“Thank you, Detective. Now I’d like to ask you about the events of February third of this year. In the course of your job, you visited a residence in Roxbury. Correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“The address was 4280 Malcolm X Boulevard, correct?”

“Yes. It’s an apartment building.”

“Tell us about that visit.”

“At approximately two thirty P.M., we-my partner, Detective Barry Frost, and I-arrived at that address to interview a tenant in apartment two-B.”

“In regards to what?”

“It was in regards to a homicide investigation. The subject in two-B was an acquaintance of the victim.”

“So he-or she-was not a suspect in that particular case?”

“No, sir. We did not consider her to be a suspect.”

“And what happened then?”

“We had just knocked on the door to two-B when we heard a woman screaming. It came from the apartment across the hall. In two-E.”

“Could you describe the screams?”

“I guess I would characterize them as screams of severe distress. Fear. And we heard several loud bangs, as though furniture was being overturned. Or someone was being slammed against the floor.”

“Objection!” The defense attorney, a tall blond woman, rose to her feet. “Pure speculation. She wasn’t in the apartment to see that.”

“Sustained,” the judge said. “Detective Rizzoli, please refrain from guessing about events you couldn’t possibly see.”

Even if it wasn’t just a frigging guess? Because that’s exactly what was happening. Billy Wayne Rollo was slamming his girlfriend’s head against the floor.

Jane swallowed her irritation and amended her statement. “We heard a loud banging in the apartment.”