Frank followed Darcy. The stairway was invisible after the bright sun and Frank tripped on the steps. Darcy turned at the top. Behind him, a lone bulb burned in its wire basket. Frank couldn't see Darcy's face, only the soft glow around his head. She wondered how long it would be before she could get herself into a tub and open a bottle of Scotch.
Back at the office there was a message from Gail. She'd finished Danny Duncan's autopsy and Frank could page her if she wanted. Frank did; it was a good excuse to hear Gail's voice.
"Hey," she answered when the doc called back. "Got your message."
"Hi. Paul did your Colonel. I was busy counting how many times a man stabbed his wife because she served him cauliflower with dinner."
"How many?"
"More than I could count," she yawned. "At least ten on her head and neck, thirty to her chest. Not to mention defensive cuts. I'm bushed. Thank God he confessed and I can let it go at that. I've still got to type it up, though. Ick."
"I thought you were gonna be chained to your desk all day."
"We drew coffee stirrers for this guy. I lost."
A thin smile eased the strain on Frank's face; she liked a boss that shared in the grunt work.
"What'd you find out about the Colonel?"
"Probably nothing you don't already know. He exsanguinated due to penetration of the carotids and jugulars."
Frank heard her shuffling papers.
"I don't have his report yet. I'll let you know as soon as I do."
"Who was at the post?"
"Lewis. She's nice. I like her."
"How'd she do?"
"Fine, I think. She seemed all right."
It was common for new detectives to ghost on their first autopsies. The overly ripe, gamey smell of a freshly opened torso; the sound of skin being stretched from fascia; the first glimpse of an exposed brain hunkered like an obscenely large pearl in an oyster— those were only a few of a dozen sensations that could send them spinning from the morgue. If the cutter knew a rookie was watching, they could be excessively gruesome.
"Was Noah there?"
"No. Just Lewis."
"Alive or dead when he was cut?"
"I'm sorry. I forgot to ask. Does it matter?"
"Probably not. Might give us a little more insight into his last couple minutes."
"I'll get Paul to finish his prelim first thing tomorrow. How's your day going?"
Frank was determined to forget the incident at the projects.
"From a civilian's perspective—tragic. From a homicide lieutenant's—productive. Four closed cases. The captain'll be a happy man. You should have gotten them by now. Three boys and a girl."
"Oh, God," Gail groaned.
"Yeah, Mommy pulled a euthanasia. Stabbed the oldest with a steak knife then decided that was too messy. Smothered the rest of diem with a pillow. Thought they'd be better off that way. Maybe she's right."
"Did you get up on the wrong side of the bed today, or what?"
Frank almost snapped something, bit it back.
"You headed out on rounds?"
"Pretty soon."
"Why don't you stop by on your way home? Let me kiss you goodnight."
"How can someone so cynical and so embittered be so romantic?"
Frank rubbed her eyes.
"I'm not embittered. I'm world-weary."
"That's very poetic. I think I'm rubbing off on you."
"Yeah? That'd be awful nice."
When Frank hung up she was an hour closer to that bottle of Scotch.
18
Frank was leaving a note for Darcy when Noah and Lewis strolled in. Noah slid into a chair like he'd just lost all his bones.
"Guess who's back in town," he said.
"Elvis?"
"Not an Anglo."
"Hendrix?"
"Not black."
"Pancho Villa?"
"Not as nice a moustache. Tito Carrillo. Guess the border boys missed him."
"Did you talk to him?"
Contributing to the conversation, Lewis settled her muscled bulk onto a chair that looked like it was about to become kindling.
"Not yet we haven't. I stopped at Hernandez's—"
"She forgot to have him sign his statement," Noah snickered.
Lewis flushed, nostrils flaring like a bull's before a charge. Frank wondered what her blood pressure was like. Mad-dogging her partner, Lewis continued.
"I stopped by Hernandez's place and he told me Carrillo was back in town. He seemed awfully tense and it finally come out that Carrillo still wants to do business with him and Echevarria. I don't know why," Lewis snorted. "There ain't no way I'd want those two backing me. Nuh-uh. But he's determined to go through with his plan, despite what happened to Duncan and despite all the warnings they got. Hernandez said Carrillo said that he ain't scared. That some old lady isn't gonna tell him what to do."
"Find him," Frank said. "Talk to him."
Lewis nodded.
"I went by his crib but he wasn't home. His old lady said she didn't know when he's coming back. I figured I'd drop by again on my way home. But the—"
"Sister Shaft," Noah rode Lewis. "Don't you ever sleep?"
Frank backed her rookie, asking Noah where he'd been while Lewis attended the post.
"Now I knew you'd be pissed about that," Noah defended, "but wait'll you hear this. Oh God," he laughed, clutching his stomach, "You're gonna love this. Johnnie, listen up. This is rich."
That was all the prompting Johnnie needed to sit back and prop his feet on the desk.
"Okay, so I was going through Belizaro's murder book this morning—waiting for Smokin' Joe," he acknowledged his partner, "to do whatever the hell she was doing in the girls room—and I notice he was busted a couple months ago for jackin' that butcher shop on 69th. And it dawns on me, I was talking to Mrs. Belizaro a couple days ago, and she mentioned something about how she never knew she had such wonderful neighbors. Even the butcher."
Noah smiled, rocking his chair back on two legs. A slow grin lit Frank's face and she shook her head. Noah nodded.
Lewis looked puzzled, prodding, "Yeah?"
"Yeah," Johnnie echoed, "for those of us who aren't into that Vulcan mind meld shit like you two."
Noah continued, "Mrs. Belizaro says, 'I never go to him, but he brought me a bag of meat. Isn't that sweet?'"
"Nice," Frank said.
"And," Noah continued, dropping the chair back down, "that cold case of Nook's, 'member, about nine months ago? Male black with his guts emptied out behind the Pik-Rite and chunks carved off of him? Jacked that same carniceria nine days before he was picked off. I called his baby muhvuh and asked if a butcher had come by offering condolences. 'Yeah, she says. He even brought us a bag of meat.'"
"She-et," Lewis said, disgusted, and Johnnie laughed. Noah did too, but managed to say, "No wait. This is the best part. The baby muhvuh says"—Noah laughed, wiping his eyes—"she says, 'He was the nicest man. He knew we were Muslim and he even made it kosher."'
"Ya'll sick mothers," Lewis said, stalking over to her desk. Johnnie was still laughing as Noah said to Frank, "I figured you'd rather I worked on the search warrant."
"What a fucking job," Frank said. "Mrs. Belizaro have any of that meat left?"
"Why, you wanna have a barbeque?" Johnnie choked.
"I already got it. Put it on ice. I'll send it to the lab tomorrow, see what we get."
Frank said to Lewis, "Heard the post went well."
"It was all right, I guess. It didn't tell us much more than we already know. Seems like our boy was still alive when his throat was slit. The doctor didn't find anything unusual."
"Did he say much?"