Chapter 5
Dr. Culpepper arrived with the coroner’s wagon, accompanied by two technicians. “Why can’t you two just stay home for a change and leave me the hell alone?” The cantankerous medical examiner smiled at Oriole. Dr. Culpepper, long time medical examiner for Yavapai County, cultivator of prize winning orchids, founding member and currently president of the Garden Society, tried to put on a front to put people off. Oriole, having known him long before his retirement from active practice, never cowed by his bluster.
“Not our fault, Doc. We just answer the call. Here’s what we know.” Oriole recited what she and Fred had discovered as she and Culpepper entered the house and went up the stairs. “A major concern is that this place has been cleaned by the REO crew. We don’t know how much, if any evidence has been lost because of that.”
“What REO crew? What’s that?” Culpepper asked.
“REO stands for Real Estate Owned. It means the bank has repossessed this house and sent in a cleaning crew to get it ready for sale.” Oriole explained, having been educated by Frances while waiting for the ME.
“All righty then. Let’s see what we have.” Culpepper said as he entered the office. Because of the limited space, Oriole remained on watch outside the door. “Turning on recorder. White female, mid to late 60’s, blond hair, looks to be strangled with some kind of cord. Business suit, stockings, dress shoes with some residue. Maybe dead 8-12 hours based on rigor. I’ll be able to tell you more once I get her on the table. Stop recording. Get photos, then, Bob, you and Les wrap her hands and take the carpet and her intact. We need to vacuum the floor here real tight. Check the rest of the house for trace evidence. Do fingerprints on all doors and windows just in case. Oh, wait, I’m crossing over into Fred and Oriole’s area. Sorry.” Dr. Culpepper looked sheepishly at the detectives.
“Like he said.” Fred chuckled and pointed his thumb at the doc. The technicians took photos of every square inch of the office. At the conclusion of their work, Oriole took custody of the camera while Fred looked on.
After the techs were finished and had packed up, Oriole and Fred went back to where the Mercedes still sat in the hot, late afternoon sun. “Oops, we forgot about poor ole Frances.” Fred said with obvious chagrin.
“Sorry to make you wait, Frances. I have a digital close up of the victim. Would you be up to looking at it and see if you recognize her?” Oriole attempted to make up for her partner’s brusque manners.
“How would I know someone that died? I don’t run around with people like that. I live a nice quiet life, for God’s sake.”
“I know, Frances, but maybe you have seen her somewhere around. Please try.” Oriole cajoled her grandmother’s long time friend.
“Well, I’ll look but it won’t do any good, I can tell you that now, before I ever look at it.”
Oriole took the camera out of the bag, turned it on and paged forward to a close up of the victim’s face without really looking at the picture. She turned the camera towards Frances. Frances moved closer to Oriole and focused on the screen photo, gasped and crumpled.
It happened so fast, neither Fred nor Oriole were prepared for Frances’ response. Frances hit the ground before either could grab onto her. Oriole looked at Fred who raised his right eyebrow, “Maybe she does know the deceased.”
“Quick, get some water for her. Frances, are you all right?” Oriole asked as Frances began to stir. “I’m so sorry. You must have experienced a shock. Did you recognize the woman?”
“I’m going to be sick again. I must have fainted. What are you doing with a picture of Lisa on your camera? Is this a joke? That can‘t be Lisa. She can‘t be dead. She just can‘t be.”
Oriole stepped back, looked at the digital camera closer, and realized she had not even looked at the deceased while upstairs. It was Fred’s turn at the autopsy and Oriole had been busy directing traffic inside the house. The photo was of Lisa Wood, Summer’s and Frances’ friend.
“Well, that answers one question. Now why don’t you answer the rest?” Fred spoke over the top of Frances’ head to Oriole.