CHAPTER ONE
The biting March wind whipped around us as we stepped out of our unmarked police car. We pulled our long black overcoats closer to our bodies to shield ourselves from the biting wind. The air hung heavily with the scent of damp earth and something else, something subtly floral yet chillingly out of place with the scene before us. I gazed at the stately red brick mansion with its white columns.
We arrived at Fox Hollow Mansion. The owners turned the mansion into a bed and breakfast. Weary travelers who wanted peace and quiet from the hustle and bustle of the city stayed here. The mansion was on the outskirts of the city, Willow Cove, with its private park of various flower gardens. We could feel a stillness in the air as we walked on the stone sidewalk to the entrance.
The yellow tape was already in place. A stark yellow barrier to keep the curiosity seekers out, and to allow those permitted to investigate. Two uniform officers stood guard, their faces etched with a weariness that spoke volumes about the nature of their work. The two officers saw the gold detective badges clipped to our coats. We exchanged nods as we entered the living room.
“Detective Randi Trent and Detective Ava Karsen, please follow me,” Detective Sergeant Seth Miller said.
Sergeant Miller, a husky-built man, walked briskly to the elevator. I was Sergeant Miller’s partner before Ava’s promotion to detective. Now, Ava and I were partners on our first case together. Seth was anxious, and his face showed frustration. He ran his fingers through his graying hair. The elevator door opened with a ring of the bell. We entered the elevator, and then Seth pushed the button for the second floor.
When we arrived on the second floor, we followed Seth to room number five at the end of the hallway. Seth opened the cherry door. The gold-plated number on the door shone, as did the door handle. Inside, the luxury room with cream plush carpeting, cherry, and brass trim was a life abruptly extinguished. Lying on an oak desk with its top gleaming in the sunlight next to the window was a half-finished crossword puzzle and a blue ink pen. The padded desk chair was next to the desk. A plush armchair in the corner of the room was near a bookcase filled with a variety of books. A floor lamp stood over the armchair. Then, we saw her, the victim.
A young woman with short fiery red hair lay on the four-poster bed on top of the covers, her lifeless body with her eyes staring vacantly at the ceiling. She was wearing a long, white, floral lace silk nightgown with lace trim around the short sleeves and the bottom of the nightgown. The vibrant color of her life, now dulled to the muted hues of life leaving her body. A single white long-stem rose, pristine and unblemished, rested delicately on her chest. Its white petals are a stark contrast to the life that once blossomed around it.
Doctor Emily Carter, the medical examiner I had worked with before, approached cautiously. She waited for the forensic team to finish with the pictures. The forensic team swarmed around the body, their hushed whispers punctuated by the rhythmic clicks of cameras.
Fingerprints were taken, and evidence was carefully gathered in hopes of finding the person responsible. Nothing was overlooked by forensics.
Ava observed them, her mind already racing, piecing together the fragments of information that would eventually weave the tapestry of this investigation. The meticulous nature of the crime scene suggested a killer who was not only intelligent but also possessed a degree of obsessive-compulsive behavior, a need for order and control.
The scene held a chilling stillness. There was no sign of forced entry, no frantic struggle, just a chilling precision that spoke of a methodical mind, a killer who reveled in control. I crouched beside the body, my gaze sweeping across the room, searching for anything unusual, any clue that could unravel the twisted narrative before us. The air was thick with the scent of the rose, a jarring perfume in this scene.
When forensics finished, Doctor Carter maneuvered her petite body to examine the victim. Her long brown hair was in a braid that went down her back. Doctor Carter looked at the neck and gently touched the back of the head to try to find trauma. Next, she looked at the arms, hands, and then the legs for any injuries or bruises. She was perplexed. Doctor Carter looked at the victim’s face. There were no injuries to the face. She took a second look at the hands, paying attention to the pink nail polish on the nails.
“Did you find something?” I asked as I watched Doctor Carter look at the victim’s face again.
“It has occurred to me that the makeup on the victim’s face appears to be flawless, perfect, a little too perfect for an average person. There is no sign of trauma. The murder made her look beautiful for a purpose, but for what I don’t know,” she replied.
Doctor Carter paused to examine the makeup. She removed a magnifying glass from her satchel to examine the victim’s face more closely.
“Professional-grade makeup, very subtle but definitely there. I’ll test samples at the lab, and we’ll know more about it,” Doctor Carter said, her eyes narrowed.
The long-stemmed white rose with its floral water tube attached to the end of the stem caught my attention. I nodded to Doctor Carter as my fingers on my right hand gently traced the curves of the fresh rose petals. This wasn’t a crime of passion; this was an act of calculated artistry. The rose wasn’t just a macabre decoration; it was a signature, a calling card of a killer who delighted in leaving their mark, a testament to their chilling mastery.
Upon hearing Seth calling my name, I turned my head to see that he was standing near the oak dresser. Ava and I walked up to the dresser. Seth pointed to the jewelry.
“Everything is neatly laid out with the necklaces and earrings together. The makeup pouch wasn’t open. The clothes in the closet are neatly hung. The room’s remarkably tidy except for that…” Seth gestured toward the rose.
I noticed the large handbag on the loveseat. I opened the handbag to search for a wallet or something to identify the victim. I saw a cellphone and a tan clutch wallet. I removed the leather wallet. I carefully opened the snap clasp. I laid the wallet on the cushion. Credit cards, cash, a business card, and a driver’s license were found inside. I handed the business card to Seth.
“The victim’s name is Eleanor Chandler of Laurel Springs. It’s about a three-hour drive from Willow Cove,” I said.
“She’s an event planner,” Seth replied, reading the card out loud.
We returned the wallet to the handbag and then gave it to forensics to have it checked for prints or fibers. I requested the techs to check the cell phone and laptop for any leads as I handed them the laptop in its carrying case. I saw a breakfast tray on a round table next to the bay window. I walked to the table. The tray had a plate with a waffle, bacon, coffee, and juice untouched. A bottle of syrup and a butter dish were sitting next to the glass of juice. I glanced at the victim, who was being placed in a body bag by Doctor Cater’s team. The rose was carefully bagged and taken by forensics for evidence. Seth decided he would follow up with the business card by talking to her employer upon leaving the room.
“When the maid brought Ms. Chandler her breakfast tray, she thought Ms. Chandler overslept because Ms. Chandler didn’t have the door open like the day before. The maid used her key to enter the room and found Ms. Chandler after placing the tray on the table. The maid immediately notified the manager, who called us,” Seth said.
Ava showed the makeup pouch to Doctor Carter. She unzipped the pouch to look at the makeup. Doctor Carter saw lipstick, different shades of eye shadow, and pink nail polish. She decided to take the pouch to compare it with the victim.
I entered the bathroom. The bathtub and shower were dry, and there were no towels or washcloths on the drying racks. I noticed small perfume bottles on the bath vanity counter. I opened the clothes hamper. Inside the hamper, I saw a light-yellow ruffled dress, panties, bra, and stockings. I requested forensics to take the clothes and perfume bottles for testing. I opened the bathroom towel closet and opened the vanity doors. Even though I saw nothing unusual, I had forensics take pictures. The bathroom was clean and neat.
Ava and I decided to interview the manager and staff. We took the stairs to the first floor. We wanted to see the layout of the mansion. The manager was an older lady with her copper hair in a bun. She was waiting for us at the sign-in counter. We saw a nameplate on her blue suit jacket: Judy Scott, Manager. After we introduced ourselves, she requested we talk in her office. Ava and I followed her down a short hall into her office. She was nervous. She sat down behind her desk. We started asking her questions about Ms. Chandler, checking in, and the reason for the stay.
“Ms. Chandler checked in three days ago. She informed me that she was going to her cousin’s wedding and asked for recommendations for a beauty salon. I recommended Sasha’s Hair Salon to get her hair done for the wedding. Ms. Chandler was scheduled to check out at the end of the following week,” Judy said.
“Ms. Scott, were you aware of any visitors Ms. Chandler may have had?” I asked.
She shook her no as she let out a sigh in disbelief. We requested to use her office to interview the staff and to fingerprint her and the staff to eliminate them as possible suspects. She agreed. As we asked the staff questions, the forensics fingerprinted. The answer to our questions was the same. No one heard or saw anything unusual that was suspicious and out of the ordinary. The staff stated Ms. Chandler was pleasant and friendly to them. Ms. Chandler tipped them well. We gave our card to the manager in case she remembered something later.
Later, at the station, Ava and I started a crime board with the scene photos. The rose, pristine and defiant in its position, continued to haunt us. The single flower seemed to mock the chaos it had wrought, a symbol of the cold calculation behind the act. We felt the weight of the case settle upon our shoulders. This wasn’t just another unsolved murder; this was a game, a perverse dance between hunter and prey, and we were being challenged to engage in the macabre choreography. This single white rose was a silent taunt, a morbid invitation to a game of cat and mouse, a psychological battle of wits between us and the murderer.
The initial reports trickled in about Eleanor Chandler’s life. She was twenty-four years old, single, and worked for Platinum. She was one of their event planners. No known enemies, no significant debts, a seemingly ordinary life cut short by an extraordinary brutality. The initial interviews Seth did with Eleanor’s employer and colleagues yielded little information. She was described as hard-working, pleasant, but reserved. Nobody seemed to know her intimately. While Ava and I went to talk to the family, Seth went to Sasha’s Hair Salon to see if Eleanor was there.
