A Beeline to Murder

Kat grunted as she pinched the object between her latex thumb and first finger, and held on to it until she was again standing upright. Abby, Kat, and Otto stared at the object, an earring stud, its prongs securing a faceted clear stone.

The stud appeared similar to the pair of earrings Abby’s maternal grandmother, Rose, had given her on her eighteenth birthday. The delicate filigree setting reminded Abby of heirloom or vintage jewelry. “Old mine cut,” her grandmother had explained when Abby had asked her why, if the earrings her grandmother had given her were real diamonds, their shine seemed so lackluster. Grandma Rose had explained that at the turn of the century, diamonds used in jewelry were far rougher. Few jewelers could afford expensive faceting machines in those days, and many of the stones had large inclusions and so looked muddied.

Kat held the stud up toward the ceiling light. More fire than my earrings have, Abby thought. Might be a diamond. Could be glass. A jeweler would know.

Abby said, “You might want to check the body for piercings, see if this was maybe his.”

While Otto examined the chef’s rather petite ears, left and right, and his prominent nose, Abby and Kat studied the earring.

“Apparently, Chef Jean-Louis wasn’t into piercing,” Otto declared.

Abby peered at the stud. “It’s missing its backing. Let me have your flashlight, Otto.”

From his duty belt, Otto peeled off the small flashlight and handed it to Abby. “If you find it, don’t touch it. Custody of evidence and all that being sacrosanct.”

“Yeah, I know the drill.” Abby ran the light back and forth under the island. Finally, she rose, switched off the light, and handed it back to the big boy. “Nothing there but a lot of dust.”

Kat slipped the earring into a paper evidence bag and jotted the relevant identifying information on it. Her radio came on, and the dispatcher’s voice informed her that the police chief needed an update. “Again?” Kat rolled her eyes at Abby. She pushed her two-way.

Chief Bob Allen’s voice cut through. “What have you got, Petrovsky?”

“Well, the vic is definitely the pastry chef Jean-Louis Bonheur.”

“Keep talking,” said the chief.

“The scene’s contained. Otto’s here, and a new assistant to the coroner, her driver, and Mackenzie, who, as you know, found the body. Two possibilities at this point, Chief. Looks like he could have strung himself up or he could have been murdered. That homeless woman, Dora, has been by already, looking for free coffee. I want to talk with her because I’m thinking maybe she came by even earlier. If she cut him down, then I’d lean toward it being a possible suicide, but it’s early.”

“All right. Keep me posted,” the chief commanded. “I’m out for a meeting with the mayor, but I’ll want a full briefing when you’re finished there.”

“Right, Boss,” Kat said, sounding respectfully subordinate. With the call ended, she turned her attention back to the body, studying the dead man’s neck area.

“What material do you think made that mark?” Kat asked.

Otto and Abby jockeyed for a better position, both leaning in for a closer look.

“You mean the bruising around his neck?” Abby asked. “The twine on the doorknob looks like it might make that kind of narrow ligature.”

“Well, I’m going to ask Dr. Figelson to speculate on the manner of death, but I’m not holding out any hope that she’ll tell me anything until after an autopsy,” said Kat. She made a sweeping motion with her arm to indicate to Virgil that he could proceed with covering the body.

“Ready, there, Virgil?” Otto looked at the wide-eyed young man, who stood a couple of feet away, with the drape for covering the corpse still pinched between his fingers. “Like some help there with that sheet?”

“Uh, yes, sir,” Virgil said. His dark eyes remained riveted on the body. He proffered the unopened plastic bag containing the drape.

Otto, grinning like a monkey, winked at Abby and asked Virgil, “You scared of something? A dead body can’t hurt you. It ain’t like he could whack you.”