Murder on the Rocks by Clara Nipper

Author:Clara Nipper [Clara Nipper]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781626396012
Google: f_vUjwEACAAJ
Amazon: B01D8QKHHS
Goodreads: 29387775
Publisher: Bold Strokes Books
Published: 2016-04-12T03:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY

The scene was still lurid with generators and floodlights and police tape and cruisers parked so their headlights shone to light the scene.

They had secured the house and yard and the thousand square yards of field behind the house. I had spoken to the first responders, and they only guessed at taping off the field because there was no evidence to suggest how the killer left. The ice was so thick and hard that footprints and tire prints just didn’t show up.

I left the team to wrap up and I just started walking. I removed my right leather glove so I could light my Zippo, which was key to my detective skills. I began by walking around the outside of the house. I know the team had already looked, but this was a hunch and part of my process, so I inspected windows and shrubbery and sidewalks and garage doors and rooflines. My flashlight was losing power, so I borrowed a fresh one from a rookie. Then I walked the perimeter of the yard, flicking my Zippo with my right hand and sweeping the light beam with my left. The ice underfoot was iron hard, but rough, so it wasn’t slick. I found a pair of luxury dogs shivering in a pile of brush. They had been tied to the fence and their snouts were bound with duct tape.

I knelt, removed my Swiss army knife from my pocket, sliced off the tape, cut the leashes, and gathered the terrified dogs into my coat. They shivered and whined. I was surprised they just hadn’t been shot outright, which is what usually happened to animals at a crime scene.

I carried the dogs to the house where the last officers were overseeing the coroner as he removed the bodies.

“Look what I found.” I presented the dogs by unzipping my coat and their heads, matted with ice, poked out.

“Bichon and Llasa!” Officer Magnuson said, coming close to hold them.

“You know their names?” I asked.

“No, genius, they’re purebred,” Magnuson said as he picked ice balls out of the fur between their toes. “I have some just like this. I’ll take them home.”

“Good man.” I clapped him on the shoulder. Thank goodness there were so many animal lovers because death by accident, homicide, suicide, or natural causes, resulted in a lot of suddenly homeless and frequently traumatized animals that had to be euthanized after spending a sad week at the shelter.

I returned to the spot where I had found the dogs and noticed some fibers on the privacy fence. I called for an investigator to collect that as evidence while I climbed over the fence and dropped to the other side. Even dropping six feet from the top of the fence didn’t break the ice on impact.

I walked the perimeter of the field, not finding anything further. But my Zippo said to go for the woods. So I chose a likely trail and kept walking. About half a mile in, I saw blood. I radioed for backup and had to put my Zippo back in my pocket so I could approach with my Glock drawn.

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