her brain functioning on the highest plane for her to properly and thoroughly investigate the scene of a homicide. But the idea of talking to Josh Benton, and working closely with him, simply wouldn't leave her thoughts.
Maggie rode the elevator to the Gardner penthouse on the thirty-fifth floor of one of the luxury residential apartment buildings on Chicago's Gold Coast. Taking off her heavy jacket during the rise, she concluded that this was not your everyday street crime. The Gardner name was known to anyone who paid attention to the business section of Chicago's newspapers, or to the society pages. The family had clout and immense wealth. Old money, Maggie was certain, and the kind of lifestyle only others of the same class could grasp. Maggie had never longed for great wealth, and she was much more affected by working this case with Josh Benton than hearing that the victim was a Gardner.
The elevator doors opened with barely a whisper and Maggie stepped through them and into a different world, a huge foyer with marble floors and walls, and a few pieces of elegant furniture that had probably cost more than she made in a year. Two uniformed cops were on elevator duty in the foyer, and one of them checked her ID and compared the photo on it with her face.
"Has anyone checked this area for prints?" she asked him.
"Not yet. The photographer's been at it for about a half hour. He took some shots in here."
Maggie's gaze went over the frame of the elevator. Places of entrance and exit sometimes yielded all sorts of evidence. "Make sure anyone using the elevators keeps their hands in their pockets," she said. "And the stairs as well," she added, eyeing a door to the left that had to lead to a stairwell. She walked away from the two men and entered the penthouse apartment.
In the most incredibly beautiful room she'd ever seen - counting magazines and movies - Maggie saw a woman sitting on a plush, ivory-colored sofa and crying into a handful of tissues. Changing direction, Maggie walked over to her and the cop seated next to her.
Maggie arched her eyebrow inquisitively at the officer, and he promptly introduced the woman as Miriam Hobart. He explained, "She's been a housekeeper in this apartment for ten years. She found Franklin Gardner's body. Something woke her ... a sound ... and she got up to try to locate its source." That information prompted another gush of tears from the woman and some loud sobs.
Maggie thought for a moment then decided not to question the woman. First of all, Miriam Hobart was still in shock - or appeared to be - and in the weeping stage of grief. Second, this was Detective Josh Benton's case, and he might not appreciate her questioning anyone without a direct order from him. As primary detective on the case, he would orchestrate the investigation.
The elegant living room was immaculate and obviously not the scene of the crime. The sofa was already contaminated, so Maggie laid her jacket on the far end of it.
"Which room?" she asked.
"The study. Just follow the trail of uniforms," the officer said.
Maggie did exactly that and wound through large, elegantly decorated rooms until she found the study. The police photographer was still working, and Maggie stayed in the doorway. She could see the victim on the carpet. He was wearing a white terry robe that reminded Maggie of the ones passed out in posh health clubs.
"How much longer will you be in here, Jack?" she asked.
The photographer looked her way. "I'm done. You and whoever else works this case are going to have so many shots of this place ... and of the victim ... that you'll despise me."
"I doubt that." Jack began gathering his equipment. "Could you hang around for another thirty or so minutes?" she asked him. "I need photographs of the carpet under the body, but it can't be moved until I do some prelim work."
"Guess so. I'll be down in the lobby. Here's my cell number," he said, handing her his card. "Just give me a ring and I'll come back up, but I don't want to wait in here. After twenty years on the job, I still can't take the smell of a murder scene."
"Seen anything of Detective Benton?" she asked, making sure not to sound as though she gave a damn.
"Yeah, he's around. I saw him last in the master bedroom. Well, like I said, I don't like murder scenes. Call down when you're ready for me."
Maggie nodded and then frowned over Jack's second reference to a "murder scene," which this probably was, even though she hadn't yet found proof of that. Someone thought it was, however. Criminalists were not called out for heart attack victims.
Knowing nothing of Josh's methods of investigation - maybe he always checked every room of a crime scene domicile before he did anything else - Maggie walked closer to the body and spotted the blood under the head. It wasn't a huge puddle, which pretty much ruled out an arterial wound. There were also spots of blood on the white robe, about six or seven of them. Mr. Gardner's legs were bare and a white slipper hung on his right foot while the other slipper resided about a yard from his left foot.
Setting down her bag, Maggie opened it and took out a fresh pair of latex gloves, which she pulled onto her hands. She laid some white paper on the carpet next to Franklin Gardner's body and used it to kneel on.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Body Of Evidence by Joan Elliott Pickart Copyright © 2003 by Harlequin Enterprises Limited
Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
loading...