Murder My Love Read Online Free PDF Page A

county hospital morgue to perform the gruesome task of conducting an autopsy. He reasoned that transferring the bodies to Hartford and commuting each day would take up too much of his time. The Hartford morgue was overwhelmed and Kruger wanted to collect as much data as soon as possible. He knew that time was of the essence, that most crimes were solved quickly when data was collected expeditiously. Although the cause of death was somewhat obvious, it was his responsibility to catalog the evidence and the exact cause of death of both victims. This way he could refute any objection that a defense attorney might make, should the case ever go to trial. It appeared to some observers that all he needed to do was retrieve the bullet slugs and take tissue samples. Several policemen voiced opinions that an autopsy was a waste of time, as the crime scene could not have made the cause of death more obvious. Their objections had fallen on deaf ears, as none had any significant homicide experience. Dr. Kruger was most patient with their nattering. He was a meticulous pathologist who had been on the job for over three decades and was well versed in forensic science. He took nothing for granted. On his first full day after he had inspected the crime scene, he sat at his office desk pouring over the photographs.
    Wilson strode directly to Kruger’s office. She stood at his desk for a moment quietly observing him.
    “Anything I should know about?” Wilson asked.
    “Not really. Just studying the pics,” Kruger replied.
    “What are you looking for? You visited the crime scene. You saw it first hand,” she persisted.
    Kruger looked at her for an instant and returned his gaze to the photo before him. His disinterest in conversation irritated Wilson but there was no recourse. Kruger was in charge of this aspect of the crime, at least for the time being. Wilson lingered by his desk, perhaps to engage the doctor but certainly to send a message that she was displeased. She took notice of Kruger’s gray curly unkempt hair and tried to assess his age. His rumpled clothes betrayed an indifference to style. Kruger still wore thick horn-rimmed glasses that bore the style of a bygone era. His shirt was wrinkled and ill fitting. His trousers were absent a crease. She couldn’t see his shoes that were tucked under the desk but imagined they were not polished. Wilson wondered if Kruger was up to speed and if he possessed the competence to assess the clues this case demanded. At last, Kruger looked up. “Have you learned anything more, Chief?”
    Wilson shrugged. The question put Wilson on the defensive. It had effectively dismissed her without being rude. Wilson had yet to learn anything from her staff. “I’m meeting with my staff after roll call but I wanted to see you first,” she offered.
    “You may have to call in the Cavalry, Chief.”
    “You mean the State Police?”
    “Precisely.”
    “I’ll hold off as long as possible,” she replied. “I’m confident we can solve this one.”
    “Your call,” he said as he returned to studying his photographs.
    “The only call I’m making is to the District Attorney.”
    Wilson walked out of the room and returned to her office. She had barely passed the doorjamb when Officer Huff approached her. He seemed to fill the doorway. Huff appeared larger than usual. His uniform was always wrinkled no matter how well his wife starched and pressed it. His shirt collar was askew. His belt buckle was slung under his bountiful belly, his weapon dangling almost to his knee. When he walked he resembled a scoop of Jell-O in the bottom of a bowl. It was impossible to determine in which direction his belly, jowls, arms and legs would move. Were it not that he was soon to retire, he would have been severely reprimanded or, at least, ordered to go on a diet. He waddled up to the Chief and stood in front of her, impeding her progress.
    “What is it now, Huff?”
    “I know the female victim.”
    “And how do