Neatly presented men in their dress slacks and crisply ironed shirts, stood rooted to the spot long enough to exchange puzzled expressions. Marcus Ryan was the first to react, by yanking open the door. Aware of Frank crowding close behind him, he took one step across the threshold, and saw a tragic scene.

The wide corridor, although exceeding a hundred feet in length, seemed jam-packed with an air of mystery, even though there was but a single clue left behind by fate. A dead woman. First glance said she was African-American, in her late teens or early twenties. Approximately five and a half feet tall, her thin body was sprawled in a pool of blood, belly up, head turned to one side. Unseeing eyes stared at the closed elevator doors.

"Uh, guys," Mrs. Doreen Patrick gasped, her outstretched arms gesturing in all directions. She was still seated in her swivel chair, both feet on its star shaped base to keep them off the carpeting. Her voice had become squeaky. "I thought the poor thing was dead, but then she wasn't, only now she really is!"

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Book 4 - Time for Crime