READER'S ROCK LIFESTYLE MAGAZINE VOL 2 ISSUE 4 NOVEMBER 2014 Vol. 1 Issue 9 March 2014 - Page 70

LEE MOSSEL Lee Mossel was born in Eugene, Oregon and raised in the small logging and lumber mill town of Noti twenty miles west of Eugene. He entered the University of Oregon at age sixteen where he received bachelors and masters degrees in geology. He began his professional career as a petroleum geologist with Shell Oil in Denver, CO in 1967. Over a thirtyfour year career, he worked for several independent oil and gas exploration firms including two he founded or cofounded. He has two grown children with families living in Colorado and a total of four grandchildren. He and his wife, Jan, live in Parker, Colorado, about twenty-five miles southeast of Denver. They enjoy golf, travel, good wines, fine dining, reading, and their grandchildren. EXCERPT FROM THE MURDER PROSPECT: When I saw Lindsey’s Edge turn in the driveway, I went to the garage, opened the overhead door, and motioned for her to park inside. As soon as she was in, I lowered the door. She was wearing a uniform, so I felt a little odd when she took me in a long embrace. When she pulled back, I noticed tears in the corners of her eyes. Her voice was low and soft. “George sent me out. He just said your place was a crime scene and I needed to work it. He told me to make sure I brought a blood kit. What happened? Are you hurt?” I said, “No, I’m all right…just a sore wrist. I had a visit from some guys who are probably involved in the Linfield murder and we had a pretty good go-round in the front entryway and porch. There’s some blood out there from one of them and George wants to get samples into the system quickly. Hey, did you bring your overnight bag? The ‘work’ gives you a good excuse for you getting here early.” Lindsey reacted like I’d slapped her. “What the hell’s the matter with you? George said shots were fired, you say there’s blood evidence, and you’re asking if I plan to spend the night? C’mon, show me the blood and anything else you’ve got. I’ll do the forensics, get the samples to the lab, and then we’ll sort out what we’re doing!” There was nothing soft in her voice now. She sounded mad. Properly chastised, I waited as she got her kit and then led the way to the entry. “There’s a little blood just inside the door and more out on the porch. It’s all from the same guy. There were two of ‘em here, but the other guy wasn’t cut that I know of…me neither. The bleeder was a guy by the name of Mike Landry. He’s part of Black Blizzard. The other guy’s a big Mexican dude, I don’t know his name. “If you look here,” I pointed at the scrape on the tile, “You can see where a bullet clipped the floor. It bounced into the molding over there.” I showed her the bullet hole. “The slug should be in the wall and the casing is over by the door. I put Landry’s gun on the table.” She put a scaled ruler next to the bullet hole and began snapping pictures, moved the scale next to the shell casing, and took more. She opened her kit, pulled on surgical gloves, and began using Q-tips to swab blood from the tile putting each one in a small sealed tube. She used a pair of rubber tipped tweezers to pick up the casing and put it in a plastic bag. Finally she said, “What have you touched?” Her voice was all business. “Nothing except the gun.” She took blood samples from the tile and the porch before asking, “Are those more blood drops going down the sidewalk and out to the driveway?” I hadn’t noticed. “Probably. Landry did a knee walk from the porch to the car.” She gave me a sideways glance. “Why’d he do that?” “Because I told him to.” Connect with Lee Mossel online: Facebook: Goodreads: LinkedIn: Website: Blog: