Until Death

11.

Detective Angel came down from his vehicle and walked into the house, trying to feel how the city's favorite married man enter his house for the last time. Was he nervous? Clueless? Or, he knew something the rest of them didn't?

With a sigh that mingled with the cold, he stepped into the house, opening the door as gently as he could. Who knew what he find by coming back?

Angel wondered why Jacklyn Romero would incriminate herself if all she wanted was a divorce. Was it a crime of passion? He wished he had been the first person to see her. He would have known for sure.

He had one way of finding out if her motive had been revenge and stabbing his body a bonus. Or had the killer-the small possibility of her not being the killer-had been after something he hadn't found in the office? If that was the case, the murder was so much twisted than he imagined. Besides the money are every corner of the house, why could a guy like Antonio Romero have done that would be worth killing for?

Angel unsealed the crime-scene tape and let himself in. The smell of lemons clung to him and he pressed on his search for answers. There must have been something that he had missed or the criminalists who had gone over it, dusting for prints, searching for hair had skipped as the spotlight was on the only person who had reasons to.

He went to Antonio's office, next. The more-than-decent-size space had been awash in fingerprint residue, paper and several tape marking evidence locations on the rug. The blood of the victim had soaked into the carpet and the drawers had been pulled out of the cabinets, out of his desk.

"You aren't supposed to be here," Angel said.

Jane Wang, who was standing with her back turned to him, jumped a little as she saw him and backed away from his narrowed eyes that followed her.

"Detective, I didn't think I would see you so soon, again." she said, but his eyes fixed on any change in her and noticed her hands shaking. He knew she was hiding something and that thing scared her to death.

"This is the point, I would said freeze to you as the murderer. But I asked what are you doing here on an active crime scene." he said, leaning back against the cold wall behind him and crossed his arms and legs to hear her excuse.

He irked at the thought of sitting close or standing near a bloody scene with the designer clothes he wore.

"You didn't ask me. Detective. You say you didn't expect me, here." Jane said, regaining bet composure like the brown little coat she wore. "Do you know how my hands itch to clean this house? I'm afraid it is a bad habit. Can you help me with that, Detective Angel."

He shook his head. "No, I can't. I informed you, this can't be taken care of, yet. If you really wanted to clean, you could have called. I would have know what was touched and was moved. Something can be missing, right?"

"I don't have your number." she said, then her eyes darkened. "Are you accusing me of theft? I can assure nothing has been missing since I worked here. Or will be missing since I'm here." she raised one of her dark, elegant brow.

"No, I didn't say that. Putting words in my mouth, are we? I'm saying that is how a crime plays. It doesn't matter to me or the force if it is your job to clean a house. My job is clear to me and that is making sure no one is above the law and to incriminate criminals. To keep this city clean."

"Then you are doing a job, keep this city clean. A man just died a few hours ago in your city."

"You are doing well for a housekeeper, who couldn't keep her master from death. You probably slept through his torture and tormented death." he  fired back with a smile.