(Not yet, to my knowledge. But then again, it would be easy if she was determined enough.)

Dun-Dun, the thin wooden door at the back of the house bellowed back when Ian struck it. As he waited for the victim's family, a Miss Stephine, to answer, he leaned his weight on one foot and peered toward the pool. Someone was observing Shelly.
Stop following me! Go do yer job! Ian joked to himself as he waited, placing his large pilot shades from his collar to the bridge of his nose. "It makes me more intimidating," he'd say if anyone asked him about them.
"Yes?" Stephine answered through the screen, her arms across her rather voluptuous chest. Ian praised himself for accidentally saving himself from what could have become a very embarrassing offense.
"I need to examine Shelly's room," Ian answered in a voice slightly deeper and more gravely than his normal.
"Why?"
"Genetic evidence. We'll sort her in our Victims Files, and there might be traces pointing to a possible suspect." He peered around the corner and back again.
"Or are you going to make me get a warrant?" He teased, smiling despite Stephine's always grim expression.
Not a good crowd, it seems ... It returned to a thin, straight line across the bottom of his face.
"Uh, may I just ... come inside? Please, it will definitely help this case ease along."
Stephine's statue-like stillness was eventually broken when she slowly, steadily reached for the screen door. Ian did not open the thicker wooden one as to not irritate her.
"Thank you," he mumbled, raising his eyebrows in an expression of irritation from behind the shades.