‘Muscle memory for starters,’ she said, moving to the left side of the bed.
She pointed to a pair of moccasin slippers positioned neatly just in front of the bedside cabinet.
‘If you’re a slipper wearer it’s automatic. Your legs sweep over the bed and your feet go straight into them. It’s an unconscious act. If you’re planning on traipsing around your house loading guns and starting fires you might not want to do it barefoot.’
Bryant opened his mouth as he searched his memory bank for an angle to argue. He closed it again.
‘Agreed?’
‘Let’s just say I see your point. That’s the slippers. What about the pockets?’
‘Did you see any in Helen’s nightdress?’
‘Do nightdresses normally have pockets?’ he asked, turning to Leanne.
She shrugged. ‘Dunno. I sleep commando.’
‘Urgh, not on my sofa you don’t,’ Kim said. ‘Tonight, you take the spare bed and you put some clothes on.’
‘Pockets,’ Bryant reminded her.
‘We know Helen could find her way around a gun. She must have known how many shells the gun held and that she would need to reload at least once. She had no pockets, so you’re telling me she carried the spare shells in one of her hands when she needed both hands to aim the gun. Think about it. In either hand it’s going to be a hurdle,’ she said as she heard footsteps coming up the stairs.
‘Just in time, Mitch,’ she said as the techie came into view.
‘Heard you were sniffing around again, Inspector.’
‘Err…I’m the police and it’s a crime scene, Mitch.’
‘I know that. Three dead folks and one shooter gave it away.’
‘Leave the smart-arse comments to your colleague,’ she advised. ‘And find out how a fifth party got in and out.’
He shook his head. ‘Didn’t happen. Everything was checked yesterday. The fire service broke the deadbolts on both the front door and the kitchen door. Every window in the place was checked and found to be either locked or closed properly, except for that small kitchen window that wouldn’t even accommodate a medium-sized dog.’
‘Check again, Mitch. With every minute that passes, I grow more convinced that someone else was here.’
‘Insp—’
‘Mitch, I’m not backing down.’
He shook his head in defeat and headed back down the stairs.
‘We’re now looking for motive,’ Kim said, stepping back into the hallway. ‘And this is where I want to start,’ she said, heading back towards Rozzie’s room.
‘We know that she was pregnant. We don’t know by whom or even who knew.’
As she spoke, both she and Bryant were opening drawers and taking a quick look inside.
‘Helen was a diary keeper so…’
‘We’re assuming those are Helen’s diaries in the bin cos we thought she started the fire, but they could be Rozzie’s,’ Bryant offered.
‘Too many. Few teenagers keep a journal or diary religiously. There were at least ten books in the bin.’
Kim wondered if teenagers put deep and meaningful stuff on their phones or iPad these days, both of which were long gone to Ridgepoint.
Kim dropped to her knees.