The Jackal of Inpu by Robert J. Muller EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
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- Author: Robert J. Muller
- Language: English
- Genre: Alternative History
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MACINTYRE INVESTIGATES A CRIME
SCENE
Paperwork. Hutyt-er-Semetyu Cheryl MacIntyre hated it. She’d been
hating it for two solid days. So she rejoiced when her boss tapped her for a
murder. Even late in the day, a new body always got the blood moving.
The blood, in this case, was all over the kitchen floor and walls in large
spatters. MacIntyre concentrated on the body first. The crime scene
photographers had finished and the forensics people had started their search
for micro-clues. She examined the scene from outside the criminalists’
perimeter.
Middle-aged, distinguished-looking man. Well-to-do, if this was his
enormous mansion on the Tjesut, the prominent Menmenet ridge that
favored palaces, mansions, and northern views of the bay and its islands.
No sign of bruising, rigor just setting in, a nearly severed head from a knife
cut across the throat, no other wounds she could see. The cut looked deep
enough to have partially or fully severed the spine. The man died fast.
There were big swatches of blood from the arterial spray, the direction
showing he’d twisted as he collapsed. The spatters moved along the wall
right up to the kitchen counter. The w’abu from the Temple of SekhmetHut-her would tell them more, and time of death, which wasn’t that long
ago—rigor not advanced, blood tacky, body still warm. Body sprawled
every which way on the floor. No clues there. The killer got him standing
up from the height of the spatter.
“Look at this, MacIntyre.” Her boss, Idnu-er-Semetyu Djehutymes, held an
evidence bag with a knife in it, a large one. Kind of unusual: wooden
handle, oldish, well-used, dull gray rather than shiny metal, 25cm of blade,
looked damn sharp.
“Where did you find it, Mes?”
He pointed at a spot on the floor marked with tape. Did the murderer toss
the knife to the floor after the act? She looked again: lots of blood on the
knife and handle.
“Blood?”
“It lay in the pool. There’s blood on only one side of the knife. He tossed it
next to the body after the killing.”
“Murder of passion? Just one cut, solid and deep, through the neck, then
threw the knife down? Passion usually means a couple dozen stabs to the
body,” she said. “Vengeful hate, anger, that’s a cut throat. Intent, full intent,
but maybe not premeditated.”
Her boss eyed her with disfavor, knowing where she was going. “Keep an
open mind, MacIntyre. No conclusions. There’s one witness to interview.”
The Wife. It was always the Wife. She hated interviewing the Wife.
Her boss read her mind. “It’s the wife. I’ll take this one.” Praise be to all the
gods of Kemet, she wouldn’t have to put herself through another wife
interview. He continued, looking at his notebook, “Name of Neferaset. She
found the body. Her husband, name of Nekhen. That’s what I know so far.”
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