Somehow it didn’t surprise Cindy. She felt there was a different route through which this crime would be solved.
Mattheus took photos of the stones on the street, lizards, walls, the angle of the sunlight. They walked together slowly up and down the lane, and then suddenly, something caught Cindy’s eye. It was over against the far wall, a scrap of paper the wind must have blown over, that got stuck between two rocks. She went over to it immediately and slowly pulled the paper out. A few words were scrawled on it, in a shaky hand. By now they had faded and were hard to make out.
“Look at this,” she said to Mattheus.
He turned abruptly. “What?”
“This paper. There are a few words written on it.”
Mattheus walked over and looked. “Doesn’t look like it says anything.”
“It does.” Cindy kept scrutinizing the paper, then folded it up neatly and put it in her bag.
Mattheus smiled, “we can’t grab at straws.”
“It’s a strange handwriting,” said Cindy. “Look at the strange slope of the letters, the shakiness of the hand. They’re calling out for attention. Whoever wrote this was in a bad state of mind.”
Mattheus was taken aback. “How do you know about that?”
“It’s amazing what you can tell about a person from the way they write,” said Cindy.
“It’s a giveaway, if you know what to look for. I want to compare this to Kendra’s hand. And maybe others.
“Smart,” said Mattheus and laughed. “What about me? Did you ever analyze my handwriting?”
Cindy laughed as well. She’d never thought about it. “Not yet,” she said.
“I’d better be careful,” Mattheus chuckled.
“What are you hiding?” Cindy laughed.
At that moment a large, black bird flew over them, cawing loudly. They both looked up swiftly and watched it fly by. Standing here at the crime scene she was flooded with all kinds of information, floating around in her mind. She began to wonder about Kendra, her true fears and desires, her hidden characters, compulsions and secrets. If you knew how to read a person, nothing was truly hidden.
“The question is why the killer chose this particular spot?” Mattheus murmured as he scanned it. “They might have some particular connection to it, could have been a regular visitor.
“They planned this out carefully,” Cindy mused. “This isn’t a spot you come to randomly. The body was heavy, it had to take at least two people to carry it here.”
“Reports claim the murder took place on this spot,” Mattheus reminded her.
“How could it have?” Cindy shook her head. “Paul died at around 5:30 p.m. It’s too busy and crowded here for this to happen during the day and no one notice.”
“Someone could have noticed and gotten out of here fast. People don’t like to get involved in trouble. Especially the locals,” said Mattheus. “In fact, someone could have been paid off, to keep their mouth shut. “I’m going to talk to the locals and merchants.”
“The police did already,” said Cindy.
“Maybe? But people don’t usually talk to police. They don’t want trouble, it’s bad for business to call attention to something like this. With us, it will be different. We’re just simple folk.”
Cindy walked back and forth slowly then, tuning into the overall energy, listening for an unheard vibration that could lead her to something. As she walked her eye caught a little hole at the end of the lane. At first looked, inconsequential, like a pocket of dirt. She went over, and looked in. To her surprise, there was a tiny cloth wrapper buried inside. Cindy leaned in, pulled it out and opened it quickly. Inside the wrapper was one, round earring made of gold. It was small and strangely shaped earring for pierced ears.
“Look at this, Mattheus,” she called out.
Mattheus came right over. Cindy held the squiggly earring up.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“I found it in this hole.”
Mattheus looked at the earring. “Good work,” he said, “but any number of people could have dropped it there. This is a shopping thoroughfare.”
“That’s true,” said Cindy. “But it was wrapped in its own dark cloth wrapper.”
“One earring?” said Mattheus.
“Just this,” she said, holding it up to the light and then putting it into her pocket book besides the scraggly paper.
“The killer wouldn’t have dumped the body and then taken the time to deposit this earring in a mud hole,” Mattheus said. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“Nothing makes sense,” Cindy responded, “until we find all the pieces.”
Another large bird flew back then, over them again, howling into the early evening.
*