the
criss-cross of razor-thin lines. They had taken
photographs of the wounds when they were
booking him, and An had thought then as she
thought now that had Sandra Burke been felled
by a mortal paper cut, this would have been an
open and shut case.
Jergens asked, 'Where was her body found?'
'Less than half a mile from Mr Reed's place of
employment – the same route he takes home
every day.'
Jergens seemed surprised. 'Is that so?'
'We believe he took his mother home, then
went in search of the woman who had humiliated
him two days before.' An watched Martin as she
laid out the scenario. He didn't look like
someone who would fester with hatred, but then
again, she was a grown woman who had carried
on an eight-year relationship with an imaginary
friend, so who could tell?
Jergens asked, 'Does he have an alibi?'
'No.'
'Ouch!' Jergens chortled. He looked down at
his legal pad where he was tracing An's name
with his pen. When he saw her watching, he gave
her a wink and turned one of the circles into a
heart.
'Are you narcoleptic?' Martin asked his
lawyer.
Jergens shook his head sadly. 'Don't I wish.'
An opened the folder Bruce had given her,
keeping it tilted so that Martin and his boy
lawyer could not see the contents. The pictures
were stark, violent. Sandy had not just been hit
by a car. Her body showed extensive bruising
where she had been beaten repeatedly with a
blunt object. On the scene, the coroner had
guessed maybe a piece of wood or something
with a square end. When An had opened the
trunk of Martin's Camry and seen the crushed
corner of his briefcase, she had added the case to
the list of possible murder weapons.
The coroner easily read the scene: the car had
been used to knock down the victim. The
subsequent beating was what had killed the
woman. Then, the killer had gotten back into his
car and ran over her head. Then her torso. Then
her head again.
An had to admit, if only to herself, that she
was having trouble feeling sympathy for the
victim. Sandra Burke had two children who were
being raised by the State. She had a history of
drug and alcohol abuse. She had been arrested
once for intimidating one of her elderly neighbors
into giving her ten dollars for cigarettes.
All of this together was nothing spectacularly
bad in the scheme of things – this was certainly not
the first case An had seen where an alcoholic, bad
mother had been brutally murdered – but there
was one particular thing about Sandra Burke that
really grated An's nerves: she was a hideous
housekeeper. She'd left plates in the sink so long
that the food had started to growmold. How hard
was it to put them in the dishwasher? And would
it have killed the woman to occasionally vacuum
the rug in the front hall? For the love of God, the
vacuum was right there in the hall closet.
'Excuse me?' Martin said.
An realized she had gone silent too long. She
cleared her throat, trying to block out the image
of the dirty dishes, to think of Sandra Burke as a
human being instead of a grossly untidy person.
'Mr Reed, have you ever hit a woman?'
He bristled. 'Of course not. Men are stronger
than women. It's an unfair advantage.'
Bruce chuckled. 'Have to be alone with them
before you can hit them, right, Marty? Was that
what it was all about?' He slammed his hands on
the table, raising his voice. 'Tell us what
happened, Martin! Tell us the truth!' He leaned
closer. 'You came on to Susan and she told you
to go fuck yourself! Isn't that right?'
Martin and An exchanged a look. His voice
was mild when he corrected, 'It's Sandy,
actually.'
Jergens scratched through the word 'Susan' on
his pad and wrote 'Sandee'.
An felt a headache working its way up from
the back of her neck and into the base of her
brain. She asked, 'Mr Reed, where did you go last
night after you dropped off your mother?'
'I just drove around,' he mumbled.
'Speak up,' Bruce chided.
'I said I just drove around,' Martin insisted.
'This is really crazy. Honestly, why would I
criss-cross of razor-thin lines. They had taken
photographs of the wounds when they were
booking him, and An had thought then as she
thought now that had Sandra Burke been felled
by a mortal paper cut, this would have been an
open and shut case.
Jergens asked, 'Where was her body found?'
'Less than half a mile from Mr Reed's place of
employment – the same route he takes home
every day.'
Jergens seemed surprised. 'Is that so?'
'We believe he took his mother home, then
went in search of the woman who had humiliated
him two days before.' An watched Martin as she
laid out the scenario. He didn't look like
someone who would fester with hatred, but then
again, she was a grown woman who had carried
on an eight-year relationship with an imaginary
friend, so who could tell?
Jergens asked, 'Does he have an alibi?'
'No.'
'Ouch!' Jergens chortled. He looked down at
his legal pad where he was tracing An's name
with his pen. When he saw her watching, he gave
her a wink and turned one of the circles into a
heart.
'Are you narcoleptic?' Martin asked his
lawyer.
Jergens shook his head sadly. 'Don't I wish.'
An opened the folder Bruce had given her,
keeping it tilted so that Martin and his boy
lawyer could not see the contents. The pictures
were stark, violent. Sandy had not just been hit
by a car. Her body showed extensive bruising
where she had been beaten repeatedly with a
blunt object. On the scene, the coroner had
guessed maybe a piece of wood or something
with a square end. When An had opened the
trunk of Martin's Camry and seen the crushed
corner of his briefcase, she had added the case to
the list of possible murder weapons.
The coroner easily read the scene: the car had
been used to knock down the victim. The
subsequent beating was what had killed the
woman. Then, the killer had gotten back into his
car and ran over her head. Then her torso. Then
her head again.
An had to admit, if only to herself, that she
was having trouble feeling sympathy for the
victim. Sandra Burke had two children who were
being raised by the State. She had a history of
drug and alcohol abuse. She had been arrested
once for intimidating one of her elderly neighbors
into giving her ten dollars for cigarettes.
All of this together was nothing spectacularly
bad in the scheme of things – this was certainly not
the first case An had seen where an alcoholic, bad
mother had been brutally murdered – but there
was one particular thing about Sandra Burke that
really grated An's nerves: she was a hideous
housekeeper. She'd left plates in the sink so long
that the food had started to growmold. How hard
was it to put them in the dishwasher? And would
it have killed the woman to occasionally vacuum
the rug in the front hall? For the love of God, the
vacuum was right there in the hall closet.
'Excuse me?' Martin said.
An realized she had gone silent too long. She
cleared her throat, trying to block out the image
of the dirty dishes, to think of Sandra Burke as a
human being instead of a grossly untidy person.
'Mr Reed, have you ever hit a woman?'
He bristled. 'Of course not. Men are stronger
than women. It's an unfair advantage.'
Bruce chuckled. 'Have to be alone with them
before you can hit them, right, Marty? Was that
what it was all about?' He slammed his hands on
the table, raising his voice. 'Tell us what
happened, Martin! Tell us the truth!' He leaned
closer. 'You came on to Susan and she told you
to go fuck yourself! Isn't that right?'
Martin and An exchanged a look. His voice
was mild when he corrected, 'It's Sandy,
actually.'
Jergens scratched through the word 'Susan' on
his pad and wrote 'Sandee'.
An felt a headache working its way up from
the back of her neck and into the base of her
brain. She asked, 'Mr Reed, where did you go last
night after you dropped off your mother?'
'I just drove around,' he mumbled.
'Speak up,' Bruce chided.
'I said I just drove around,' Martin insisted.
'This is really crazy. Honestly, why would I
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