ELEVEN
JULY 16
Detective Marshall Jennings knocked on the door at 8:30 a.m. The door opened to reveal a woman of about forty, with shoulder-length, blonde hair and tired eyes that looked at him with concern. “Mrs. Carson,” he said, with a nod. “I am detective Marshall Jennings of the Camarillo Police Department.”
“Come in, Detective,” she replied, stepping aside to allow him to enter.
He walked into the house and instinctively started to survey conditions. They walked into the living room and she said, “Please, have a seat on the couch.”
“Thanks,” Jennings said, sitting and pulling a notebook from his jacket pocket. “I know this is a very hard time for you, Mrs. Carson, and I’m so sorry for your loss. Do you feel that you can answer questions? I wish I didn’t have to bother you right
