The Wizard Murders Read Online Free PDF Page A

blond with poofy hair, bright pink lipstick and fake nails- pipes up with a Texas twang. "You mean from the barrio, southwest of 6th, across the tracks?"
     
    Pitt shoots Clarence a quick but significant glance, and restrains himself from pouncing on what he sees as the woman's idiocy. "No, madam, I do not mean... from the barrio."
     
    She shrugs, meekly, silently offering a "just trying to help" expression on her face, and turns back to her work, handling case files with what look like ridiculously fragile fingernails.
     
    "Clarence, what's this I heard on the radio, this 'deranged person' stuff? What exactly did you tell them, the press, aside from that statement I read?"
     
    Clarence sighs. "Yeah, I heard that, too... unless one of the respondin' officers just said somethin' in passing to the neighbors, I really don't know."
     
    Pitt lowers his voice. "Well, until we have an idea of what it is we're dealing with here, Clarence, I want a lockdown on all information. And I'm sure Chief Stevens will agree with me. I don't want people thinking we've got the Manson family on the loose or anything like that." He turns and heads for his office, and sees a stack of eight by ten glossies on his desk. "Jesus, Munsell didn't use the Alpha Beta Fotomat, did he?" They both allow themselves a grim chuckle.
     
    "I don't want to talk to anyone for the next half hour." He closes the door.
     
    Jesus, I appreciate the thoroughness, but it's almost overkill, isn't it? Pitt thinks as he starts thumbing through at least a hundred black and white photos of the crime scene. I mean, it's a lot, but it doesn't really have much evidentiary value. He's got 'em marked as long range views and overall views, he’s also got mid-range or medium views, and then he's got other views including the front of the house, with a series of shots that progress to the actual crime scene, ending with shots of the entire bedroom. I know it's the first homicide since '69, but come on- what am I supposed to do with this garbage? Where's the painting? Pitt thumbs furiously through the stack of photos until he finds what he's looking for- a detail of that menacing wizard. Dammit, did we get any color shots of that damn thing? Somebody really took their time with the painting, it was done with a really steady hand. The only sloppy part was the blood, the blood dripping down on the edges... they're deliberately trying to creep us out on that one. I've never been able to draw something to save my life... way back in high school, there was always that one kid in class who could really draw. Who did this? Why? Pitt feels his pulse pounding in anger. Is this a young person? An adult? Are they trying to mock us with their experienced hand- 'look what I can do, and I can take as much time as I want while doing it.' Is that wizard smiling or smirking? What have we got here... an odd-ball, a lone wolf? Was it even the same person who committed the crime that also did the painting, for Chrissake...?
     
    Pitt sighs in frustration and tosses the photos back on the desk. His eyes catch a box of Hostess donuts he'd left on the edge of his desk. He feels a twinge of guilt at even allowing himself to think of food. After a moment, he flips up the ragged top of the box that he'd torn open in hunger a few days ago and pulls out a sticky glazed donut, and allows himself a bite of stale but still satisfying sweetness. He stares into space, flicking bits of sugar off his fingers, and then notices a folded-up copy of the Record Gazette on top of a file cabinet. Nobody even mentioned what the paper had to say, he thinks. He grabs it, turns it over and reads the inch-high headline:
     
                                CHERRY VALLEY WOMAN SLAIN
     
    "Good morning, Inland Empire.
     
    "An unidentified young woman was found murdered in a home on Sunnyslope Avenue yesterday and an investigation involving local law enforcement as well as support from agencies in nearby