The Gumshoe Diaries Read Online Free PDF

mother
always said.
    Anyway, next came the queer part for me,
nosing around in Sally’s drawers. Snooping through people’s private
areas always makes me blush, especially women, and the fact that I
knew Sally and her family just made the experience all the more
exasperating. I left her chalk outline behind me and wandered down
the short hall to her dark bedroom. It smelled like you’d expect a
young ladies room to smell, fresh and clean, with a hint of
whatever body lotion she was fond of; in Sally’s case it was
definitely jasmine. However, I have to admit that I was surprised
at the stark contrast between her bedroom and the rest of the
apartment. Let’s put it this way, if this were an episode of “The
Odd Couple” her bedroom could only belong to Oscar Madison. It was
like ground zero, clothes strewn everywhere, mixed here and there
with a couple dozen pairs of shoes, a colorful assortment of hair
scrunchies, an impressive collection of lace, and satin
undergarments, at least two brands of feminine hygiene products,
some odd pairings of this and that accessories, and, what appeared
to be the remains of a PB & J sandwich? Strange things went on
in here but none of it had anything to do with her murder.
Apparently the girl was just a textbook P-I-G pig!
    Ignoring the mess I continued on with my
careful and professional sweep of the premises. If this truly had
been her actual residence and not just a place to meet her johns , it would have something to tell me. People are
laziest at home when it comes to keeping secrets; at least that’s
been my experience over 25 years as a detective, with and without a
shield. Slowly I swept the room with my trusty two dollar
flashlight from Home Depot, and looked for signs of Sally’s killer.
Methodically I snooped through each drawer of the black lacquer
dresser that rested against the wall opposite the foot of her king
sized bed. Actually, I’d seen one exactly like it at IKEA a week or
so ago on one of my rare shopping excursions. I had been looking
for an armoire to supplement the lack of closet space in my small
flat, but settled on a wicker hamper when I discovered there was
assembly required on the trendy over priced furniture. Removing the
drawers one at a time, I emptied contents and sifted through each
of them carefully and then checked underneath for any surprises. I
did the same with the night stands that flanked the bed and then
the vanity table in the corner of the room near the master bath.
Nothing! There was literally nothing obvious to question or
to build a theory upon? I had to assume that the CSI team had
already collected everything they thought relevant, so I was left
with what was left behind and the pile of stuff on the bedroom
floor, nice!
    The bathroom was even emptier than the
refrigerator, not even a toothbrush, so that meant this was likely
just a place to conduct business, monkey business perhaps, but
business nonetheless. Still, I studied every square inch of the
small bathroom on the off chance that the crew before me had been
rushed or sloppy and had left behind something helpful. As luck
would have it, they might have as I pulled another blue thread from
the bottom of the shower curtain. The corner of the curtain had
been folded over and apparently nobody took the time to peel it
back and find the prize. That was a break for the good guys, namely
yours truly. It didn’t mean much now, but it might. For now it just
meant that someone wearing blue cotton material had been in both
the living room and the master bathroom. The living room was no
blaring siren but the master bathroom insinuated either a trusted
or maybe an intimate relationship with Sally. In any event it was
curious enough to study further. I placed the new thread into a new
baggie and got up to exit the room. I took a step and paused for a
ten count. The shower curtain had been wet, ergo; someone had
either used the shower or utilized it? I walked over and slid open
the curtain