Free Just Murdered by Elaine Viets Page B

electrostatic dust print lifter.”
    Helen bit her lip to hide a smile. She wondered if Detective Smith had the senator’s number—or just Brendan’s. She’d pulled a few bluffs like that herself. Smith was all business, but Helen thought the detective enjoyed ordering around the pompous Brendan.
    “I don’t see—” Brendan started to say.
    “I know you don’t see,” she said. “You also didn’t see anything wrong with moving the body and disturbing the crime scene, although you are an attorney and an officer of the court. You do realize that has complicated the case, sir? It’s going to take longer now to find the killer. It makes you look suspect.”
    Smith sounded sad rather than angry, as if Brendan was one more burden she had to bear.
    Brendan started blustering. “Young woman, are you accusing me of murder? I demand to see my attorney.”
    “I’m stating a fact. We cannot have any more people contaminating this crime scene.”
    “What crime scene?” Brendan said. “The room is roped off and we’re standing in the hall.”
    “This whole building is a crime scene and you will be removed from it as soon as possible. Now take off your shoes and you can see your attorney.”
    Brendan leaned against the wall and reluctantly removed his perfectly polished shoes. He had a small hole in his black sock. Maybe that’s why he’d fought so hard to keep his shoes on, Helen thought.
    At first the bridesmaids were happy to take off their high heels. They wiggled their red, tortured toes. Then airhead Amy said, “When do we get our shoes back?”
    “When we don’t need them anymore,” said a tech crawling around on the floor near the bride’s room door.
    “When’s that?” Amy said.
    “Depends,” he said. “Could be hours. Could be years.”
    “Those shoes are Jimmy Choos!” Amy cried. “Do you know what they cost?”
    “I know my wife can’t afford them,” the tech said.
    Even Amy had enough sense to shut up. Helen wondered if any of the men were renting the shoes with their formal wear. They could run up a colossal bill if this was a long investigation. Her own shoes were so old, she didn’t care if she ever got them back.
    Helen had been frightened when the police first arrived. When she saw Detective Smith take on the bully Brendan, her fear turned to respect. She didn’t think Smith would railroad her just to make an arrest.
    Now Helen was fascinated. She loved crime shows like CSI, and here she was in the middle of a real investigation. She could see the police preparing the roped-off room for the electrostatic dust print lifter, or ESDL. Pieces of plastic film about a foot square were laid on the floor in and around the closet where Kiki was found. On one side, the film was shiny, like chrome. On the other, it was black. The black side was down on the hardwood floor.
    The ESDL was about the size of a shoe box. The techs explained that the film would be electrostatically charged. Dust particles would be attracted to the film. They would pick up shoe prints and other evidence in the dust.
    Helen wondered if the ESDL would pick up anything useful. The floor had been trampled like the Kansas prairie in a cattle drive.
    The wedding party surrendered their shoes. Each pair was marked, tagged, and bagged. Then Detective Smith said, “Now, if you will accompany Officer Fernandez to the church school building.”
    “Is that absolutely necessary?” Brendan said. “Can’t you take our statements here?”
    “As I said before, this is a crime scene,” Detective Smith said. “It’s been contaminated enough already.”
    Brendan heard the rebuke.
    But it was a good question, Helen thought. That high-priced herd of lawyers wasn’t going to let anyone say anything. Maybe the cops enjoyed running up a big legal bill for the rich jerk Brendan.
    The wedding party walked in a barefoot procession across the parking lot. In their formal dress, Helen thought they looked like that old Beatles album, Abbey