“I did find small traces of the light powder residue that is usually associated with surgical latex gloves,” Roger stated as if he had said that he had found wine in the wine bottle.

“Well, now,” I said. “Okay for me to look around?”

“Everything’s been dusted, if that’s what you mean,” Jake responded. He took a toothpick out of his mouth and tucked it into the left breast pocket of his deputy’s shirt.

“Take a look,” Dad said, and then gave Jake a look that said back off.

I walked across the sculpted Berber carpet, which covered the entire house save the mahogany floors in the kitchen, dining, and foyer areas.

In the kitchen, brass pots, colanders, and ladles hung over a butcher-block island. Like the counters, there was nothing on it, and it had been cleaned to the point of shining. Expensive wineglasses were suspended under the glassed cabinet housing his fine china.

I walked out of the spotless kitchen into the formal living room. Every single piece of upholstered furniture sported carefully placed afghans, as if being preserved for an event yet to come. Every piece of wooden furniture was fitted with a sheet of custom-cut glass to cover the top.

With the exception of the dead body in the living room, the entire house could have been a fine furniture store showroom.

Evidently the crime-scene investigation was nearly concluded when I had been called. The house was virtually empty. I did, however, pass by a young female deputy as I was walking up the stairs, but she didn’t seem to be investigating.

I smiled and nodded at her. She didn’t return either gesture.

She obviously felt the need to establish her seriousness as a law enforcement officer at a crime-scene.

I was convinced.

The second story of the house was as immaculate as the first—nothing out of place and no sign that human beings actually resided here.

Every hallway had a long plastic runner covering the carpet, making my shoes sound like small Skill saws as I shuffled along them.

There were three bedrooms—and if someone had ever spent a single night in any of them, I couldn’t tell it.

The one I assumed was Russ’s, because of its size and attached bathroom, was nearly two times the size of my trailer. The bed, a king-size monstrosity, was at least four feet off the floor with massive spiral posts at each corner and looked to be mahogany. The other furniture in the room seemed to be an eclectic gathering of priceless antiques gleaned from different parts of the world—an armoire, tallboy, full-length free-standing mirror, vanity, and dresser.