She stashed the brightly colored boxes in the back of the closet and sprinted up the stairs, tossing her coat to the floor. "I'm going to be late!" she murmured. She grabbed a robe and headed to the bathroom..." A quick shower- "
He had slipped in through the slightly ajar door. Rushing to not be late, Susan didn't realize she'd left it open. The coroner listest her time of death at around 6:30 p.m.; an hour before the art gallery Christmas fundraiser and showing of the hottest new artist in town. She had planned every aspect, ensuring that her wealthiest and most influential clients would be there. She persuaded Chef Jean-Pierre to handle the food. He was impossible to get for an event as he was booked solid 2 years in advance. Susan could be quite persuasive and even agreed to host an event in his honor for free. Another gig she'd have to work magic on or go broke trying.
Everyone loved her....well, almost everyone. Someone held enough contempt to mutilate her body after shooting her in the head. She was laid out in pieces, creating a circle with her head in the center....eyes wide open and a christmas bow placed on top. Mistletoe was jammed in her throat and pine scented candles burned around her. There was a message here...but what?
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