C.: Maybe I will give writing another try. Let's see.
Beware the ides of May? No, that sounds too familiar. My keyboard just locked up! Et tu, Brute`? I guess I will go back to reading d.c.'s book. Where was I? Oh, yes, the introduction to "Precision; A Crime of Passion"
INTRODUCTION July 2, 2025. Huntsville, TX. Texas Department of Criminal Justi ce. 0900 hours: Magruder stared at the picture as well as the words that were printed on the Medical Examiner’s report for the twentieth time. He knew there was one more detail that would clue him in to why he felt that this was not an open and shut case of murder/suicide. The lack of blood, along with the pre- cise cuts, had been the first two things that had bothered him. The third was the timing of the incident. Why would someone who had practically come back from the dead kill herself, along with her husband? Labeling this murder, a “crime of passion,” made no sense to the veteran detecti ve. “That’s it!” Magruder thought to himself. He had his answer. Jay Magruder had moved to this small town some seventy miles north of his home- town of Houston, Texas when he had retired from the Houston Police Department as a first-grade detective. This town is where Texas’s death row exists along- side the prison where inmates who make parole are processed to be placed back into the free world.
After retiring from the Houston Police Department, Magruder had decided that he needed an extra source of income besides his police retirement fund. Having had nine children by three different wives, (three from each marriage) Magruder had to still pay child support to his two most recent ex-wives, and child support for six children adds up quickly. At least, he thought, the first three are out of college and self-sufficient now. However, Magruder was tired of the fast pace that Houston offered its police force. He desired a more slow-paced job, as well as a quieter setting for his life. This sleepy hamlet where the Texas Department of Criminal Justice headquartered fit that description. Although Magruder’s job description was, in theory, a promotion, the TDCJ job of senior investigative officer did not offer the same excitement that being a first-grade detective in the nation’s fourth largest city did. Magruder grew bored of his new job in a matter of months. One can only read the Houston Chronicle from beginning to end for so many days before he becomes bored and needs a distraction. For Magruder, this had taken him less than six months. At the twenty- week mark, he had asked permission to look through the Department of Criminal Justice’s unsolved cold case files. One had caught his eye. While this particular case had been closed when it was termed a murder-suicide by the local District Attorney, at least one other person had the same uneasy feeling that Magruder did– the person who assigns the files to their rightful boxes. S/he had placed this case in the “Unsolved, Investigation Discontinued” box. S/he disagreed with the Medical Examiner’s report. Magruder was vaguely familiar with both people involved in this case. The man was an excellent musician. He was a singer- songwriter who sometimes put on concerts at local churches. When Jay had been dating his second wife, they had attended a concert in which the man had first performed astoundingly on his piano. After he left his keyboard, the man had picked up an electric guitar that was strung for a right-handed person and played it. He then set that guitar down and picked up an acoustic guitar that was strung for a left-handed person. It did not take a detective to realize the difference between these two guitars. The man was ambidextrous. If the murderer had left the knife in either of his hands, Magruder would not have thought twice about it. S/he did not. The murderer left the knife in the woman’s right hand. Since about 90% of everyone in the world is right-handed, the murderer was playing the per- centages. So, the murderer knew HIM well enough to know that he would never lock his doors at night (there had been no signs of breaking and entering or a struggle, either). The murderer did not know the woman well enough to know that SHE was left-handed. Magruder knew that SHE was left-handed because his third wife and he, as well as the woman, had been on the same committee with Big Brothers and Big Sisters of Greater Houston. It was from this organization that Jay and his third wife had adopted his youngest three children, so he was well acquainted with the structure of this organization. The woman signed a lot of checks for her charity because she was the trea- surer. Magruder had realized very early in his dealings with this woman that she signed all of her checks left-handed.
She, in fact, was so left- handed that she would shake hands with her left hand unless corrected. The knife, however, was in the woman’s right hand. That, along with the minute amount of blood left at the scene, and the precision of the cuts (too precise for a crime of passion) led first-grade detective Jay Magruder to believe that this was a case of murder one (pre- meditated). Murder by a third, unidentified person or people.
Each victim had a cut over the carotid artery that was exactly 2.54 centimeters long (or exactly one inch). For anyone to do that while committing suicide, Magruder thought, would be extremely hard. To do it with one’s non-dominant hand would be impossible. The single set of fingerprints on the knife, which were also of the woman’s right hand, and the timing of the incident led Magruder to believe that he had a case to follow. “I have my proof,” Jay told his detective sergeant. “OH? What is it?” asked the fortyish female detective sergeant as she glanced up from her copy of the local newspaper. She knew Magruder was looking for something to do, so she was skeptical when he had mentioned this case to her days (or was it weeks, Sarge was not sure) ago. “She was left-handed. The murderer put the knife in the wrong hand.” Magruder was smug, but succinct. “Did you know her?” The detective sergeant’s interest was now piqued. “No, but my ex did.” “Which one?” The detective sergeant was now amused. “Number three.” Magruder was undeterred. “They were both on a board of directors with Big Brothers and Big Sisters of Greater Houston. Number three knew her well. I personally shook hands with her, and I saw her sign checks. She was the treasurer, so number three and I saw her sign a lot of checks, all with her left hand. She was definitely left-handed.” Magruder rested his case. "Look, Jay, I am right-handed, but I shoot left-handed,” the detective sergeant began. “Same here,” Magruder interrupted. “My left eye is my stronger eye, so I shoot left-handed. But here, try to cut something left- handed, and do it as precisely as she did.” Magruder handed the sergeant his pocket knife. She tried to cut her newspaper in a straight line with her left hand and failed miserably.
“Okay,” replied the detective sergeant. “We have (she imitated a drum roll on the desk with her hands) very little blood, pre- cise cuts, allegedly with the woman’s off hand, only one set of fingerprints on a knife that the woman supposedly carried with her everywhere (and of the wrong hand), and the knife being placed in the woman’s non-dominant hand. Mr. Magruder, I think you may have a case.”
Magruder smiled. “I’ll take out an ad in the local newspaper to see if anyone knows anything.” The detective sarge interrupted. “Newspaper?! It’s the twen- ty-first century. Use social media. Our Facebook account is faster and it’s free.”
“Okay,” Magruder sighed. Show me how.”
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