Best Defense - Randy Rawls Page 0,1

roll her over, but knew that would be stupid. The police would not appreciate my messing with their crime scene.

Her husband. Could he still be in the house? I whirled around, my eyes digging into every corner. No one there, but I saw only one of the twenty or so rooms that made up the Hammonds’ mansion. I took my pistol out of my purse, then set off to ensure I was alone—or that no one wishing me harm was there.

While searching the lower level, I called nine-one-one and reported my discoveries. The operator told me to meet the police out front, but I ignored her. If someone was in the house, I wanted to know.

In a large pantry off the kitchen, I found the maid. She, too, was dead. From the marks on her neck, my guess was someone had strangled her. As I completed my trip around the downstairs, I heard a noise from the front of the house, then a call of, “Police. Anyone here?” I took a deep breath and started toward the front room.

The cops met me in the hall with the obligatory order to drop my weapon and assume the position against the wall. I complied and a young patrolman named Johnson explored areas I preferred not touched by a stranger. However, I understood. I’d have done the same if I had found anyone during my search, and I wouldn’t have concerned myself about his or her private parts.

Once he finished, I showed my PI credentials. “Before this goes too far, I suggest you go after the victim’s husband. His name is John Hammonds, and he’s an attorney with Hammonds, Perches, and Ballson in Fort Lauderdale.”

“And why should I do that?”

“Because,” I said, frustration setting in, “she hired me to catch him with one of his women. She was going to divorce him and clean out his bank accounts. From the look of things, he figured it out and took care of the problem.”

Johnson said, “Sorry, your hunches aren’t enough for me to act on. You’ll have to save it for the detectives. They should be here soon. Anyone else in the house?”

“I didn’t make it upstairs, but I found another body.” I told him about the maid. “She must have seen him, so he killed her also. I’m telling you, the sooner you arrest the husband, the quicker you close the case.”

“Like I said, ma’am, that’s the detectives’ call. Now, if you’ll just wait out front with Officer LaBelle, I’ll secure the scene.” He walked me to the front door.

On the lawn, I repeated my plea to LaBelle. Same results. Someone had given them specific instructions about their duties at a homicide scene, and I assumed they had scored high in that class.

That left me nothing to do but exercise patience—again—so I walked to my car, climbed in, fired it up, and started the air conditioner. Mom always said you don’t have to practice to be miserable. Standing in South Florida’s blazing sun equaled miserable. Sitting in an air-conditioned car equaled better. No contest.

I took the surveillance report out of my briefcase. A wasted effort. No one now to deliver it to. I spent a few minutes feeling sorry for the lost fee, sorry for myself.

But if I thought my day was bad, it hit rock bottom when the unmarked police car came to a stop behind me. I may have steamed up my rearview mirror when Detectives Dick Bannon and Major Sargent got out. I knew them. They knew me. I had no respect for them. They didn’t like me. And those were the parts of our relationship you could mention in mixed company.

They didn’t look any different from the first time I saw them—or the last time. They were both six-footers, give or take an inch. Dark blue off-the-rack suits that showed the wear and tear of the street. However, the clothing didn’t really matter, they just carried an aura of cop. Maybe it was the squint of their eyes or the way they walked. I couldn’t identify it, but they may as well have worn their badges on their foreheads.

Bannon tapped on my window. When I lowered it, he said, “Well, Ms. Bowman, so nice to see you again. I understand we have another homicide with your fingerprints on it.”

“Not exactly,” I said. “You have a homicide. I’m just the citizen who found the bodies.”

“So I heard. Let’s find some place we can sit and talk. This sun is too