“Did you look for track marks?” Stella asked.
“Her sleeves are snug. I don’t want to disturb her hands until after I’ve scraped under her nails.” Frank stepped back. “Not sure when I’ll get to her autopsy. We’re tied up with multiple victims from that residential house fire. I’ll call you.” Frank stood and signaled to his assistant.
“What do you think?” Brody asked, stepping back as the morgue assistant wheeled a gurney to the dugout. Arranging a white evidence sheet inside the black body bag, he and Frank transferred the body. Stella flinched as the bag closed over Missy’s face with a final zip.
Poor Missy.
“The needle indicates drugs, but someone beat her.” Stella turned back toward her car.
Brody fell into step beside her. “Drugs and violence often go hand-in-hand.”
“They do.”
Reporters swarmed her as she ducked under the crime scene tape. She raised a hand to block the microphone shoved in her face.
“Detective Dane, are you handling this case?”
She breathed through her first instinct, which was to tell the reporter to go away. Police Chief Horner was adamant about polite press-police relations. As long as Stella worked for the Scarlet Falls PD, she had to give the press her attention and company manners. “I’ll be working on this case, along with the rest of the Scarlet Falls Police Department.”
“What can you tell us about the victim?” Another reporter waved his mic at her. “How did she die?”
Stella leaned closer to a mic. “Cause of death will be determined by the medical examiner.”
“Can you identify the body?”
“The deceased’s identity will be publicized after next of kin are notified,” Stella said.
The shouts continued. “What can you tell us about the death? Was it murder?”
Stella held up her hand. “We’re just beginning our investigation. It’s too early for any assumptions. We’ll issue updates as information becomes available. Now you’ll have to excuse me.” Stella threaded her way through the throng to her vehicle. But the reporters’ questions hit home. She knew nothing about Missy’s adult life.
Stella and Brody got into the car, and she drove to the address listed on Missy’s driver’s license. Parking at the curb, she surveyed the one-story, gray house. “A 2004 blue Toyota Corolla is registered to Missy Green. I don’t see it here.”
“It wasn’t at the baseball field either.” Brody climbed out of the car.
“So how did she get there?” Stella followed him to the sidewalk.
Missy had lived in an apartment behind the house. Painted to match the house in front, the small unit appeared to be a converted workshop or storage building. A single cement step led to a tiny stoop and front door. They climbed the step, and Stella knocked. No one answered. Covering her eyes, she peered through the glass panes in the door.
“Can I help you?”
Stella turned. An elderly woman stood on the walkway. Her black polyester slacks swished as she pushed her four-wheeled walker forward.
“Yes, ma’am.” Stella moved her blazer to show the badge on her belt and introduced herself and Brody. “Could I have your name please?”
Under a poof of dyed brown hair, the woman’s penciled-on eyebrows rose in surprise. “I’m Mrs. Sterling. I own this property.”
“Missy is your tenant?”
“She is.” Mrs. Sterling’s wrinkled lips pressed flat. “Did something happen to her?”
“We’d like to ask you a few questions.” Stella evaded the question. Missy’s family deserved to hear the news first.
Mrs. Sterling splayed a hand above her saggy bosom. “She was that woman found at the baseball field, wasn’t she? I just saw it on the news. They didn’t give her name, but why else would two detectives be here?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Stella admitted.
“I knew there was a reason I hadn’t seen her for a few days.” Mrs. Sterling turned and sat on the padded seat of her walker. “I was hoping maybe she’d met someone.” Taking a tissue from the pocket of her sweater, she blotted her eyes. “Missy was a nice girl.”
“No trouble with her as a tenant?”
“No. None. Missy kept to herself. She worked two jobs, day shift as a cashier at the grocery store on Elm Street, and she cleaned offices at night. Didn’t leave her much time for trouble.”
“I guess not,” Stella said. “How long has she lived here?”
“Just a few months.”
“Do you know if she has any friends?”
“I’ve never seen any around, but I know her mother lives nearby. If you want to look in her apartment, I can get my key.” She rocked back and forth twice to gain enough momentum to shift to her feet.