Carolyn Arnold - McKinley 01 - The Day Job is Murder Read Online Free PDF

by Crime Scene Investigators so they could have better access.”
    “You might think I’m crazy for saying what I’m thinking.”
    “Sean, say it.”
    “Let me see the picture of Cunningham again.”
    “You still have it.”
    “Some days.” He shuffled the order of the photos to place Cunningham on top. “His left arm is the one to his side. See, how it’s slightly curled?”
    “Well, that’s not strange, really, is it? The hand, in a relaxed state, normally is.”
    “Yes, but what is even more interesting is the direction his arm is lying in.”
    Sara looked across the floor. “I don’t understand.”
    “I’ll get there. Crime Scene found fur on the floor, correct?”
    “That’s right. Results show it was fake fur used in making coats,” she said. “Another thing that didn’t line up with Burton. He didn’t have one. But what does this have to do with Cunningham’s hands?”
    “You’ve been shot. You’re in shock. You don’t know your assailant. You would try to appeal to them. The autopsy showed that even though Cunningham took the bullet to his chest, he didn’t die instantly.” Sean paced the entrance area and stopped for a second in the frame of the french doors. “Say you were shot, you would stumble backward. Your assailant wouldn’t want to be seen in an open doorway that faces the street—even if his back was to it. The boot prints tell us the killer came inside.”
    “Sean?”
    He held up his hand. If he stopped now, he’d lose his line of thought.
    “As the killer comes in, you  back up, but your steps are unbalanced. You reach out, instinctively, to the person who shot you, to help hold yourself up.”
    “I’m not sure where you’re going with this, Sean.”
    He walked over to the window.
    “I’m still not following,” she repeated.
    “The way his hand is curled, and the direction his arm is facing, Cunningham did come into contact with the shooter. He would have been just outside the doorway of the great room. Picture it in your mind. As Cunningham’s crumpling down, his fingers hook onto a coat pocket.” He paused, letting the imagery sink in. “By the way his hand is also palm up, Cunningham took something with him in the motion.”
    “You can tell all that from the way his hand looks and the direction of his arm?” Her eyes were electric when he met her gaze.
    “If the loveseat was here at the time, based on the way he fell,” his eyes went to where the mat would have been, right outside the french doors, “whatever came out of his assailant’s pocket could have slid across the floor.”
    “It would have gone underneath the loveseat.”
    “Exactly what I’m thinking.”
    “As we’ve noted, it’s been moved. If there was anything there, investigators would have found it.”
    “Not necessarily.” He pointed to the vent beneath the window. “When they moved it, whatever Cunningham may have pulled from the pocket could have fallen in there.”
    “Sean.” Sara rushed over and got down on her knees. She pulled off the grate and felt inside. She came out with a packet of white powder. “Damn, you’re good. You are Sherlock Holmes.”
    “I wouldn’t go that far, but okay, I’ll take it.” He laughed.
    “We’re looking for a killer who is also a drug addict.”
    “And we know that Cunningham didn’t do drugs.”
    “This was a case of mistaken identity.”
    “I believe so.”
    “Wow, Sean, you did it again.”
    “We did it, Sara.”
    “Not sure what I did to help this time.”
    “You listen.”
    “Well, I’m going to do better than that. You’ve got that appointment. I’m going to look into drug dealers in the area and see if anything stands out.”

    “What a great team we are.”

 

     
    The Estate Attorney
     
    THIS WAS THE SECOND TIME in Sean’s life that he’d sat in the waiting room of an estate lawyer’s office. The first came when his dad passed away, but he didn’t get much of an inheritance, if viewed in the monetary