CHAPTER 1
The audience has stopped applauding, the last line of script has been spoken, the camera has stopped rolling, and the theater is now empty. Bad way to end upnaked and dead on her bathroom floor. Sexy Myrna Moya. Famous movie star of former times. Somebody wanted her dead. Who? Why? Obvious questions to be answered before we can solve the murder. Motive? These are the things that me and my partner have to find out.
In the bathroom, on the floor, just behind the toilet, by the head of the victim, someone had left a very curious token, a pink towel. Light pink . . . with short fringe on the bottom. What significance could that be to this murder? It was folded neatly, once down the middle, and then in thirds. Odd folding pattern too. Weve seen a lot of tokens left behind by killers through the years, but never one as meaningful as this one, or so says the forensic shrink, Dr. Lipstein. She says its a signature of sorts. It makes a statement for the murderer. It says Ive been here. Ive had my say and you dont know how to find me. Nobody else did this but me. I did this! Sicko. What could he or she be saying with a folded pink towel? Intriguing.
The murder scene was void of any other obvious clues. Spotless and sanitized. The medicine cabinet mirror was sparkling. Inside the cabinet there were numerous drug containers. The victim must have been ill. The walls were nurse-stark-white. Like the inside of a full milk container. The toilet seat was turned down, closed. Hhummm. Maybe someone was sitting on it. The walls were dry, not moist from running water as though the victim was about to take a bath or a shower. Nothing that would give us a clue about anything.
The victim doesnt tell us anything either. She doesnt scream, look at these bruises! There arent any bruises. Doesnt say, see, my neck has been broken, my spine is contorted. Nothing. The victim just stares at me through closed eyes, begging me to find out who was so unforgiving, so unmerciful as to end her life in such unceremonious circumstances. The victim only shouts, Help! through silent lips.
Killer must be a pro. Seems that he was confident and purposeful. Strong too, with powerful arms to be able to place the victim so meticulously. First impressions lead me to think that she was killed first and then placed here on the bathroom floor. That would account for the lack of evidence of a struggle. It appears that she knew the perpetrator and he must have made a surprise move when he killed her because she made no resistance.
Well, criminals with this much brazen usually slip up sooner or later. Although there are still a small number of cases in our unsolved files, cold files as theyre called, I still do my best daily to keep that number from increasing. Every victim is personal to me and my partner. We dont close a file, we keep on looking and digging. I feel like I owe it to the deceased. Thats the way I see it.
Dr. Lipstein, criminal psychiatrist, says that this particular token, the pink towel, is significant because of its uniqueness. Its a brand new towel and its pink and its folded in thirds. The towel could be a symbol of home and contentment, of touchy-feely experiences, or maybe lack of them in the perpetrators life; a pink towel could also represent a warm feminine touch. Maybe the perp had a romantic fixation on the victim. Or the towel could have been left there to put the investigation on the wrong path. So many possibilities. Fertile ground for speculation, which is not a good aspect of investigation. One has to be as sure as possible of the circumstantial evidence. Juries want facts, physical evidence, and motive. Juries want hard proof, not speculation.
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When we arrived at the murder scene, the area had been cordoned off for us by the local police department. The town is a small enclave just north of a big metropolis. Retired entertainers and such buy up the wooded land and carve out a haven for themselves up here. A few move up here for a short while, and then go back downstate into the city they fled because they cannot stand not being recognized. They had thought they wanted peace and quiet, but find out they really crave the attention of their former show business careers. And then there are those who remain up here because they really do want to melt into the naturalness and haven-like surroundings of peaceful existence. Such is the case of the present victim.
This home is fabulous. Its in Grovertona small hamlet of outside Greatville. No malls or urban sprawl here. The wealthy citizenry still maintain a tight hold on the surrounding areas. They dont like outsiders to move in. They consider anyone who isnt in show business an outsider. The butler said there are six bedrooms upstairs in the large house. A suite is occupied by the victim on the third floor and one by the husband on the second floor. The other four bedrooms are empty, except when guests arrived, which is not often.
Miss Myrna liked her privacy. She usually didnt have friends to stay overnight on visits; maybe on holidays, said Mae, the maid. She was a talker.
All those names on her Christmas list and none were what I would call her friends. We make a big production every year writing what seems to me to be hundreds of Christmas cards. We have to take them to the post office in boxes. Me and her at the dining room table. She addresses envelopes and signs the cards while I put the cards in the envelopes. Big production.
Miss Myrna keeps all those names on her computer. She prints out those names and addresses and we sit there for hours writing Christmas cards.
Does she receive a lot of cards from her friends?
Not nearly as many as she sends. But she keeps on sending themyear after year. Mae is finally finished telling the Christmas card story.
So she doesnt have many friends who visit her?
Yeah, thats right. Miss Myrna keeps to herself. I was surprised when she took up with Mr. Charles and then married him. Ill never understand that. I just cant believe that shes gone. Mae breaks down and sobs. Interesting information from the maid. Ill have to explore that.
The living quarters for the house staff were in the basement and very comfortable. There were four bedrooms down there, a recreation room and a full size bathroom. All three of the household staff had their own apartments in town, but could stay in their rooms here anytime they wanted. Most of the time they did remain here in the big house, as they called it.
The front of the house had a drive-around-road that led directly to the front door. The passengers could get out and the driver would go on to park on the side of the house or in the garage. The back yard was larger than I could walk around in a whole day, which just goes to showeven your money cant protect you from being murdered. Sometimes money is the express cause of it.
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