Detective Sherline and her assistant Watsona arrived at Mrs. Shultz’s house shortly after she called to report the stolen bracelet. Now, Watsona was carefully studying the scene of the crime. The bathroom vanity was neatly organized with all that Mrs. Shultz needed to get ready for the morning: her hairbrushes and makeup, her toothbrush and contact lens case, her perfume bottles. Only the jewelry case looked disturbed, suggesting that whomever had taken the diamond bracelet had been in a hurry.
Meanwhile, Sherline was listening to Mrs. Shultz’s account of what had happened. "By the time I woke up, the robber was already leaving the house,” she explained. “But I did sit up in bed and look out my window in time to see the robber at the end of my front walkway, under the streetlight. It was my neighbor’s son; I saw him clear as day. No one else has a tattoo like that on the back of his neck.”
Sherline glanced toward Watsona, still standing at the vanity. “Mrs. Shultz, why don’t you tell us the true story,” Detective Sherline said calmly. “No one is going to believe your version of events.”
Why was Detective Sherline so sure Mrs. Shultz was lying?
