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significance.
"Any idea how many shots were fired?" Vic slid across a row of pews to peer into the bag at the hollow in the crushed piece of lead. "Looks like fiber to me. Hmmm."
"We asked the witnesses what they heard. Not even the pop of a silencer. They said it was like a movie. The music was playing; the bride fell down," Mike said, taking his turn to look at what was left of the crushed bullet.
"You know, I'm wondering if there were two shooters." Vic returned to his photographing.
"How do you figure that?"
"The first shot hit her in the back. But another one hit her in the side of the face."
"She must have twisted as she fell. ..." April murmured.
"Twisted toward the first shot, not away? Uh-uh."
April shrugged. They'd have to figure the path of shots from the dress and body. But none of them had seen the body. Until they saw Tovah's injuries for themselves, everything was speculation. The physics of the thing reminded her of the rabbi's asking for the return of the wedding gown tomorrow. This made her nervous. Everything had to be measured and reconstructed. These things took time. Vic worked with strings of different lengths to map the projectiles of the bullets.
No, no, the shots couldn't have come from two sources, she thought. More than three people would have been hit. Odds were it was one shooter. If they were lucky, he'd bled, or left some DNA somewhere.
Who knew if an ear print would be admissible evidence in court. She'd have to ask the DA.
She shook her head at the bad luck of a Yankees game. None of the five valets who'd parked the cars had seen anyone come out of the building before the screaming started. They had been listening to a baseball game, drinking sodas, and smoking under the beach umbrella set up for them. They'd not been aware of anything wrong until people started screaming and running out.
"Do you think the perp could have joined the crowd?" Mike echoed April's thought.
"What are the odds of that?"
"Why not? He could have stashed the gun and run down the stairs," Ken said.
Vic put down the camera and scanned the ceiling.
"What?" April asked.
"I don't know. Seems pretty clear to me the shots came from the lobby. We have the one bullet here. I got one from the pillar over there. Three people were hit. You don't know how many he got with each shot. Always look up," he murmured.
"You going to need a ladder?" April asked.
"Yeah, I'm going to need a ladder."
And this was going to take all night, she thought.
She left the three men talking and returned to the lobby to contemplate the door where the shooter might have left his signature ear. Ken had used tape and fumes, not powder, to lift the ear and many fingerprints from the door. There was nothing to see on it now.
She went down the winding stairs, scrutinizing the steps for blood or evidence. She didn't see anything big enough to catch her attention on the carpet, but Vic would no doubt comb it for fibers. A piece of gum was stuck under the banister. She didn't touch it. At the bottom of the stairs, she caught her breath at a sudden display of wealth. Palm trees and fruit trees with real oranges on them marked the passage from the ho-hum to the extraordinary.
Not broken down yet because the caterers had not been allowed back inside, the party room still had its fifteen tables set with lace tablecloths, silver flatware and silver goblets, crystal glasses, floral arrangements so striking in their appearance it was impossible to imagine anyone thinking them up. Tovah and Schmuel was printed on white ribbons that wrapped the party favors. Blue Tiffany boxes were on the plates in front of many seats. Dishes full of candies were scattered around. On one of the many stations where food had been set out, a large ice sculpture of a bridal couple was slowly melting.
Sad, very sad. A few minutes later, April found the dressing room with the gowns hanging on a rolling coatrack, the table scattered with some hairpins, a comb and brush, containers of makeup, a