BROTHERLY LOVE

FICTION

Dee Raymond

When Sergeant Hamilton got there, the forensic squad was still "doing its number" on the apartment. The medical examiner, Roy Curves, was late yet again. Hamilton grunted in annoyance as his partner, Mike Ellis, began to explain why the body had not been mov- ed. In the bedroom, unmoved, the fully clothed body lay, still sprawl- ed across the white silk counterpane on the bed, where it had fallen. Her head was turned to one side, revealing her lovely profile to the detectives. Her make-up was heavy, as if she were dressed for a party. She had fallen face downward grabbing at the pillows and burying her long blood-red fingernails into the pink frills.

Hamilton bent down beside the bed to look at her more closely. The lipstick shade matched her fingernails and was complemented by the green eyeshadow she had been wearing. In death, her features were calm, her skin smooth as alabaster. Her red auburn hair had hardly been mussed by her fall, though a few strands had curved below her neck. The green two-piece suit she was wearing was obviously well-cut and intended to be revealing. Her weight pushing down on her side gave her a cleavage that was likely to be greater than when she was alive, at least to Hamilton's experienced eye.

He looked up sourly at his new partner. "What ya got?” he growl- ed.

Ellis looked back at him sharply. He waited as if he was trying to think of a suitably snappy answer. At last, he frowned, looked away from Hamilton and read, staccato-fashion, from his notebook. “Body, female, early to mid-twenties, found at approximately 9:30 a.m. by cleaner, Mrs. Vera Damiroff. Cause of death, apparently shooting -

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