"Sound of struggle doesn't mean anything. If it happened late enough at night, who would be around to hear it? Nobody reported the gunshots, just the body this morning. It doesn't seem like someone would go to the effort of putting a silencer on a gun that fires a small-caliber round just to kill a hooker, either. This was hardly an assassination."<br/><br/>Her eyes searched and searched, but her mind kept roaming back to the purse. "I want to check fingerprints on anything left in her purse. If her ID can't be found in her apartment, then there's a good chance it was stolen and the murderer had to rummage through her things to get it. I want a visual check on any viable surfaces -- makeup compacts, lipstick tubes, you name it. We'll run ballistics on the bullet, obviously."<br/><br/>With a semblance of dignity returning to her, she glanced to the small crowd that had gathered around the body, taking notes, talking, cameras flashing. "There doesn't seem to be signs of struggle, no obvious marks, but body analysis will be checking for minor abrasions and hidden injuries -- strangulation and the like. Otherwise, you're useless."<br/><br/>The woman's body seemed to be only sleeping, despite the clean bullet wound in her forehead. She still had the fake-tan glow, her hair styled, albeit slightly mussed from the way she dropped. Everything seemed concurrent: the various scrapes from where she hit the pavement, the direction of her fall consistent with the blow of the weapon. The only thing that seemed out of place was her purse...Something about it still didn't add up.<em>Who would murder a stripper for her ID? Why wasn't the money taken?</em>