Chapter 3

"Jake, this better be worth it. Do you know what time it is?" asked Cassi entering the bedroom of the mansion and addressing the departmental medical examiner who was kneeling beside the virtually nude body.

"Now Cassi," grinned the slightly overweight fifty-four year old, "would I pull you out of bed at two am for just any old dead body?"

"It's after three am and I suspect you'd delight in spoiling my chance at a good night's sleep." Cassi didn't add that she and Linda had hardly been sleeping and probably wouldn't for some time after her return. "All right, what have you got?" she asked looking around fruitlessly for her partner.

"The vic is Katherine Fleming, twenty-seven, housewife. Husband is Russell Fleming, fifty-nine, a big wig industrialist."

"Got a C.O.D.?"

"No. There's not a mark on her other than some major inflammation of the labia."

"So she had sex tonight."

"Would appear so and pretty rough by the look of it. However, I'll have to get her back to the lab for an autopsy to be sure. I think we can rule out suicide," he said with a bit of irony, observing the crumpled, virtually nude position of the corpse.

"How about T.O.D.?"

"Well, it's strange, body temp tells me at least six to seven hours, but..."

"But what?" asked Cassi.

"There's no sign of hypostasis. Some signs of discoloration from blood pooling should be starting to show, but there's nothing. Strange."

"How about drugs?"

"Nothing I can determine here."

"You're just a regular fountain of information, aren't you?"

"Sorry."

Her voice was resigned. "Anything at all you can tell me?"

"She had a killer of a body," he said, grinning slightly as they both noticed the luscious breasts, hour glass figure and shapely legs.

"Pig," she chided, turning and addressing the uniformed officer standing by the door.

"Who's the owner of the house?"

"Uh, a Winston Travone," said the not-long-out-of-the-academy cop consulting his notebook.

"Okay, do we know who else was here?"

"That's where it gets rough. There was a big fund raising party here this evening -- about a hundred and fifty guests."

"Geez, just our luck. Where the hell is Detective Crawford?"

"I don't know. He was here a few minutes ago when they were taking the crime scene photos."

"Well, see if you can find him... wait, here he is."

Detective Larry Crawford sauntered through the doorway, his muscular frame partly hidden by the trench coat he wore almost constantly. He kidded that it made him look sleuthy. Cassi countered that it made him look like Columbo, that all he needed was a cheap cigar -- and that if he ever started smoking one, she would empty her Glock into him. Actually handsome, in a boyish way, he had an easy laugh and manner which instantly put people at ease. He was also a good detective.

"And how was your evening, Detective Taylor?" he asked tongue in cheek. Everyone was discreet but Cassi's live-in arrangement with Linda was common knowledge throughout the department.