Expectation: A Francesca Fruscella Mystery

Chapter 1. Fünf Klavierstücke op. 23

chapter 1 Fünf Klavierstücke op. 23 Expectation 3 I. sehr langsam Investigation of murder involves the ability to recognize and articulate patterns: sometimes the patterns are spatial, evidence restricted to specific sites. Motifs of time require the detective to excavate and sift, fact often the wallflower , remains reluctant, outline blending into obscure background . Crimes of passion are the easiest to understand and solve: love, often wonderfully sweet, can leave horrific stains, blotting through white sheets, marks on paper indicting their author. After choking or stabbing, killers, now the aggrieved, are truculent, victims forced into self-protective acts. Patterns of psychopaths can frustrate the detective: in examining and comprehending deviance, often the investigator falters, comforting logic overwhelmed by true strangeness. Scenes of psycho-murder are the most difficult, with all gathering and analyzing futile initially, the design appearing 4 DeShell only in repetition, vanishing until a subsequent recurrence. The corpse is vital, a dominant component of the pattern . The body originates both the crime and the investigation : it’s the key signature to the piece. Motive is secondary, only a lesser component. Like a Brahms melody created through the demands of harmony, the motive can actually distract from recognition, leading the investigator down cul-de-sacs, allowing the more productive trails to cool. The corpse here, indeed everything first noticed, seemed to fit seamlessly into the affair-gone-wrong husband-primesuspect television stage set of the Oxford hotel room. The body, that of a tanned and toned woman in her wealthy thirties, was nude, tied spread eagle on the bed. A large plume of dried blood shocked the cream colored wall: both carotid arteries had likely been severed. “Detective.” “Detective.” “What are you doing here?” “I was in the neighborhood.” “This is my case.” “I know that. Don’t get nervous.” “I’m not nervous. Stay out of my way.” “If you need any help…” “I won’t. Stay out of my way.” While he turned abruptly, almost tripping over a technician , I surreptitiously, without gloves, examined her clothes—a nice size four Armani jacket suit and matching skirt—that were carefully folded and hung over the chair. He was right, it wasn’t my case, and I was in the way. But he’d never acted like that to me before. Expectation 5 I stepped closer. The flesh was firm: she pilatied and watched her diet. She undressed well, her skin was clear, limbs shaped and displayed for maximum effect. It hadn’t been enough: her killer had been unimpressed. He’d done nothing but cut her throat. He’d killed dispassionately, the knife slicing clinically, tissue parting and opening without resistance. She stretched out elegantly, too pampered to be someone’s woman kept. And didn’t that pose, stiffening, indicate clearly that she was a willing participant, expecting not dreading her partner’s return? “Leave. Now.” “The dick returns, abrasive.” “I don’t want or need your help.” ...