Red_Roses_and_Black_Dahlias_-_Macy_T

glaring at the elements in front of me.
At the center, I put a picture of Jack and Marcella Raymond I had gotten
from their house on the day we went to retrieve some stuff with Sofia. They
were both smiling for the cameras, Jack was sitting on a chair while his wife
stood behind him with a perfectly manicured hand on his shoulder. The
politician poster card. Marcella’s short blond hair (she dyed it, I think) and
tanned skin looked perfect, as always, and the cream high-heels she wore
made her look even taller than she already was.
Staring at them, I narrowed my eyes, thinking maybe if I concentrated
enough the answer would leap in front of me.
“What the hell happened to you two…” I had to cut my musings short
when I started putting the pictures of our other suspects all around theirs.
Conan went in first, because even though his body was now mostly a pile
of gunk— Jerry’s words, not mine, I still didn’t trust that son of a bitch. He
had the perfect motive, he was creepy enough and we actually had proof he
had a key to Raymond’s house. Next to his picture, I set Harold’s, wondering
what these two had in common or how they could even have met. It didn’t
make sense, they grew up in totally different towns— Harold was from North
Ravenbridge, while Conan was born and raised here in Lakestone.
It was hardly even possible these two ever crossed paths, let alone
planned murders together.
I had retrieved Conan’s phone information from his cell company and
there were no strange numbers listed there. There weren’t many numbers to
begin with, to be completely honest. The only thing that threw me off a bit
was that he had called Jack’s number several times after his death, which
didn’t make sense given the fact that Jack’s phone and all his personal
belongings were sealed and at the station. Maybe he just wanted to hear his
voice.
Weirdo.