The Overlooked Clue

It was not a good morning for Adriana Martin, the youngest, if not the most reluctant winner of the Madison Heights Detective of the Year Award given by the local chamber of commerce. Some believed that she won the award as an honorary-we-need-a-woman-to-win-once-in-awhile-to-show-we-are-as-progressive-as-any-other-city. Of course there were a few who believed she won because of her uncanny ability to solve cold case crimes. Adriana on the other hand thought the award was a farce and why should anyone win an award for doing their job? She did not believe that she did anything special other than to pay attention to the details.

This morning she arrived at the scene of a death. An elderly woman had passed away. Not usually her type of assignment but with the award ceremony that evening the mayor had insisted that her boss Chief Summers, assign her to light duty.

“I know you, Addie,” Chief Summers told her in his office two weeks earlier, “once you get your head in a case you won’t stop for anything and it’s important that you be there to accept that award.”

She was not happy about the situation but at the same time there was a time line and she could tough it out one more day.

It was a lovely morning for December. There was crispness to the air but no bitter cold. The sun was shinning brightly and a light breeze blew wisps of dark hair from her face. She stretched as she emerged from her car and removed her blazer throwing it over the passenger seat. She clipped her badge to the waistband of her skirt, ran her hands down her hips to smooth out the wrinkles while she inspected the outside of the house.

It was an old country house probably built back in the forties or fifties. The front porch stretched three-fourth of the way around the house. It was dirty and needed painting; even the chimney seemed to sag to the side. Along the porch though were perfectly arranged flower beds, shrubs and small ceramic angels.

Adriana inspected the image as she walked to the porch. It was like a pixie had decorated a horror movie house; rotting wood on the frame of the house and lively pink flowers growing in the window box.

Stepping onto the front porch was dangerous as Adriana soon learned. Her first step was fine but as she bore weight on her right leg and brought her left onto the porch the wooden plank gave way allowing her two-inch heel to pierce through. She tried to catch herself as she lurched forward and then to the side like a comical marionette with broken strings but the best she could do was fall against one of the patrol cops exiting the front door.

“Careful Detective,” the cop offered. He steadied her as she pulled her heel from the hole. Two other patrolmen were lingering inside the doorway snickering at her plight. “It gets trickier inside.” He handed her a clipboard. “Not much to see looks like the old woman died of natural causes.”

She glared at the young patrolman but said nothing, he was probably just over zealous as she was when she started. Not like these yahoos lingering in the doorway of her crime scene.

They stepped back as she entered. She paused in the doorway and glared at them. “Officer,” she called over her shoulder to the one who had handed her the clipboard.

The young officer turned back and hurried to her call, “Yes Ma’am?”

“What is your name?”

“Officer Pittman, Ma’am.”

“Officer Pittman, do you know these idle vagrants in my crime scene?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Office Pittman motioned his head to the cops as instructions to get out of her way.

“Stay with me Officer Pittman,” she stepped into the foyer as the other cops slipped past her and hurried off the porch. “What’s your first name?” She was looking around the entrance way and he wasn’t sure she was addressing him at first.

When he realized she was waiting for his name he cleared his throat and answered, “Rick.”

Rick Pittman was well aware of her statue in the department. The clout she carried was equal to and sometimes better than that of Chief Summers. He also knew that working with her would be a great advantage to his career. He followed her as she inspected the stairs.

“Have you got a flashlight?”

Officer Pittman reached for the flashlight on his belt and handed it to her. She shone it on the stairs. The inside of the house was dark and very dusty. She watched as dust particles danced in the light stream shinning on the step.

“Why is it so dark in here?”

“Not sure ma’am,” Officer Pittman leaned over her left shoulder inspecting the same step she stared at. He hoped to see what had caught her attention. All he saw were footprints in the lingering dust.

The room where the coroner inspected the body was to the right of the entrance. It was dark and very dusty. Heavy curtains hung loosely at the window. It took little effort for Adriana to tug and drop the dust-laden fabric to the floor. A cloud waffled up to her and she sneezed. Now it was the coroner’s turn to complain.

“Well you got your light, but what about the dust infecting my corpse? And how are you going to get fingerprints now?”

“I don’t need fingerprints.” Adriana moved closer to the body. “I can tell looking at the body who killed her.”

The coroner rose from his squat. “Oh?” he pulled off his latex gloves. “Who did it, Sherlock?”

Adriana smiled at him. “You did, Bob.”

Dr. Robert Monet’s smile faded. “You know Adriana, I do my best to overlook the fact that you are a woman but sometimes your attitude is nothing short of a rogue with a gun. Now if you don’t mind”, he picked up his black bag, shut it and started for the door, “I have work to do.”

“Officer Pittman,” Adriana called to the cop in the doorway. “Place Dr. Monet under arrest for the murder of…” she tilted the clipboard to read the victim’s name. “Sara Jeffries and place his medical bag in evidence.”

The cop stepped hesitantly in front of the doorway blocking the doctor’s exit.

“I will have your job over this,” he threatened. The cop grinned but did not move.

“You are allergic, are you not doctor?” Adriana stated.

“Addie, you know damn well I need my inhaler with me at all times. What does that have to do with anything?” Doctor Monet asked impatiently.

“What are you allergic to?”

The doctor blew out a deep breath. “All right, I’ll play your silly little game and then tonight I’ll inform the mayor of your behavior. Shellfish, peanuts, blueberries..”

“And dust?”

“Yes dust and about fourteen different types of pollens, so what?”

Adriana stepped back into the dingy room with her arms held out. “Dust,” she exclaimed. “It is everywhere yet you are not sneezing. You do not have watery eyes. You don’t seem to be suffering at all, Bob. Why is that?” The doctor ducked his head. “Could it be that you took an allergy shot this morning?”

“There are many morning when I take an allergy shot, so what?”

“Well, this morning you took an extra one that protects you against dust and you did that because you knew you were coming here, to Mrs. Jeffries’ home.” She moved closer to the body. “She looks like a sweet lady. Old, couldn’t keep up with the upkeep of her house but still taking care of the gardens. Her hands show the traces of dirt from her flower beds.” She was speaking softly as if to only speak to Mrs. Jeffries.

She stood and faced the doctor.

Bob Monet squared his jaw. He stared back at the detective with a cold steely glare. “You’re insane. Taking an allergy shot does not implicate me in a murder.”

“Ah, but this does.” Adriana walked back to the body. “Come here Bob. I want you to see this.”

Officer Pittman nudged the man in the back and he reluctantly stepped forward.

“According to Officer Pittman’s report which he handed me on the front porch, there is no apparent cause of death. No blunt trauma, no gunshot wound, no knife wound…nothing. Officer Pittman goes on in his details to report that a neighbor found the body and that you arrived shortly after the first call. Actually what the neighbor states is that you "appeared out of nowhere". He then talks about the condition of the house, the dust, the piled up newspapers, and the fact that no one has occupied the upstairs for sometime. Is that correct Officer Pittman?”

“Yes. The neighbor, Mr. Evans, reported that Sara Jeffries could not climb the stairs. She lived down here; the room beyond the stairs is her bedroom.”

“So, you were hiding upstairs until the cops arrived and then you just moseyed on down in the darkness and the confusion.”

“How did you get that, Detective?” The cop sounded impressed.

“Look at the footprints on the stairs.”

The cop turned and inspected the staircase, “Yep, plain as day.”

“In a dust laden house like this one Bob, it is so easy to leave footprints. And since no one goes upstairs it must be very dusty up there, enough to leave a marked trail down those steps. I’m sure your shoe imprints will match the ones on the stairs.”

"You are full of hot air, Martin. There were cops walking around in here all over this place. Hell, you had to throw them out yourself. Don't give me any more of your irrational deductions."

"True. But when you arrived you went straight to the body, right?"

"Of course, I did."

"Then why are your shoes covered on the top with dust?"

Monet quickly looked at his shoes. The tips, sides and even 1/4 inch of the top were covered in thick dust.

"And the trail leads from the stairs to the body," Adriana waved her hand to illustrate the direction of the footprints.

The coroner breathed noisily sucking air in through his nostrils and blowing out in deep gusts. He hands hung at his side. He opened and closed his fists in an effort to stretch his fingers and keep his blood circulating.

Adriana stepped closer to the body. “You poisoned her, Bob. See the blue around her lips and fingernails? Who was she, your patient or a relative?”

Bob Monet looked away, “My aunt. She was dying, there was nothing I could do for her but watch her suffer.”

Officer Pittman placed handcuffs on the doctor and led him to the porch passing him off to another cop. He went back in the house to the detective.

“Hey, the guys are here to take photos, can they come in?”

“Sure, I’m done.”

“Come on in, fellas.” Pittman issued the lab guys in as Detective Martin was leaving. He had to turn sideways for the lab boys to pass him but as soon as they cleared his path he hurried after her catching her elbow before she reached her car, “Detective Martin?”

“Yes?”

"How did you know all that? About the doctor, I mean. How did you put it together that fast?"

The cop was taller than her and to look up at him she had to shade her eyes from the sun.

Adriana was flattered. Most of the times she wasn’t taken seriously and here was young, good looking eager faced cop chasing her down because he was impress with her performance. For a moment she toyed with saying nothing, "Just between you and me, Pittman?"

"Sure," the young cop was going to learn the secret of her success. He stepped closer.

"I cheated," Adriana winked.

The cop pulled away, shooting her a quizzical look. “Yes Ma’am, I bet you did.” He held the car door for her as she settled in the driver’s seat.

“Rick, be sure to get another coroner down here to give a fresh look see,” she pulled the car door shut. “It wouldn’t do to go to court with the defendant being the witness against himself, now would it?”

He chuckled as she drove away, “No, ma’am it wouldn’t.”