“Lincoln Johnson is dead.” I left the interview room, slamming the door behind me.
****
When I arrived at the scene, Penelope was out front with her husband, Gerald. Her pale cheeks were wet with tears, and she was shivering. Deputy Juan and Deputy Sam had accompanied me, and they began hanging tape. As soon as Penelope calmed down, I’d have one of them take her statement.
Pulling on gloves and shoe coverings, I entered the house. I’d really hoped Penelope had been wrong about Lincoln being deceased. She wasn’t. His lifeless body was sprawled on the living room floor. She also hadn’t exaggerated the amount of blood. Lincoln had definitely put up a fight. The coffee table was overturned, and magazines were scattered across thebeige carpet. There was blood spatter on the walls, rug, and furniture.
While I needed to focus on the job and not allow sentimentality to interfere, it was difficult. Lincoln had been a wonderful, cheerful soul. If I’d had to predict a person who might be brutally murdered, Lincoln wouldn’t have come to mind. I’d never met anyone who didn’t like him. Even Max had found him charming.
Forensics arrived a few minutes after me, and as they went to work placing evidence markers and photographing the scene, I slowly moved through the home. The rest of the house appeared untouched. Whoever had attacked Lincoln obviously hadn’t been there to burgle the place. There didn’t appear to be any signs of forced entry on the windows or doors of the home. Since my search of the rest of the house yielded nothing, I returned to the front room. Kneeling down beside the body, it looked as if Lincoln had been stabbed or shot in the chest. There was so much blood it was impossible to tell just by looking. However, I didn’t want to disturb the body and mess things up for the ME. If he’d been stabbed, there was no weapon jutting from the body. If that had been the method used to kill Lincoln, the person had taken the weapon with them.
Lincoln was in his pajamas, but I didn’t think he’d died this morning. The rigor mortis in his body appeared to be too advanced. Rigor mortis generally appeared approximately two hours after death in the muscles of the face. In Lincoln’s case, the stiffening had already progressed to the lower limbs. The ME would be able to pinpoint time of death far more accurately than I could, but I was pretty sure Lincoln had died sometime last night.
I didn’t want to get in the way of the forensic team, so I went outside. Penelope was clinging to her husband, looking shell-shocked. I wanted to ask Penelope some questions, so I made my way toward her and Gerald.
“Did you see him? Wasn’t it the most dreadful thing?” she asked as I neared.
“Yes.” I cleared my throat. “You say you were here to have coffee with Lincoln?”
She nodded. “Yes, and he was going to make pumpkin m… muffins. He had a new recipe, and he was so excited.” Her bottom lip began to tremble ominously, and she visibly struggled to control her emotions. “I still can’t believe it. Who… why would anyone… he was such a wonderful man.”
“I know.” I grimaced. “Did you have anything in particular to discuss with Lincoln?”
She blinked as if trying to gather her thoughts. “He wanted the city to partner with the Rotary Club for a summer concert series. I told him I wasn’t sure something like that was in the budget, but he still wanted to discuss it.”
“Did you see any cars parked in front of his house when you arrived? Anyone hovering near the home?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“You said the door was open?”
“It was. I found that odd, but then I thought perhaps Lincoln was busy doing something and he’d left it open for me.” She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “Obviously, I was wrong.”
“Can you think of anyone who had an issue with Lincoln?” Lincoln’s wife had died ten years ago, and he’d never remarried. As far as I knew, he’d also never dated.
“I honestly can’t think of one person in town who didn’t adore Lincoln.” Her voice wobbled. “But… apparently there was… someone.”
“When was the last time you saw Lincoln?”
She grimaced. “Last night. There was a slideshow of Africa at the Rotary Club. I hate those slideshows, but I went because I’d already promised I would.”
“How did Lincoln seem? Was he in a good mood? Or did something seem to be on his mind?”
“He seemed fine. He seemed like his usual self.”
“Did you see him interacting with the other members?”
She nodded. “Naturally. He loved people. He was laughing and talking to everybody.” She gulped. “This is so unfair.”
“Did you leave before or after Lincoln left the meeting?”
She got a guilty look on her face. “To be honest, I left in the middle of the slideshow. I wasn’t the only one. Other people also made their escape. It was dreadfully dull.”
“But Lincoln stayed to the end?”
“As I said, I wasn’t there until the end. But I’m sure he did stay. Lincoln never left early. He was so dedicated.” Her mouth drooped. “I can’t imagine anyone else running the Rotary Club. Lincolnwasthe Rotary Club.”
A young woman in a yellow bathrobe approached from across the lawn. “Is everything okay with Lincoln?” Her light blonde eyebrows were knitted with worry. “I couldn’t help noticing all the police cars out here.”
