When the four of them arrived at the victim's home in Dean's SUV, patrol officers had already cordoned off the house, with onlookers gathered outside.
The forensic team members, who had been notified, had completed a preliminary survey of the clues without moving any items inside the house.
They got out of the car.
After greeting the patrol officers, Detective Chief Leslie extended a hand towards Dean. "Detective Chief Dean, thank you for coming."
Portolia, standing nearby, batted her foxy eyes expectantly at Dean.
"No trouble at all. Maybe we'll still make it in time for lunch."
Dean led the way to the forensic team members. "Gentlemen, I'm Detective Chief Dean. Can you tell me where the victim's husband is?"
Upon hearing Dean's name, a middle-aged man with a receding hairline instinctively took two steps back, then pointed at a disheveled white man squatting outside the house, smoking a cigarette.
