Jo: So, the victim was struck several times with an unidentified object. There were no weapons found, blood splatter was irregular with traces all over the floor
Henry: Hmm...
Jo: What do you think?
Henry: What I've discovered is that the scene of any crime is much larger than this space. To truly understand this murder we must go back seconds, minutes, hours even.
Jo: Henry, I've been doing this for ten years let's go easy on the lecture.
Henry: You asked me what I thought...
Jo: My mistake. Please,
Henry: I think we should go back, walk in Gloria's shoes. Her [...] pumps to be exact, they look like Fall of sixty-one.
Jo: Are you serious?
Henry: I know a bit about women's shoes.
Jo: What is that?
Henry: It's an original FBI fingerprinting kit.
Jo: The room has already been dusted, Henry, with actual modern equipment.
Henry: I'm not looking for prints, I'm looking for rubber. The shoes of Gloria's shoes were made of natural, soft rubber harvested from the Amazonian Sharinga trees. They leave a subtle mark, unlike the synthetic rubber used in shoes after seventy-three. Fascinating, she crawled here.
Jo: She crawled?
Henry: Yes, and the marks lead all the way to ... I know what killed her.
Jo: The weapon?
Henry: It wasn't a weapon, it was this marble staircase.
Jo: So, she fell. It was an accident.
Henry: She was pushed.
Jo: How'd you know she was pushed?
Henry: The crawl. The damage to her body was crippling: broken pelvis, countless fractures, she shouldn't've been able to move. But someone made her, Gloria tried to get away the only way she could, by crawling. She crawled thirty metres into the gallery in agony, in pain, why? There was someone else.
Jo: The guard said Gloria was alone.
Henry: He was wrong.
Jo: I'm not sold.
Henry: Very well, I'll explain it again.
Jo: No, listen. There's no way of knowing that there was someone else---yup?
Mike: There was someone else.
Jo: What?
Mike: Video surveillance from the party shows a guy heading towards the East gallery just after Gloria wandered off. He slipped past the guards.
Jo: Okay, do we have an ID?
Mike: Yeah, one Lance Sharp. IDed him from his photo in the newspaper.
Jo: Okay let's bring him in. Do not gloat, Henry.
