Free A Study in Sin by August Wainwright Page B

it would have been, had the entire room not been splattered in scarlet red. It looked like someone had filled a water gun with paint and took to creating some abstract piece of artwork. And, there, directly above the largest stain, was the same word, CAPITAL, scrolled in blood on the ceiling. The four of us stood for a moment taking in the scene.
    I was struck by the brutality of the whole thing. The backdrop of the red stains covering the sterile white interior faded as the image of Cormack’s rigid and twisted body flashed in my mind. Was this what being a detective was like? Scene after scene of viciousness, just enough time to catch your breath from one gruesome murder before the next one beckons? And why the fuck would Remy enjoy this? Because she did enjoy it. Even as the four of us stood and thought about the crime in front of us, only one of us had a sparkle in our eye. Remy was the only one who felt more alive, somehow more human, when faced with such horrid death. I was still thinking about what made her tick as she broke the silence.
    “Did you find anything in the room?”
    “Nothing. This place is like a model home.”
    “What about in the other rooms?”
    “No, nothing. Nothing that could help us at least. There was a glass of water on the coffee table, and a bottle of prescription pills, but other than that –”
    Remy started to laugh.
    “What the hell is so funny?” Arruda growled.
    “The pills, do you have them?”
    “They were bagged.”
    “Excellent job, Arruda. Seems you’ve gotten at least one thing right today,” she said, still laughing to herself, “You know, I have to thank you Watts.”
    “Me? Why?”
    “Because if you hadn’t pestered me into looking into the Capitol Hill matter, I would have missed out on such a fun little case,” she said.
    “Fun?” Lambert said, turning to look down at Remy.
     “Absolutely. And, I’ll tell you what, since both of you were off on your first guesses as to who the killer is, why don’t you give me your second choices. Then I can tell you which is more wrong and the other walks away the winner of the bet. How does that sound?”
    “And I suppose you have all the answers?” Lambert asked.
    “As a matter of fact, I do. It was quite simple really.”
    “Fuck you,” Arruda snapped.
    “Ok. How about a new bet then? I’ll bet you a hundred dollars each that, not only do I know who the killer is, but I’ll personally deliver the person to you before the end of the day.”
     “You three can jerk each other off all you want, I’ll be outside.” Apparently, Detective Arruda was done wagering for the day.
    “Do you really know who did it?” Lambert asked after Arruda had had exited.
    “Take the bet and find out.”
    “Damn it, Remy!”
    “Yes,” she shot back. “From the time the two split up at the airport, until Cormack’s body was found; from the beginning until this very moment, I can see the entire thing as if I was there when it happened. And I will tell you all of it, so there’s no need to get upset.”
    Lambert stood staring back at her, waiting for her to continue.
    “The prescription pills, the ones Arruda found on the table, that’s your murder weapon in the Cormack case. Have the lab run tests and compare them to toxins that come back from Cormack’s autopsy. They’ll match, I promise. Your partner was actually pretty close when he blurted out that it was a suicide back at the original scene. Except, this was more of a forced suicide. I believe our man stood there and made Cormack take the poison. He probably attempted the same thing here, but found a less willing participant.”
    “How?” Lambert asked, more under his breath then aloud.
    “How what?”
    “How can you possibly know who did it? We have all the same information; I’m more confused now than I was at the start.”
    “I can see how this new murder might be disorienting, but your confusion stems from the fact that you failed, from the beginning, to