Chapter Three- Judging Art
The yellow cab stopped in front of her porch and Astraea got out and began unloading her suitcase. At the sounds of the slamming door, Mrs. Ramirez rushed out to greet her daughter with sloppy kisses on her cheeks.
"My pumpkin! What is this…" she said, lifting Astraea's hands and pinching her waist as if she was poultry for sale.
"Mama…" Astraea began, knowing full well her mother will not stop fretting over her daughter's weight loss since she went to London.
"Now, my pumpkin, don't you worry about your room… I've had Henrietta clean out the guest room just for you!" her mother chirped; her grip still firm on her arms and pulling her towards the kitchen.
"My babycakes!" someone exclaimed as she entered the kitchen. The pudgy, pot bellied man gestured her to his lap as his smile widened like that of a Cheshire cat. Astraea let out a gust of air and tried to smile, anticipating, albeit dreading the bear hug that she was about to receive.
Her father literally lifted her up onto his lap and rested her on his round tummy. His hearty laugh thundered through the room as he hugged her like she was some down pillow.
"Papa… I'm glad to see you too," Astraea managed to say. "Where's my evil half, Papa?"
"Hey! I heard that!" Astraea turned to see her brother holding a pan full of flagella beans.
"Mmm… smells wonderful," she said and using her fingers started picking at some beans from the steamy pan, only to get her hands slapped by her mother.
"Theo will feed you, and so will I, but at the table," chided her mother. "What have those little Britons done to my pumpkin till she forgets her manners?"
Later on, after a gastronomical five course dinner, Astraea had to drag herself to the couch, where she lay spent.
"Hey babycakes, lost your appetite?" Theron said as he plumped himself next to her, feeling just as spent as his sister.
"Mama cooked for an army and you were no help!" she exclaimed, trying to push him off the couch.
"Yeah, yeah, which you had almost three helpings of," he replied. "Anyway, I think I'm going to take you to the lab first thing tomorrow. I'm going to introduce you to some people and we can get started. I don't think it's anything complicated. I've done most of the post-mortem but we might have missed something."
Astraea mumbled some unintelligible reply and Theron found himself talking to his snoring sister. Shaking his head, he lifted her and carried her to her bed.
***
"Astraea, this is Ciro Threadgill. He's the chief investigator for the crime scene division," said Theron, introducing his sister to his colleague.
"Pleasure to meet you, sir," Astraea smiled as she shook his hand. She liked his smile. He was very enthusiastic and had a bright smile to his face.
After a lengthy discussion and explanation of the evidence and possible directions to be taken, Astraea found herself feeling rather sick and a little grossed out at what was being outlined to her. There were no signs of forced entry or DNA evidence that suggested a third party at the scene. Astraea figured that this Mrs. Sybilla Wilde must either be a mastermind criminal or a really nasty scapegoat for a perfectly carried out murder.
"The only thing we know so far is that, the Reverend was shot with a .38mm caliber at close range. The police are currently looking in that direction for those stores that carry this model within the area. But that will probably bring them to a dead end and back to square one," Theron concluded.
Astraea was frowning and suddenly turned to Ciro and said, "Your name means 'sun' in Spanish you know. I think it suits your personality very well."
Ciro was laughing so loud; Theron had to close the door to prevent inquisitive ears from stopping by.
"That is by far the strangest response I've ever had to a detailed explanation of a crime scene," he said, still laughing.
"I don't think this is the work of a vengeful wife. Have the police looked at past lovers or current lovers that the Reverend may have had?" Astraea asked.
"Honey, you change your sails faster than the wind blows. Well, Doctor, you need to understand that the Reverend is an extremely respected man in his county and his extramarital-curricular activities are not something that we would want to ask aloud publicly," Ciro replied.
"What is it babycakes? Tell me what's those wheels in your head is suggesting," said Theron.
"He was shot at the head to swiftly kill him. But surely the shot to the heart must have eluded a broken heart of some sort and the testicles; a betrayal. This person, who killed him, isn't just an angry lover. He or she likes to work with things within their control. Think about it- it would be difficult to emasculate someone if they were constantly running for their life right? I'm guessing this person has power or is used to executing with power."
"My, my, that's quite a good theory you have there Miss," said a gruff voice that just entered from the door.
"Oh hey! Astraea, this is Detective Inspector Threadgill, the Detective in charge of this investigation and the bane of my existence," Ciro said, winking at her.
Astraea looked back and forth between them and laughed.
"Ciro, the proper way to introduce the ladies to your older brother is to play upon my best parts. Hi, you can call me Cyrus. I think whatever you said just earned you some personal time in my office," he said, smiling at her.
Astraea looked at Ciro and said, "Hey sunshine, as little siblings, I'm on your side 100% of the way man."
****
An hour later, the four of them found themselves back at the crime scene. The police tape was still in place and luckily this time, the reporters and journalist were not camping outside as they had a few days before.
Astraea held on to her brother's hand as they stepped inside the house. Something about this house caused the alarms in her head to go off. Theron kissed her forehead and led her in. Astraea had never been to a crime scene before, unlike her brother. After her short stint at medical school, she decided pathology was her thing and switched specialty. But gruesome crime scenes were never on her repertoire.
"Shh," Cyrus said, the moment they were inside. "I hear someone. Stay there and don't move until I come down. Ciro, stay with the lady. You, come with me." He gestured to Theron, as they slithered their way up.
Theron felt his heart in his throat, thumping hard. He wasn't sure what to expect. He wasn't a trained cop!
When they reached the top of the stairs, he heard it- soft sobs coming from one of the rooms. Cyrus motioned him closer to the room and kicked the door open, shouting "Freeze! Don't move!"
Then he saw it; her wide, doe-like eyes staring straight at the gun pointing at her. Theron ignored Cyrus's instructions and knelt down beside her.
"Sybilla? Look at me," he said softly, tilting her chin slightly with his fingers. Her eyes had so much fear in them, he thought. Was this woman capable of murder?
