Tag Archives: murder

They just never thought about it. There was no reason to.

It seemed simple and straightforward and the story fit the scene.

You can’t blame them for not looking at them. They weren’t torn or ripped or out of place. Ordinary. This is how they looked.

And when he sold the house, no eyebrows were raised and no alarm bells went off and nobody thought to look at him again.

After all, who would want to live in that house after what happened?

When the new owners moved in and decided to redecorate, nobody even thought about the possibility that evidence could be destroyed.

That the murder weapon might not fit the new homeowners aesthetic and be thrown away.

By the time they pieced it all together, by the time the victim’s family put enough pressure on the state and their request for an exhumation and new autopsy was granted, by the time an almost microscopic fiber was discovered in the corpse’s throat, well, by then it was too late.

They couldn’t match the fiber to the curtains in the house with any degree of certainty. Sure, it was a fiber used in some curtains from some manufacturers, but it was also used in other things like shirts and towels and dishcloths.

And the curtains in question were long gone and buried in some landfill and there was no hope of finding them.

And even though they would never say it to the victim’s family or to the reporters or in the station house, they would bring it up over beers over the years and they had to admit, even though they hated to, they had to admit that it was clever and they should have looked harder at the scene and maybe they missed something and, most of all, that there was nothing they could do about it now so why not just have another shot and forget about the man who got away with the perfect murder.