A Study in Sin Read Online Free PDF Page B

the floor covered in blood. His fists were clenched tight, and his arms and legs were peeling off in odd directions. It appeared as though he had been having some sort of seizure and had suddenly dropped dead in the middle of it, not allowing his body to come to rest. It stayed in that tense, buckled pose.
    The victim looked to be in his late forties, short, and carried a few extra pounds around his waist. He was dressed in a black suit, and a white collared shirt, both of which were too long for his short limbs. They only accentuated the ridiculousness of the way he looked in the photos.
    But the worst of it was the expression he wore. One of the photos was a picture of nothing but the man’s face. I’ve never seen anything like that and I doubt I’ll ever come across an image that matches. The look of pure, unadulterated rage and horror that was painted across the man’s features looked so outlandish that it was hard to imagine even a comic book character in the throes of death showing such emotion. The way his face was contorted, combined with the bluntness of his features and his bulging hate filled eyes, made him look more like an animal than a man.
    “The part you’re going to love is that, all this blood, none of it is the victim’s,” Lambert started.
    “You’re sure?” Remy asked.
    “Positive. We searched the entire body. I had the techs triple check. No gunshot wound, no stab wounds, not even a puncture wound from a needle. I’m thinking it’s the suspect’s. Maybe the victim had a weapon and didn’t go down without a fight. We’re going to check it for matches; maybe we’ll get a hit.”
    Remy slumped down, busy looking at the edges of some of the blood smears on the floor. Her fingers were her eyes as she poked, prodded, felt, and examined different spots on the wood floors. Those fingers were alive with action and bolted from one area to the next, while her eyes gave her a far off look, the same look I was accustomed to seeing when she would sit silently, deep in thought. The speed at which she worked was dizzying, and after only a short wait, she stood erect and looked directly at Lambert.
    “What else did you find?”
    “The lit flashlight was on the mantle there. That’s what caught the patrol officer’s attention. Nothing else was in the room. The victim’s name is Finton Cormack. He had a wallet and a phone on him. Wallet had a New York ID and a few credit cards, nothing else. We’re tracing the cards, and we’ll see if anything turns up. There was nothing else on him, not even a ball of lint in his pockets.”
    “His phone, did you search it?”
    “Yep. I went through everything I could but it doesn’t look like he used the phone much. No emails, a few searches for local bars, we’ll check on those later. But, he’s had seventeen missed calls in the last twelve hours, all from the same number. We’re pulling the call records, but I’m going out on a limb and saying the calls came from a man named James McKeague.”
    “Why do you think that?”
    “Because he’s got three text messages that he didn’t respond to from a man by that name. The first was a reminder to be at the airport on time, the others were asking where he was and why he wasn’t answering his phone.”
    “Anything else?”
    “Just one thing; when the guys came to take the body down to the morgue, a gold ring was underneath his right thigh.”
    Lambert pulled a plastic bag from his pocket. Remy quickly snatched the bag and opened it, holding the small ring up to the light.
    “This is a woman’s ring.”
    “I thought so too,” Lambert said.
    “There’s an inscription,” Remy continued, “CC.”
    She turned the simple ring over a few more times in her hand, placed it back in the evidence bag, and gave the bag back to Lambert.
    “I’d like to talk to the patrol officer that found the body.”
    “I don’t know Remy. You know how much trouble I could get in just for letting you in here.”
    “Come