James paced outside the court room. Sheriff Charles Marcus slipped quietly through the door and passed to the waiting James. Marcus was a small man with a round head with perfectly parted white hair atop it. He wore his green sheriff’s uniform every day and it never seemed to wrinkle. The worried look he wore did not suit him, and he spoke in a quick light voice.
“Well you better tell me what’s going on.”
“Some one called in a dead body at the Primo Italian Restaurant off of the highway. Deputies Keen and Kern arrived and verified, they are sealing off the scene now. Coroner is on the way.”
“Then why aren’t you?” the sheriff looked a little put out.
“I wanted to get deputy Moss; he needs to learn how to handle a dead body.” James lied a little, moss could have joined him later, but James wanted something else from the sheriff.
“Are you sure you weren’t looking for this?” Sheriff Marcus held up a crinkled copy of the New York Times, and James sighed at seeing it. “It’s still there you know, 25 weeks on the best sellers list. One more week and you are obligated to do a book tour for your publisher.” The sheriff laughed a little at this.
“Not so loud.” James glanced around to make sure no one heard.
“If you didn’t want anyone to know you shouldn’t have written it,” The sheriff giggled a little as he tossed the paper over to James, “Or picked a better pen name. Or not have written about people you know. You know my wife has 3 copies at the library, can’t keep them checked in. what do you think would happen if she found out you wrote it?” James was fuming now. “One more week on the best sellers list and it will be out of your hands. Now get going, I’ll send moss just as soon as he is finished testifying.” Just then the doors to the court room opened and a handful of people came wandering out. At the back was a large African American male, 6 foot 3 inches, 220 pounds, all muscle, and no hair. Deputy David Moss was a very determined looking 24 year old, and he was the only candidate in the sheriff’s department looking to become an investigator. The sheriff waved him over. “Just in time Moss, we got a dead body called in, James here is going to take you over and show you how it’s done.”
Moss nodded and let out a “yes sir,” while the sheriff patted him on the arm and walked away.
“Well David,” James had a bad habit of using peoples first name, and he knew it annoyed Moss, “why don’t you drive with me and I’ll fill you in on the way.”
Primo Italian Restaurant is located just off of Highway 128 about 3 miles west of the county line. It was the only fine dinning restaurant within a 60 mile radius. It is located in an old mansion home which sits on a plot of land surrounded by 100 year old live oaks, about a ¼ mile back from the highway. The owners, who had opened the place about 7 years ago, had turned a draft old home into a beautiful eatery with gardens, valet parking, and a zagot star. People had been known to drive all the way from
When they pulled up to the restaurant there were a handful of official vehicles waiting for them. Deputies had arrived to help Keen and Kern rope off the scene and round up employees as they showed up for work. As James got out of his Jeep, Deputy Jack Keen, a stocky balding man in his 30s came tromping up. He had a pocket notebook in his hands and was flipping pages finding the beginning of his notes since arriving on the scene.
“What do you got Jack?” James asked as he pulled a crime scene kit from his back seat.
“The dead body is the owner sir, Mark Phillips; he was also the chef here. He was found in the kitchen around 9:30 when the gardener noticed the open kitchen door. He called it in.” James was walking towards the door now and keen and Moss were right on his heels. “No signs of forced entry and no discernable prints on the handle.”
James was at the door now staring in; there was a full service kitchen beyond the threshold, butcher block counter tops, white tile floor, and a dead body lying in a pool of blood. Its head had been bashed in from behind, lots of blood; it made James a little uncomfortable. On the counter above the body a cast iron skillet, it had a pool of blood around it too. James pointed to that.
“We are pretty sure that did it sir, got some good prints off it too. If you want to go in and take a look we been entering through the dining room to preserve this scene sir.” James surprised to hear this and complemented Keen on his thinking.
“Come on David, let’s go in and see the body and hear the rest of what Jack has to tell us.”
The dining room was classic Italian restaurant, red and white checked table cloths, candles in wine bottles, James was not really impressed, and that is until he took a closer look. “These table cloths feel like Egyptian cotton.” He exclaimed.
“And those wine bottles go for $450 each. And they just stick candles in them.” Keen was indicating a frame on the wall. James went over and saw that it was the Zaggot review for the restaurant. It claimed that the restaurants charm came from its classic appearance created with high fashion elements. James was angry that he knew what that meant and he grumbled a little.
Entering the kitchen from the dining room, James, moss and Keen all slipped on pairs of latex gloves. “How much time have you spent with the body?” James asked.
“Almost none sir, Kern and I responded to the call. Checked to make sure he was dead, pulled his wallet for ID, Kern roped the place off while I started taking prints from the regular places.”
“Sir,” it was moss this time he was on the other side of the body all ready and kneeling down towards it. “There’s a shoe print here in the blood, and something about this blood is …” James was by him now leaning down.
“It’s different; you’re right, thinner, and watery. Good work David. Is this your print Jack?”
Keen leaned over the body to get a look, “I don’t think so sir, and Kern was never this close to him, I didn’t notice it before, but I really wasn’t looking.”
“It’s all right Keen, is there anything in else in that note book I should hear?”
“Yes sir.” Keen piped up excitedly. He hurried over to the back door and started to close it, as it came away from the inside wall it reveled a spectacular mess behind it. It looked like someone had thrown two entire spaghetti dinners, complete with meat balls and garlic bread on the wall. There was an assortment of broken porcelain to back up the claim.
“Well hello dolly.” James let it slip as the excitement got to him. People do not just throw spaghetti dinners on walls without a reason. Sometimes people knocked in the heads of others without reason, but not throw food. This was not random, this was a fight. This, thought James, had just gotten really interesting. He realized he was smiling and quickly wiped it off his face.
“Sir,” it was Moss again. James turned to see him drifting towards a large sink at what looked like a dishwashing station. James came over to him a looked down to where Moss was indicating. There was a pot, pan, colander and an assortment of utensils, all unwashed and all covered in marinara sauce. James turned quickly and saw what he was afraid of. There on the counter was a white rag. Mark Phillips was cleaning up when his attacker struck. It would have been easy for the attacker to clean up any evidence without worrying about wasting any time.
“Jack, bag that rag and have it tested for blood. Then get Kern in here and keep checking for prints. David and I are going to set up out here in the dining room for a while see if we can find out why any body would want Mark Phillips dead.”
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