Questions

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"I already told the police what I know!" The overweight woman shouted.
We were questioning Lionna Pryce, the lady who discovered the body of Jessica.

"Well we need you to say it again."

"This is the last time,"the woman declared, clearly irritated.
"I went to use the bathroom but the door wasn't budging. I pressed harder until it opened a bit. Through the crack of the door I saw a body laying there on the floor, a woman's. I called to her but I got no response. After that I ran back into the bar and shouted that a woman was unconscious in the bathroom. Turned out she was dead."

That last sentence was rather odd.

"Did you see anybody coming out of either bathrooms before you went in?" I flung the question.

"No," replied the lady.

"Did you notice anything unusual on or around the victim?"

"Not really but there was one thing." The lady hesitated.

"What was that?" I was getting edgy.

"Nothing, nothing it was just an orange piece of paper on the victim's body."

Orange piece of paper?

"Where is that paper ma'am?" Detective Patrick asked.

The lady face twisted in disgust. "Don't ma'am me! And it was thrown into the bin at the restroom. Hardly worth mentioning."

I got up from my seat having one thing and one thing on my mind only.

Find that damn paper.

*****************************

After the paper was retrieved from the bin I bagged it, careful not to touch it with my hands. It was a bit crumpled.

Patrick and I then went to talk to the husband of the victim.

His name was Derrick Walcott, an entrop who had an ice cream shop.
He had salt and pepper hair and a speckled face. He had a slight bugle in the middle which must be the consequence of eating too much of his business.

"Sir, do you know anyone who has anyone who would want to hurt you or your wife?" I asked the man after the formalities.

"Hurt my wife?" The man looked at us through red swollen eyes. "No, I don't. We are gentle folks, never said a mean word to anyone."

"Mr Walcott," I started. "I believe your wife was murdered."

"Murdered!" The grieving husband face twisted horribly. "No! That's not true." Derrick rested his head in his hands and wept.

Detective Sutherland kept quiet the entire time.

"Yes, she was murdered. I know this must be a lot to process but in order to bring your wife's killer to justice we need to know everything about your wife."

"I need a moment please Detectives." The widower said.

We gave the man half an hour to compose himself while I mentally prepared the questions.

"Did your wife make mention of anybody following her?"

"No." The man replied.

"Do you have any business rival or anybody who has a personal rival against you?"

Another no.

This continued on for a while, every question giving us a negative reply, until a breakthrough.

"Did you notice anyone following your wife in the bathroom?"

"Now that you mention it I did see a man get up shortly after her and went in the bathroom." The watery eyes of the man lit up. "Do you think he killed my wife?"

"No one said your wife was murdered. I said I think she was
We cannot make any assumptions as yet."

"Oh," the man looked broken.

"We'll be in touch Mr Walcott, sorry for your loss."

"What the hell was that?" Patrick asked as soon as we moved away from the man.

I hadn't told him about the red paper I found at the first crime scene.

"I think she was murdered and I also think Rachel was murdered, both by the same guy."

Detective Sutherland face fell and he gave me a deadpan look. "Are you stupid?

I was a bit taken aback by Patrick's bluntness.
"No my good sir." I said with a slight British accent.

I think it was time I shared my thoughts with my partner.

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