City of the Dead (Alex Delaware, #37)(7)
I turned back to Milo. Ghostly pallid, but that’s his default skin tone. His black hair was unruly in spots, his green eyes half lidded, his heavily jowled, pockmarked face immobile.
I said, “What’s up?”
“Thanks for coming on short notice, Alex. Here’s the deal: Three or so hours ago a moving van going north made impact with what the drivers thought was an animal.”
He pointed to the first group of markers. “Turned out to be a human animal, young, male, and naked. Moses?”
Reed said, “Morning, Doc. My first thought was maybe a drunk student running around in the dark got hit by accident. Then a neighbor tipped us to this place, said people were coming in and out all the time, he figured it for a high-end brothel. His words. He had no evidence, just suspicion due to the variety of visitors, but when I tried to pin him down on a number, he admitted not that many. So I figured him for an old crank but went to check it out anyway, got no response at the front door, was headed to the back when I saw some blood in the driveway. One thing led to another and turns out there’s a female victim inside, no doubt about that one being a homicide.”
I said, “Any evidence of a sexual crime?”
Milo said, “Not so far. Why?”
“Naked guy in the street, could be her killer. Or an intended second victim who escaped but encountered bad luck?”
Milo said, “Hoping for the former but till we get the blood sorted out, no way to know. Ready to have a look?”
I never really am. “Sure, let’s go.”
Reed said, “Want me along, L.T.?”
“Not necessary, Moses. Manage the canvass.”
* * *
—
Paper-suited and gloved up, I followed Milo through an open wooden gate. He pointed out the blood Moe had seen. Freckles, easy to miss, and by day’s end likely faded to near invisibility.
We continued to the blue house’s rear door, held open by one of those old-fashioned pneumatic devices you can kick to keep in place.
The service porch and kitchen were neat and well organized. More sprinkles of blood in the nearest corner. Larger, darker. What looked like low impact—something dripping from above, not the result of explosion.
Yet more blood on a tile floor in the utility space that segued to hardwood in the kitchen. Both had the potential to be decent surfaces for crisp shoe impressions.
Foot impressions, given a naked man.
Nothing showed here.
I said, “The blood stops?”
“And resumes. You’ll see.”
“What was the weapon?”
He pointed to an empty slot in a wooden knife holder. “For the female victim, big butcher thing, found near her, on its way to the lab. Techs went through the place and took tons of samples. If Naked Guy’s prints turn up on the handle, one giant step for detective-kind.”
I said, “Sounds like you could be well on your way. You called me in because…”
“If Naked does get confirmed as the bad guy, I’m still gonna need to put it together with both deaths explained. As in why he’d kill someone then run outside, smack into a moving van.”
“I can think of all sorts of reasons. Panic, guilt, psychotic break. Chemical impairment.”
“Exactly, Alex. I need someone who can think fast and sound authoritative while he’s doing it. If the naked guy is my man, the question’s gonna be murder-suicide or murder-accident.”
“You want a psychological autopsy.”
“I wasn’t thinking formally but guess so.” He smiled. “You’ve done them for the crypt. They pay okay, right?”
“Better than the department.”
“Low bar, amigo. Okay with you if I call Basia, see if I can start some paperwork on that?”
“Sure.”
He flexed his fingers. Antsy.
I said, “But if all you want is some theorizing, it won’t be a big deal.”
“Well,” he said, smiling uneasily, “you never know. Too many weird things going on with this one.”
“Like?”
“Nothing I can put a finger on, just a feeling. And, amigo, it’s better when it gets weird.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Intended as such.” He grinned. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”
* * *
—
He led me out of the kitchen and into the living room, beige and white and fastidious except for a rumpled duvet and a pillow atop the larger of two taupe sofas. A white door shut off entry to what I assumed was a staircase to the second story.
I said, “No forced entry, weapon of convenience, someone sleeping over. His clothes were also sent to the crypt?”
He frowned. “No clothes, that’s part of the weirdness. Not anywhere here or, so far, outside. People aren’t gonna let us into their castles but maybe we can glance at backyards. Or owners will and find a stash.”
“The guy hid his the clothes and his I.D. somewhere then showed up naked?”
He shrugged. “Maybe the whole thing started as an adventurous booty call. Or if the grumpy neighbor’s right, an adventurous in-call. Either way, he shows up starkers to spice it up, intends to come back later for his duds and I.D. The two of them start to party but it goes bad and he ends up on the couch.”