Picture Perfect Murder (Ryli Sinclair 1)

Picture Perfect Murder

Jenna St. James

Copyright
©
2015 by Jenna St. James.

Published
by Jenna St. James

All Rights
Reserved
. No part of this publication may be reproduced without the
written permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction. Names and characters are either
the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any
resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events,
or locales is entirely coincidental.

I hate looking at dead bodies. And believe me, I’ve seen a
lot of them in my twenty-eight
years. There’s nothing
that can prepare you for that first glimpse of death.

In college, I worked part time at Jaworski Funeral Home. It
was one of those small, family-owned businesses. They were great about working
around my class schedule. They were even better about including me as family. A
few holiday dinners and family gatherings later, and Ryli Jo Sinclair had
become an honorary Jaworski.

For four years I did everything from flower arranging to
consoling families. I didn’t deal with the actual prepping of the dead body. But
still, a dead body is a dead body as far as I’m concerned.

Tonight, however, was completely different. This dead body
wasn’t neatly arranged in a silk-lined casket. This dead body was spread out
over the kitchen table, naked from the waist up, covered in blood, and missing
a heart.

I swallowed, pushing down the bile that rose in my throat.
Tonight I was moonlighting as the forensic photographer in my small hometown of
Granville, Missouri. Mainly because the newspaper I work for,
The Granville
Gazette,
doesn’t pay me enough money to survive.

I’ve worked for
The Gazette,
the one and only
newspaper in town, since returning from college six years ago. I graduated with
a major in journalism and a minor in photography. A few months later, not only
didn’t I have a full-time job, but my college loans were coming due. A few
desperate weeks later, my mom called and said
The Gazette
was looking
for a reporter and photographer.

So now here I am, stuck in the same small town I’d left,
writing fluff pieces for people who have made being nosey neighbors an actual
art form.

But I like my job. Since the newspaper is small, I not only write
the stories, but I also help with layout, editing, and taking photographs.

The Granville Police Department also calls me whenever they
need a professional. And tonight they definitely needed me.

“God, what a freaking mess,” Officer Troy Chunsey muttered,
holding his hand under his nose.

I glanced over at Officer Chunsey.
Nothing like stating
the obvious
.

I graduated with his older sister, Sherrie. She wasn’t
exactly a rocket scientist, either. Officer Chunsey was around twenty-four,
overweight, and still had a baby face. Although his baby face wasn’t looking
too good right now. In fact, it had already turned four different colors since
we’d arrived in the bloodied kitchen.

“If you’re gonna throw up, Chunsey, you’d better do it
outside!” Chief Kimble barked.

Garrett Kimble was our new chief of police for Granville. I
say new because he’s only been here for a little over a year. In order not to
be new in Granville, you’d have to be born here. Everyone else is considered
new in town.

Kimble came to us from the Kansas City Police Department
where he worked for almost eight years after leaving active duty. He has
jet-black hair styled short from his military days, and cold blue eyes, also
left over from his military days. And did I mention a body that could make a
nun weep? I tried staying clear of him when he first came to town…mainly
because he makes the spit in my mouth dry up. Whether it’s from sheer terror or
sexual frustration, I don’t know, but more and more lately I’ve been thinking
of finding out.

He’s about ten years older than me, give or take a few
months. I’ve never really dated an older guy. Hell, who am I kidding, I’ve not
really dated a whole lot period; so older, younger, I guess it doesn’t matter.

Recently I’ve been not so subtle in my advances toward him.
I figure it’s better to let him know I’m interested than making him guess. The
thing I worry about most is whether or not I can handle a guy like Kimble.
There’s no doubt in my mind he could chew me up and spit me out before I even
know what happened.

I looked over at Melvin Collins, the coroner. “Just making
the pronouncement. I haven’t really had time to do much else, Chief.”

“Ryli, get over here with that camera,” Chief Kimble
ordered.

Walking over to him, I carefully averted my eyes from the
table. Not so much out of respect, but because I was afraid I was gonna puke.
Then he’d be yelling at me instead of Chunsey.

“Start shooting. Make sure you miss nothing.”

The body, which was once known as Dr. Vera Garver, stared
back at me with empty eyes. I lifted my camera and began shooting. I’d probably
taken seven chest shots before I lowered my camera and backed up from the table
to really look at her and the crime scene.

Garver probably weighed one hundred sixty pounds and had
shoulder-length brown hair, which was currently covered in blood. Actually,
everything was pretty much covered in blood.

The oak table that housed her body wasn’t really all that
big. It was one of those round, kitchen-nook tables. This meant her feet were
dangling off the edge. You could tell the chairs had been pushed back quickly
because one was toppled over.

I carefully avoided the blood as best I could and walked
away from the body toward the main area of the kitchen. The dark brown granite
countertops and stainless steel appliances gleamed under the bright lights of
the kitchen.

The kitchen was pristine except for the two coffee mugs, two
plates, and two forks drying on a dish towel beside the sink. Almost like Dr.
Garver had been entertaining right before she died.

This was definitely going to be a
hard one to solve
. Garver was probably the most hated person in
all of Granville. She’d been the superintendent of our local school for almost
a decade.

“You know we’re gonna have to question the whole town, right?”
Chunsey said. “Everyone is pretty much a suspect when it comes to who would
want her dead.”

I bit back a chuckle. Just nervous laughter I was sure,
since I wasn’t used to dealing with such graphic scenes. Truth was, Chunsey was
right for once in his life.

I didn’t think many people would openly weep for Garver, but
I couldn’t really think much of anything because the smell was making me light
headed.

I lifted my camera and walked back toward the body, again
avoiding the blood as best I could.

I glanced down at Garver’s fingers, getting ready to snap a
picture of her hands, which were also dangling off the table, when I noticed
something odd. I squatted down to get a better look.

Okay, now I did gag.

“What’s wrong?” Kimble walked over to the corner of the room
where I had quickly retreated, still hunched over, taking deep breaths.

I didn’t dare say anything for fear of what would come
out…or come up. Instead, I just pointed to her hands the best I could from my
precarious position. Garrett’s latex-gloved hand reached down and gently lifted
Dr. Garver’s right hand. The fatty tips of her fingers had all been cut off.

I just hate it when that happens.

Now I did laugh. Hysterical laughter. Never good when you’re
trying to be taken seriously.

Ignoring me, Garrett walked around the table to examine her
other hand. Same thing.

“Guess the gaping hole in her chest made it easy to
overlook,” Chunsey muttered.

Kimble’s eyes cut to the officer then back at me. “Good job
catching it,” he said and gave me one of his rare smiles. I almost felt a
little better.

“Why cut off her fingertips?” I asked after kicking my own
ass to get it together. “It’s not like we’d have to ID the body through
fingerprints.”

“Not sure,” Garrett said.

I walked back over to the table and continued snapping
pictures of the body, blocking out the images, and just getting lost in the
lighting and angles as best I could.

I know most folks would think that being a newspaper
journalist and working for the police department might be a conflict of interest,
but usually there wasn’t anything that interesting to scoop. Besides, like I
said, I really needed the extra money. It was nice being able to eat on a
regular basis.

Of course, until tonight, most of my jobs for the police
department consisted of photographing vehicular accidents, vandalism, that type
of thing. Nothing like this.

Working with the police department also let me believe I was
helping to solve cases. I know I wasn’t really solving them, but a part of me
enjoyed putting clues together and coming up with theories. I’ve been able to
ask the guys on the squad questions while I shoot pictures, and they usually
answer them.

“I don’t see evidence of a struggle,” I commented, trying to
make conversation.

Stony stare from Kimble.

“I’m just saying. The house isn’t trashed, and she doesn’t
appear to have defensive wounds on her arms or anything.”

Again, stony stare. “You are snapping pictures…that’s all.”

Shrugging, I finished up with the body and went into the
living room, snapping pictures just in case. It was a newer house with an
open-floor concept. You could be in the kitchen and still watch television in
the living room. At the far end of the living room there was a desktop computer,
flat screen monitor, and multi-use printer.

Melvin Collins walked back into the room. “I contacted the
medical examiner in Brywood. They are expecting the body tonight. Couple days
for the autopsy and answers, hopefully.”

“Where’s the husband?” Garrett asked when he finished with
the body.

Officer Chunsey raised his head off the kitchen counter. “He’s
in the formal dining room. Matt took him in there to get him settled down. Husband’s
the one that came home and found the body around eleven. Called 911.”

“Pretty late night for Mr. Garver, isn’t it?” Garrett asked.

“This is Thursday night,” I volunteered. Since Garrett just
raised his eyebrow at me, I figured I’d better elaborate. “Professor Garver
teaches English at a local college over in Brywood. Everyone knows that
Thursday night is his long night. He has class from six to ten.”

“Everyone knows?” Garrett said.

“Yeah. It’s a small town, in case you forgot.” Even to my
own ears I sounded defensive. But it was true. The Professor had been teaching
that class on Thursday nights for about nine years. He was pretty much a
staple. If you wanted to take his class, and you wanted to take it at night,
you had to take it on Thursday nights. It was the only night class he had.

“I haven’t forgotten.” I could tell by the way Garrett was
glaring at me I hadn’t heard the end of it. “So he ends class at ten, stays
around and gets his papers in order, maybe talks to a student, walks out to his
car, then drives home. It’s about a thirty-minute drive over to Brywood, so
that could put him home around eleven. Comes in, sees the body, calls 911. Gives
him a nice, solid alibi.”

I never did know when to keep my mouth shut. “Please, you
don’t really think that Professor Garver is capable of this, do you?” I
gestured my hand vaguely in the area of Vera Garver’s body. I still wasn’t
fully capable of looking at it without gagging.

“Well, Ms. Sinclair, if not her husband, who do you think we
should be looking at? Please enlighten me with one of your theories.” I could
tell he was pretty pissed, especially since he used my last name. As soon as Garrett
starts using my last name, I know I’ve pushed enough and it’s time to shut up. So
I took the easy way out and shrugged my shoulders.

“Well, seeing as how I’m still the acting chief of police
around here, perhaps I’ll go in and talk to Professor Garver just the same.”
 He
paused and gave me a heated look. “And when you’re finished, just wait for me
in my office at the station. I’m sure I won’t be much longer than you.”

Damn. I was in big trouble. Why couldn’t I just keep my
mouth shut around him? Probably because he made me so nervous I just couldn’t
help myself. Now I was going to get chewed out by Hardass Kimble himself. Nothing
like a long night of taking bloody pictures and topping it off with an ass
chewing.

Truth is, Garrett's never raised his voice to me personally,
but I’ve heard him chew out others enough to know it could be brutal.

Half an hour later I finished off my last roll of film. I
took plenty of pictures because after my run-in with Kimble, I didn’t want to
take any chances of not getting everything possible. Plus, a few of the other
guys on the squad were willing to whisper their theories to me. But mainly, I
didn’t want to give him an opportunity to fire me. Packing up my gear, I
decided to snoop and find out where everyone was.

I walked down the short, spacious hallway that led away from
the kitchen and living room. There were several framed pictures lining the two
walls. I paused to look at them. Most were of the two adult Garver kids, a boy
and a girl, and a granddaughter. I actually felt a twinge of pity for Dr.
Garver. She’d never be able to see her family again.

At the end of the hallway on the right was the guest
bathroom. Hearing voices, I turned left and caught my breath. The spacious room
consisted of the formal living and dining room. It had vaulted ceilings and
over-sized casement windows all around the room, giving it a bright, airy
feeling. The walls were painted a light beige, and the large crown molding
throughout the room made it pop. I absolutely loved this room.