The detective couldn’t help but laugh before he answered Reilly’s query. As he looked down at his blood covered hands, his voice became unsteady. Winslow carefully replied to the coroner by saying, “I haven’t killed anyone this time.”
From the other end of the line there was a bit of a sigh and the sound of a coat rustling.
“But I’m sure that someone has died because what other reason would there be to call a coroner,” Reilly paused.
In the background, Winslow could hear Reilly talking to his wife about packing a lunch box and what he wanted in his coffee. He set his own receiver down on the counter to turn the coffee pot on. The detective nearly dropped the precious china cup that he took down from the cabinet upon realizing just how expensive their “normal” set was. One saucer was probably worth more than a week’s rent for his entire apartment.
“Winslow!”
The faint shout came from the receiver and Winslow raced back to the phone to talk to the coroner.
“Winslow, are you there or just costing me a fortune on purpose?”
“I’m here, Brian. I’ll get you off the line before your wife decides to murder you.”
There was the rustling of paper once again as Reilly stated, “That would be much appreciated. Now whose house do I have to show up at this time with my case?”
Winslow hesitated as he thought about how to explain the situation. The doctor had just been at the Johnson house two days ago and probably wouldn’t be a fan of coming back anytime soon.
“It’s at the Johnson house. The butler has committed suicide,” the detective explained as he looked out into the gathering amount of cops in the hallway, completely surprised that they had arrived so soon.
There was only silence from the other end of the line, followed by another sigh and Reilly quietly saying, “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Thank-”
The other end of the line cut off before Winslow could get his message of thanks out to the coroner. He carefully hung up his receiver and then went back to the steaming pot on the open flame. The chosen delicate piece of china was seated on the counter top like a customer on a lunch counter.
“Oh don’t look at me like that,” the tired detective whispered to the piece of glassware.
Moments after uttering the words, the detective realized his complete lack of sleep and Winslow barely waited for the coffee to cool in his cup before he let the scalding black liquid run down his throat. Within a few sips, he found his ability to set the cup down and walked into the main hallway in his blood covered state.
Without any prompting from the patrol officers, the detectives and crime scene technicians, the detective confidently greeted them with, “Good morning, gentlemen. The body is right upstairs in the butler’s bathroom.”
If anyone from the gallery had any commentary on the body upstairs or the blood on the detective’s clothing, they didn’t make their thoughts known. Winslow gave out a few quick sets of directions, giving a summary of the situation, and turning back to his own dire situation.
Reilly’s chief assistant medical examiner was the only one to speak and he asked, “Is there anything else we should know about the state of the body, Detective Smith?”
In an effort to protect the dignity of Mr. O’Keefe, Winslow pulled the medical examiner aside. In a hushed voice he explained, “Once you go into the bathroom, make sure to cover the butler immediately with a sheet and guard the body until Reilly gets here.”
“Is it a sensitive situation, Winslow?”
“Very sensitive,” the detective answered while nodding. The assistant medical examiner gave him a quick nod and an even quicker “okay” before walking away.
As an entire troupe, the crime scene detectives marched up the stairs with their cases and a sheet draped gurney. A few detectives dispersed throughout the house to hunt down the members of the staff while other detectives and a majority of the patrol officers.
One of the few men left behind was Officer Morgan, who quickly pulled the detective to the side of the main hallway. He tipped back his hat as he looked Winslow directly in the eye and asked, “Winslow, could I have a word with you?”
“You’ve already pulled me off to the side of the room and asked a question, Abe, so you seem to have already had a word with me.”
“I don’t think this is the time and place to be making jokes like that, Detective Smith.”
As if to remind Winslow of the time and the place that they were in, Morgan very obviously pointed his chin at the staircase and then returned to staring Winslow down. He just wasn’t sure where the young patrol officer was trying to stare him down to, certainly not to either of their knees. Because as Morgan had just explained it was neither the time nor the place.
“Detective Smith! I don’t know what is on your mind to be smiling like that but I would have thought you were better than the rest of them.”
Winslow looked back into the eyes that were so intently focused on his own and mumbled a generic reply. He gathered his wits for another few seconds before asking, “So what did you want to ask me about, Morgan?”
“Well…”
“Well what?”
“Will you interview Mrs. Johnson and the maid this time? They’re in the library and I tried to interview them but it just didn’t work.”
“I’ll interview them and as a favor to you, I’m going to recommend you stay out of the butler’s bedroom.”
The detective gave the patrol officer a quick hidden peck on the cheek as he agreed to do the interview and then walked off to the other side of the hall. It was just a few quick steps across beautiful carpets to explain a great tragedy.
Winslow approached the open library doors with the teary eyed Mrs. Johnson inside and stepped forward to begin the interview. He turned quickly on his heel, locking the door right after he shut it, and then gathered his nerves to say, “Mrs. Johnson, we need to have a chat.”
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