The Hot Wife Photos Ch. 01

"First I'm hearing of them." I said. "So you found all this about Domingo pretty easily?"

"Well, the part about Cerone was from Jack, and privately," Tanya said, "so that wouldn't be easily found. But the Ward Harvester stuff is right out there. Vauxhall was accidental, but it wasn't like I had to dig all that hard for it."

"Did you come across anything related to T-Square, or Weinstein?" I asked.

"Nope." Tanya said. "And I know why you're asking. T-Square's boy 'Smooth' has disappeared. I'm guessing it was his headless body found in that drum at Crown Chemicals, and that it will take a 'Crowbar' to truly pry out all that was going on about that."

"You didn't hear me say a word about that." I said. "Though Booker T. Washington's science classes now have a very nice brain to study." Tanya grinned and nodded.

"Okay, this is great stuff, Tanya." I said. "I need not tell you that it needs to be kept between us, though if you and Jack Muscone share some things I'll understand. Oh, and be careful... always look back over your shoulder, and try not to be alone at any time. If the Shadow Man finds out about your research..." I let the sentence hang, unfinished.

"I hear you, sir." said Tanya. "And I'm always careful, just like you are." I nodded as I left Tanya's office.

Part 4 - The Curiously Unclaimed Wife

Wednesday, September 23d. The 'Angels' meeting had been more than unproductive with regard to the murdered Jane Doe case. So I had Cindy Ross, Tanya Perlman, Joanne Cummings, Theo Washington, Myron Milton, and Martin Nash join me in Classroom 'E' behind MCD for a conference.

"The autopsy came back yesterday afternoon." said Tanya Perlman. "Death by strangulation, from behind. Time of death is Sunday afternoon, possibly from 5:00pm to 9:00pm, likely toward the earlier time. That's Martha-speak for between 5:00 and 7:00, by the way; she gives wider times to cover her ass, like all M.E.s do, of course."

Tanya continued: "The bruising was definitely from an earlier time period, at least 36 to 48 hours before her death. There were some very deep bruises that were working out, as well as the more visible surface bruising. But here's the funny thing: Martha thought the bruises were strange, so she consulted with Dr. Cordell, who's a retired Navy doctor living in Nextdoor County on Lake Reservoir. Dr. Cordell said the bruising was consistent with calculated, systematic blows to the head and upper body, not the wild, disconnected punches that an angry person beating her up would produce."

"That's interesting." I said... and no one realized that my comment was about Dr. Leonard Cordell (Admiral, USN, Ret.) being anywhere near this vicinity with one of the CIA's highest officers (my wife Laura) in the next county over. Dr. Cordell had also saved Cindy Ross's life in the O.R. on the night she was so grievously wounded.

"Okay," I went on, "talk to me about this woman not being identified yet."

It was Joanne Cummings that spoke first, on behalf of MCD: "Sir, we've melted the wires over this one, but nothing has come up. We've gotten no missing calls about any woman at all in the last 48 hours, much less a woman near her description. Fingerprints were re-submitted to the FBI for a much more comprehensive search, but so far nothing has come back. Martin contacted the FBI's Missing Persons Bureau, but they don't have anything, either."

"Was this a formal check, Nash?" I asked, "Or did you or Sandra talk to someone in a more behind-the-scenes way?"

"Along official lines, sir." said Martin Nash.

"Okay," I said, making a note on my pad, "I'm going to talk to Jack Muscone and see if he or his people can get us something on the side from Missing Persons. If Sandra knows someone, Martin, see if you can get her to ask a few quiet questions.

"Yes sir." said Nash.

"What is striking to me," I said, nearly lost in thought, "is that no one has called about this woman."

"Maybe her husband or one of her family members did it, so they wouldn't want to report her missing." Cindy Ross said.

"Could be," I said, "or the husband is out of town and doesn't know that his wife is dead. The way she was dressed, she might have been entertaining a lover and something happened. Okay, what did the 'Data Guyz' find from any street cameras in the area?"

"Nothing, sir." said Joanne Cummings. "I sat with them a while to learn how they went about searching. As you said, there are no cameras in the immediate area of the Ladies Clubhouse, but we looked at the nearest camera coverage of the road leading to the Clubhouse, as well as into the Kensington neighborhood nearby. There was nothing suspicious; every car we saw on camera belongs to someone that lives in the Kensington area."

"Hmmm, that's interesting." I said. "Myron, anything to add?"

"No sir. Everything Detective Cummings said is accurate." said Myron Milton. "I did go back to the next 'ring' of cameras that leads to that area, but most of that data from the main road has been erased due to high traffic flow. Those cameras mostly are for someone to view from a monitoring station, anyway. I also sneaked a peek into KXTC and KSTD's feeds from their helicopters to their servers, but there was nothing in that area during that timeframe."

"Geez, Myron," I said, "you are going to get me in serious trouble one day."

"I'll make sure it's worth it, sir." said Myron, drawing a mock disapproving look from Your Iron Crowbar.

"Sir," said Joanne Cummings, "I would appreciate anything you can suggest to help me find out who she is and what happened to her."

"I wish I had something to tell you." I said. "But there's nothing to observe yet, much less deduce, and the good old fashioned grunt work is not coming up with anything. So that means that we have to just keep pounding away at it."

I thought about it, then added: "There is one option left: publicity. I would absolutely hate to have to go to the Media about this... but it might be our only option at this point."

Just then, there was a knock at the door, and Patrolman Culver peeked in. "Sir, we just got a call about a break-in. Kensington district." He handed me a sheet of paper with the address.

"Ah, Kensington district!" I said, looking around the room. "Captain Ross, what do you think of coincidences?" I asked enthusiastically.

"Whatever my boss thinks of them, so do I." Cindy most very astutely replied. "So we won't hand this off to Vice. Theo, take the lead on this."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The house was down the road and a couple of turns from Ryan's house and the house where Michelle Schelle had been murdered by electrocution some time before, but it was of similar construction: split level, three bedrooms, greatroom with a brick fireplace, kitchen and breakfast room/dining room area.

And it was a mess. It had been thoroughly trashed. The Crime Lab had been called in and were examining everywhere for prints and other clues. Meanwhile, Theo and Cindy were talking with the owner, a woman named Cassie Sanderson.

Cassie was the mother of Ryan's friend Sean. This was Sean's house. Cassie was a woman in her 40s, about 5'7", black hair, and voluptuous. Not actually fat, but just a bit fleshy in all areas. She was wearing a black t-shirt, blue jeans, and black sneakers.

Sean was in the backyard with Sergeant Rudistan and Sr. Patrolman Morton. It was standard to separate family members so that they could be questioned separately.

"Where are you employed, ma'am?" asked Theo.

"I work for myself." said Cassie. "I'm a photographer. I mostly do weddings and social events, but I've done a few freelance jobs and sell my photos to the Media stations."

"So you weren't here last night?" asked Theo.

I listened in as Cassie said "No sir. My son and I were visiting our friends Ryan and Marlena." She gave Ryan's address as the location, then continued "We had dinner with them, then watched some television, and we decided to stay there overnight--"

"Ma'am," interrupted Theo Washington, "why didn't you just come back home?"

"Uh... ah..." Cassie stammered. "Uh, it was just more convenient..." She was being defensive, and my immensely valuable time was about to be wasted. So I cut in.

"Ma'am," I said, turning to them and giving Cassie my full attention, "I can understand if there was alcohol being consumed and you don't want to say so because Ryan and Sean are not yet 21 years old. But that is of no concern to me. I do need to know what happened here, so please give us every detail, and be assured I'm not going to arrest you for something like that."

Theo blinked as understanding penetrated his brain. Cindy had an 'Of course!' look on her face as understanding dawned. Cassie's eyes showed me that I was right about her reticence to answer that last question. Now reassured, she said "So we stayed overnight with them and came back this morning. We found the house like this. The back door had been kicked in, and the house was trashed."

"Do you know what all has been taken?" Theo asked.

"My jewelry box in the dresser in my bedroom is missing. "said Cassie. "Sean said a couple of his electric guitars are missing, as well as the speaker he uses with them. Our flat-screen TV that was on that wall, too." I had been facing the fireplace, and looked to the wall to my left where Cassie was pointing. The mountings for the TV showed where the flat-screen itself had been. Below was a long, thin table, which had some plaster dust scattered on it, which had come from where the TV had been torn off its mounting on the wall, damaging the wall itself in the process. In the middle of that table was a clock with arms (legs?) to each side and a round middle, that was made to be set on fireplace mantles.

As I looked around the room a bit more intently, Cassie said "I had my laptop computer with me, and my two best cameras and video camera were in the car while we were at Marlena's. But the other cameras were stolen, as well as my entire file cabinet of negatives and some of my backup external hard drives."

I was looking at the mantle over the fireplace. "Where is your computer and that camera equipment now?"

"Still in my car." said Cassie.

"There's something missing from this mantle, also." I said. "There's a clean spot in the middle."

"Oh, that clock was there." said Cassie. "I moved it to the side table under the TV a few of days ago and hadn't put it back yet." I put on latex gloves and went over and picked up the clock, which was of solid wood and metal construction, and heavy. Underneath was the same evenly distributed plaster dust that covered the whole table.

"Ma'am," I said as I set the clock back down, "can you show me the room where your photography stuff and the negatives were?"

"Sure." said Cassie, leading the way down the hall.

Just before I followed, I grabbed Cindy by the arm and said quietly, my voice barely over a whisper, "Tell the Crime Lab to get photos of that clean spot on the mantle and the dust under this clock." I said quietly, my voice barely over a whisper. Cindy just nodded and went to find a Crime Lab technician.

We went down the stairs of the split-level, which led to the garage. Turning left, we entered a small office room. It was indeed trashed, with papers and photographs strewn everywhere. A wall safe on the right side was opened and empty. A filing cabinet against the left wall had four drawers, all partially open and all empty. On the far side from the door, against the window, was an office desk, which had also been ransacked.

"Yep, they did a number on this room." I said. As I turned back towards the door to the hall, I saw a large, framed photograph on the wall to the right of the door as I faced it. I gasped out loud.

The photo was of a lovely woman, her hands clasped behind her head or running through the back of her hair, which was light brown and in drills of gentle curls. She was half facing the camera, showing off her shaved right armpit and also her large breasts, barely covered by the thin fabric of a sundress. The woman's eyes gave a promise of sexuality, her lipsticked lips glossy and beckoning.

"Ma'am," I asked Cassie, "who is this in this photograph?"

"Oh, that's Emma." said Cassie. "She's my friend. She lives right across the street, to the left of the house right across from ours."

"What's her full name?" I asked.

"Uh..." Cassie said, "Emma Washburn. Why?"

"And she lives in 1105, right across the street?" I asked, peering at the photo.

"Uh yes, why?" Cassie said.

"Just curious." I said. "We may need to talk to her. When was the last time you talked to Emma?"

"Uh, Sunday." said Cassie. "She was here that afternoon, and I took some photos of her. Then I left to go to church while Emma changed clothes before going home."

"That was normal?" I asked.

"I'd left Emma here by herself before." Cassie said. "She's stayed overnight at times, too. We're good friends."

"And you haven't seen her nor spoken to her since Sunday?"

"No." said Cassie. "Her husband is a contractor and is home on leave from Alaska. I think they're spending some 'quality time' together, if you know what I mean."

"I certainly do." I said. Just then Cindy came into the room. I pointed at the photograph and said "Lovely photography, don't you think?"

Cindy's eyes widened like saucers as she looked at the photograph. The woman in the photograph... was the dead woman found behind the Ladies Auxiliary Clubhouse.

To be continued.