Connections in Death (In Death #48)(70)

On a tangled sheet of blood-smeared plastic, Aimes lay faceup, mouth open as if expressing surprise to find himself dead in a Chinatown alley. Blood from the deep gash across his throat had soaked through and dried over the grinning skull on his T-shirt.

“No spatter, no blood pool on the plastic,” Eve noted. “They killed him somewhere else, half-assed wrapped him in the sheet, dumped him here.”

Beside her, Peabody nodded. “It looks like they more or less rolled him behind the recycler, so he rolled out of the plastic.”

In a hurry, Eve thought, and getting the body here was the main thing.

“Strong, you take Ho, Peabody take Jacobs. I’ve got the body. Peabody, get some uniforms to start a canvass. They had to have transpo to get a DB the size of this one from the kill site. And find out when the restaurant closed last night—the last time anyone used this recycle unit. Strong, notify the sweepers, the dead wagon.”

Recorder on, Eve sealed up, then crouched down to verify the identification. For the record, she read off his data, the location, the names of the witnesses.

She slipped on microgoggles to examine the wound. “A deep slice, no visible hesitation marks. The absence of spatter and blood at the scene indicates this isn’t where the victim died. Dump site. The victim has bruising on his knuckles, some swelling. It looks at least a day old to me. ME to confirm. My take is the bruising’s from beating on Dinnie Duff.”

Methodically, she searched his pockets, came up empty. He still had his shoes, she noted, but they were torn, worn, and worthless.

“Pierced left ear, but no ring in it. Big guy like this? Big, tough guy, he’d have put up a fight if he knew it was coming. Angle of the wound indicates the attack came from the front. If he was facing his attacker, he knew him, didn’t feel threatened. And where’s his sticker? He’d have had one.”

She took out her gauge, got a reading. “TOD one-fifteen. So you didn’t run, did you, Barry. I bet you hunkered down, got stoned. Maybe did some bragging on bagging a couple of kills. Maybe made some demands. So you had to go. Dump site’s deliberate, right on the Dragon leader’s doorstep. Because they’re idiots,” she said in disgust. “And they think we’ll look local for the killers.”

Easier places to make the dump, even if you wanted to point the finger at a rival gang. But somebody wanted to go for the top.

She sat back on her heels, closed her eyes, and imagined it.

“Attack from the front. Maybe, just maybe, a partner moving in from behind to get a grip, hold him still for a few seconds. It only takes a few seconds.

“Did they already have the plastic, already have it worked out, or was it of the moment. Doesn’t matter to you, does it, Barry?” she said, looked down at the young, empty face.

“Roll him onto the sheet, wrap him up because you’re going to transfer him to a vehicle, and you don’t bother with that if you’re going to boost one.”

She straightened up. “No, you had access to a vehicle, and didn’t want to get blood in the back of the truck, the van, in the trunk of the car. You had brains enough for that.”

Calling over a couple of uniforms to help her turn the body, she finished her exam. As she packed up her kit, Strong came back.

“Ms. Jacobs and Ms. Ho are friends, and Jacobs works in the restaurant. So does her teenage son, on weekends. She’d gotten her kids—three—off to school, her husband had already left for work. He’s a medical tech. She heard the screams, ran to the window, saw Ho, saw the body. She said she called out to Ho to go inside, that she was calling the police. Timing jibes.

“She worked last night until ten, but says the rest of the staff—the cleanup, would clock out about eleven. She and her husband went to bed by midnight, and her three kids were home and tucked in.”

Strong looked up at the window, gauged the distance to the body.

“Jacobs thinks she heard some people arguing in the alley and some rattling around, but isn’t sure of the time. She thinks it was around two, but she was half asleep and can’t say for sure.”

“Okay.”

“I asked her about gang activity. There’s where she got evasive. She made a point of saying how her son—the one who works at the restaurant—is studying to be a doctor. How he’s never been in trouble. Neither have her two girls—ages fourteen and eleven. But there was something.”

“Yeah, there’s something since she’s friends with and works for Fan Ho’s mother. Let’s see what Peabody’s got.”

They badged through the alley door, started up to the apartment.

“I did a quick run on Jacobs’s son, and he’s clean.”

“It’s going to be the restaurant. That’s the tie-in.”

She rapped on the door. When it opened, she saw the tie-in face-to-face.

She put him early twenties. Strongly built, dark, hard eyes in an action-vid star’s face. He wore his hair in a single, short braid. A red-and-gold dragon tat breathed fire on his right biceps.

“Lieutenant Dallas, Detective Strong.” She held up her badge. “Are you a member of the household?”

“Fan Ho. A lot of cops to talk to a woman, already shaken, about a body in the alley.”

“How about I talk to you instead?”

He shrugged, dismissive. “The other girl cop’s in the kitchen, pushing at my mother and grandparents who came to be with her. They live across the hall.”