determined that the hyoid bone was fractured in two places. That changed things pretty quick.”
I looked at Lorna and knew she did not know what the hyoid bone was.
“It’s a small bone shaped like a horseshoe that protects the windpipe.”
I touched the front of my neck in illustration.
“If it’s broken, it means force trauma to the front of the neck. She was choked, strangled.”
She nodded her thanks and I told Cisco to keep going.
“So they went back out, with arson and homicide investigators, and now we have a full-on murder investigation. They knocked on doors and I talked to a lot of the people they talked to. Several of them heard an argument coming from her apartment about eleven Sunday night. Raised voices. A man and a woman going at it about money.”
He referred to his notebook again to get a name.
“A Mrs. Annabeth Stephens lives directly across the hall from the victim’s apartment and she was watching out her peephole when a man left following the argument. She said the time was between eleven thirty and midnight because the news was over and she went to bed at midnight. She later identified Andre La Cosse when the cops showed her a six-pack.”
“She told you this?”
“She did.”
“Did she know you were working for the guy she identified?”
“I told her I was investigating the death across the hall and she spoke willingly to me. I didn’t identify myself further than that because she never asked for anything further.”
I nodded to Cisco. Being able to finesse the story from a key prosecution witness so early in the game was good work on his part.
“How old is Mrs. Stephens?”
“She’s midsixties. I think she was stationed at that peephole a lot of the time. Every building has a busybody like that.”
Jennifer chimed in.
“If she says he left before midnight, how do the police account for the smoke detector in the hallway not sounding for fifty more minutes?”
Cisco shrugged again.
“Could be a couple of explanations. One, that it took the smoke some time to work its way under the door. The fire could’ve been burning in there the whole time. Or, two, he set the fire with some sort of delay or other rig to allow him time to get out and get clear. And then there’s three, a combination of one and two.”
Cisco reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and matches. He shook a cigarette out of the pack and then put it inside the folded matchbook.
“Oldest trick in the book,” he said. “You light the cigarette and it slow burns down to the matches. The matches go up and ignite the accelerant. Gives a three- to ten-minute head start, depending on the cigarette you use.”
I nodded more to myself than to Cisco. I was getting a sense of the state’s case against my client and was already working out strategies and moves. Cisco continued.
“Did you know that by law in most states, any brand of cigarette sold in that state has to have a three-minute burn-down rate for unattended smoking? That’s why most arsonists use foreign cigarettes.”
“That’s great,” I said. “Can we get back to this case? What else did you get from the apartment building?”
“That’s about it at this time,” Cisco said. “I’ll be going back there, though. A lot of people weren’t at home when I knocked.”
“That’s because they looked through the peephole and got scared when they saw you.”
I meant it in jest but it wasn’t without a point. Cisco rode a Harley and he dressed the part. His usual outfit consisted of black jeans, boots, and a skin-tight black T-shirt with a leather vest over it. With his imposing size, dress, and the penetrating stare of his dark eyes through a peephole, it was no wonder to me that some people didn’t answer their doors. In fact, I was more surprised when he reported the cooperation of a witness. So much so that I took pains to make sure cooperation was fully voluntary. The last thing I ever wanted was a witness
I looked at Lorna and knew she did not know what the hyoid bone was.
“It’s a small bone shaped like a horseshoe that protects the windpipe.”
I touched the front of my neck in illustration.
“If it’s broken, it means force trauma to the front of the neck. She was choked, strangled.”
She nodded her thanks and I told Cisco to keep going.
“So they went back out, with arson and homicide investigators, and now we have a full-on murder investigation. They knocked on doors and I talked to a lot of the people they talked to. Several of them heard an argument coming from her apartment about eleven Sunday night. Raised voices. A man and a woman going at it about money.”
He referred to his notebook again to get a name.
“A Mrs. Annabeth Stephens lives directly across the hall from the victim’s apartment and she was watching out her peephole when a man left following the argument. She said the time was between eleven thirty and midnight because the news was over and she went to bed at midnight. She later identified Andre La Cosse when the cops showed her a six-pack.”
“She told you this?”
“She did.”
“Did she know you were working for the guy she identified?”
“I told her I was investigating the death across the hall and she spoke willingly to me. I didn’t identify myself further than that because she never asked for anything further.”
I nodded to Cisco. Being able to finesse the story from a key prosecution witness so early in the game was good work on his part.
“How old is Mrs. Stephens?”
“She’s midsixties. I think she was stationed at that peephole a lot of the time. Every building has a busybody like that.”
Jennifer chimed in.
“If she says he left before midnight, how do the police account for the smoke detector in the hallway not sounding for fifty more minutes?”
Cisco shrugged again.
“Could be a couple of explanations. One, that it took the smoke some time to work its way under the door. The fire could’ve been burning in there the whole time. Or, two, he set the fire with some sort of delay or other rig to allow him time to get out and get clear. And then there’s three, a combination of one and two.”
Cisco reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and matches. He shook a cigarette out of the pack and then put it inside the folded matchbook.
“Oldest trick in the book,” he said. “You light the cigarette and it slow burns down to the matches. The matches go up and ignite the accelerant. Gives a three- to ten-minute head start, depending on the cigarette you use.”
I nodded more to myself than to Cisco. I was getting a sense of the state’s case against my client and was already working out strategies and moves. Cisco continued.
“Did you know that by law in most states, any brand of cigarette sold in that state has to have a three-minute burn-down rate for unattended smoking? That’s why most arsonists use foreign cigarettes.”
“That’s great,” I said. “Can we get back to this case? What else did you get from the apartment building?”
“That’s about it at this time,” Cisco said. “I’ll be going back there, though. A lot of people weren’t at home when I knocked.”
“That’s because they looked through the peephole and got scared when they saw you.”
I meant it in jest but it wasn’t without a point. Cisco rode a Harley and he dressed the part. His usual outfit consisted of black jeans, boots, and a skin-tight black T-shirt with a leather vest over it. With his imposing size, dress, and the penetrating stare of his dark eyes through a peephole, it was no wonder to me that some people didn’t answer their doors. In fact, I was more surprised when he reported the cooperation of a witness. So much so that I took pains to make sure cooperation was fully voluntary. The last thing I ever wanted was a witness
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