A fingerprint on the kitchen sink.
A pool of blood from the one she loved.
The murder weapon has been cleaned domestically,
But traces are always found forensically.
Now the killer’s
hiding in plain sight.
Just out of reach of handcuffs tight.
But here now enters Grissom,
He says the dead will talk to him.
From a spec of dirt to a hint of DNA,
He’ll crack the case by 12, noon, midday.
A stray fingernail
Will send her to jail.
Life plus four,
With no escape for good behaviour.
She left a tyre tread,
While moving the dead
And her lipstick on a coffee cup
Now they’re on to her,
Like hounds after a foxes pup.