The kid couldn’t finish. I stared down. The corpse was charred beyond recognition, a wet briquette in semi-human shape.
Jeffers saw my badge. “You’re a cop? Maybe there’s a reason you’re here.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
“Roll it over,” Jeffers said.
Faces averted, the young guys turned the corpse from supine to prone. I saw two black twigs, arms, stretching behind the dark mass.
And on what had once been wrists, handcuffs.
Rawly hunkered beside the corpse and thumbed ash from the cuffs. Underneath, they were stainless steel, a bit darkened, but still bright. The lock mechanism was sturdy, the link forged. Good cuffs, pro quality.
Rawly frowned. “I think the arson probability just jumped a notch, Carson. I’ll call Forensics.”
Jeffers said, “There ain’t much left of the room it was in. The body was on the third floor, but started out on the fourth. It was in a huge bed judging by the frame. It all fell through when the fire ate away the floor joists.”
“Think this’ll be one of yours, Carson?” Rawly asked.
“Someone else’ll get the case. My dance card’s full.”
“Wanna take a look inside anyway? I can’t say the area will stay secure. Too many feet stomping around.”
The fire was pretty much knocked back on our side of the building, a few rooms at the other end still spewing black smoke as firefighters aimed thick ribbons of water through the windows.
I looked at Jeffers. Said, “Lead on.” We climbed the ladder to the third floor, crept in the window past jagged teeth of glass. I pushed back my borrowed helmet and looked up and saw sky, the floor above and the roof gone.
“Stay close to the edge of the room,” Jeffers said. “The floor’s bad in the middle.”
I found myself in a brick-walled box of ruination. There were bits of furniture, mostly the metal parts. I saw the melted remains of a television and computer. Near the room’s center lay the twisted box springs and mattress springs of a large bed, larger than king size, it seemed, most of the fabric burned away in the center of the springs, blackened fabric at the edges.
“The body was in the middle of the bed?” I asked.
“Dead center.” He grimaced at his words, said, “Sorry.”
I studied the floor, a mess of charred flooring from above, wires, and shattered glass. I kicked at the glass. It was everywhere in the ash. I took a couple steps forward, the charred flooring crunching like ice.
“No farther,” Jeffers said, grabbing my arm.
I backpedaled. “You don’t have to tell me twice.” I reached down and brushed aside detritus, lifted a piece of the ubiquitous broken glass. I blew off ash, saw my face in my hand.
“It’s a mirror,” I said.
Jeffers knelt and brushed at the floor.
“A lot of mirror. Must have been a biggie.” He inched across the floor to the bed.
“The springs are full of mirror, big pieces.” Jeffers stared up at a nonexistent room. “What’s that make you think, detective?”
I studied the wreckage. Now that I knew what to look for, I saw mirror fragments everywhere.
“A mirror above the bed. Or on the wall. Or both.”
“I think that answer would earn you an A+,” Jeffers said. “Seen enough?”
CHAPTER 17
I walked into the detectives’ room just as Harry was hanging up the phone. He looked at me, nostrils flaring.
“I smell smoke.”
“There was a fire at the apartment building at Corcoran and Hopple. I stopped to look.”
Harry nodded. “It was on the news. Sounded pretty big.”
“They’ve got it tamed. Two dead I know about. Some poor old guy got spooked and flew out the window. I was there when another body came out. The arms were behind the body’s back. Handcuffed in place.”
“Uh-oh. His wrists or her wrists?”
“Couldn’t tell; female by the size. It looked like the body came from a room full of mirrors.”
“It was that four-story yellow-brick apartment at Corcoran and Hopple, east side?”
I nodded.
“Used to be a few out-service gals in that building, maybe some inside work, specialty stuff. Bondage, sadomaso. Role-play weirdness. Maybe one of the specialists lost control, had to cover some tracks fast.”
“They’re covered. Any trace evidence in that room is now floating somewhere in the troposphere.”
Harry shrugged. “Someone else’s case, thank God. Listen, I just got a call from Lincoln Haley at WTSJ. He found some pages from Taneesha Franklin. Our name appears on something.”
“Let’s go take a look.”
When we walked through the door, Lincoln Haley was talking to the receptionist. He gestured us to follow to his office. I heard James Brown over the ubiquitous speakers, wailing Baby, baby, baby in a voice like a scalded ocelot.
Haley said, “Teesh did some work as a copywriter. Commercials. Not much after she started in news, just whenever our regular writer got jammed up. Teesh didn’t do the ad writing at her regular desk, but in the sales office.” Haley tried a smile. “I think she felt writing commercials at the news desk sullied the newsroom.”
We entered his office. A desk, couch, couple chairs. A shelf with various memorabilia, photos of music celebrities, three autographed baseballs, an autographed glove. He pointed to the chairs and we sat. Haley followed, picking up a sheaf of papers on his desk.
“Our regular copywriter, Sharie Dumond, was cleaning old files off the computer and found a file Teesh created. It’s a small file, just a few pages, titled ‘Danbury.’”
I sat forward. “Danbury?”
“I think I mentioned Teesh met with DeeDee Danbury a few times, the reporter on Channel 14. The file appears to be her notes from the meetings. I figure Teesh finished writing commercials one day, decided to transcribe handwritten notes into the computer. They’re a little hard to decipher-she transcribed direct and in her own shorthand.”
“Our names are in the writings?”
“They resemble class notes, like Ms. Danbury was lecturing and Teesh was writing. Here’s the page…”
I leaned and took the page from Haley’s hand, read the reference.
MPD Protec’s: Det C Ryder, Det H Nautilus. If trbl. // also SP, Arn Norlin.
“Anything important, Carson?” Harry asked, peering over my shoulder.
I shook my head, feeling the letdown. “Not really. I’m sure the message simply means should Taneesha have any trouble with the MPD, her protectors would be you and me.”
“Trouble?” Haley frowned. “Protectors?”
“It’s not like it sounds,” I said. “It’s names to drop if she was being given a runaround, maybe needed a little access. Some cops shut reporters out as a hobby.”
Pace Logan came to mind. I hoped he wasn’t passing that trait on to Shuttles. You don’t hand the press the store, but treat them right and it comes back in one way or another. I’d learned that much even before dating a reporter.
“How about the other name?” Haley asked.
“Same things, different jurisdiction. Arn Norlin with the county cops. He’s a good guy, Dani’s had an in with Arn for years.”
“Dani?”
“Ms. Danbury,” I said. “Her name’s Danielle, thus the DD initials and nickname.”
“You know her?”
Cornered. “I, uh, she’s my…”
Harry winked. “Ms. Danbury is my partner’s significant other, Mr. Haley, if that’s what it’s called anymore. Cop and reporter, oil and water. Somehow those two have been together for a year.”
Haley smiled. “Congratulations. From what Teesh told me about your girlfriend, you’re a lucky man.”
I tried to affect a courteous smile, but it felt like I was baring my teeth. Haley said, “Sorry I brought you up here for nothing, but I thought it might be important. I wanted to call before I headed out of town tonight.”
“Vacation?” Harry asked. I stood and turned away, my face beginning to ache from not screaming.
“My brother lives in Atlanta. I’m visiting for a couple days, take in a game. Take my mind off things a bit.”