Haunted in Death (In Death #22.5)(2)

“Since the addy’s Twelve East Twelfth, I’m going to go out on a limb and say, yeah. Let’s turn him.“

“Oh, right.“

When they rolled the body, Eve pursed her lips. “Somebody really wanted this guy dead. Three more entry wounds on the back. Lab will confirm, but I’m thinking…“

She crossed the room toward a set of old circular iron stairs. “Standing about here, facing the attacker. Pow, pow. Takes it in the chest.“ She slapped a hand on her own. “Stumbles back, goes down. The smeared blood trail tells me the vic tried crawling away, probably toward the doors.“

“Doors were locked from the inside. First on scene said,“ Peabody added.

“Yeah. So he’s crawling, and the killer moves in. Pow, pow, into the back.“ The sound of the shots must have blasted the air in here, Eve thought. Must have set the ears ringing. “But it’s not enough. No, we’re not finished yet. Body falls, has to be dead or dying, but it’s not enough. Turns the body over, puts the barrel of the gun to the forehead. See the burn marks around the forehead wound? Contact. I did a lot of studying up on firearms during the DeBlass case a couple years ago. Puts the barrel right against the head and pow.Coup de grace.“

Eve saw it in her head. Heard it, smelled it. “You put a gun like this.“ She pressed her fingertip to her own brow. “You put it right against the skin and fire, it’s personal. You put that many steel missiles in somebody, you’re seriously pissed off.“

“Vic’s got his bright, shiny wristwatch – looks antique – his wallet – cash and credit inside – key codes, ppc, pocket ‘link. Killer didn’t bother making it look like robbery.“

“We’ll run the electronics. Let’s have a look at the ‘link.“

Eve took the ‘link in her sealed hands, called up the last transmission. There was a whispering, windy sound which Eve had to admit tingled her spine just a bit. The husky female voice wove through it.

Number Twelve. Twoa.m. Bring it. Bring it, and we’ll party.

“Maybe robbery plays in after all.“

“Did you hear that voice?“ Peabody sent a cautious look over her shoulder. “It sounded, you know, unearthly.“

“Funny, sounded computer-generated to me. But maybe that’s because I know ghosts don’t make ‘link transmissions, or shoot guns. Because – and this may be news to you, Peabody – ghosts don’t exist.“

Peabody only shook her head, sagely. “Oh yeah? Tell that to my great-aunt Josie who died eight years ago and came back half a dozen times to nag my great-uncle Phil about fixing the leaky toilet in the powder room. She left him alone after he called the plumber.“

“And how much does your great-uncle Phil drink?“

“Oh, come on. People see ghosts all the time.“

“That’s because people, by and large, are whacked. Let’s work the case, Peabody. It wasn’t a ghostly finger that pulled the trigger here. Or lured the vic to an empty building in the middle of the night. Let’s do a run. Spouse, family, beneficiaries, business partners, friends, enemies. And let’s keep it to the corporeal.“

Eve re-examined the body, wondering if he’d brought whatever it was. “They can bag and tag. Start checking doors and windows. Let’s find out how the killer got out of the building. I’ll have another talk with the first on scene.“

“You want me to stay in here? To wander around in here. Alone?“

“Are you kidding?“ One look at Peabody’s face told Eve her partner was absolutely serious. “Well, for God’s sake. You take the first on scene. I’ll take the building.“

“Better plan. You want crime scene in now, and the body transported?“

“Get it done.“

Eve took a visual sweep on the main floor. Maybe it had been a hot spot in the last century, but now it was derelict. She could see where some of the work had begun. Portions of the grimy walls had been stripped away to their bones to reveal the old, and certainly out-of-code, electrical wiring. Portable lights and heating units were set up, as well as stacks of materials in what seemed to be tidy and organized piles.

But the drop clothes, the material, the lights all had a coat of dust. Maybe Hopkins had started his rehab, but it looked as if there’d been a long lag since the last nail gun popped.

The remains of an old bar hulked in the center of the room. As it was draped with more dusty protective cloth, she assumed Hopkins had intended to restore it to whatever its former glory might have been.

She checked the rear exit door, found it too secured from inside. Through another door she found what might have been a store room at one time, and was now a junk heap. The two windows were about big enough for a cat to squeeze through, and were riot barred.

The toilet facilities on the main level were currently pits, with no outside access.

“Okay, unless you’re still here, waiting for me to cuff you and read you your rights, you found a way up and out.“

She glanced at the ancient elevator; opted for the spindly iron stairs.

The sweepers were going to have a hell of a time finding usable prints or physical evidence, she thought. There were decades of dust, grime, considerable water damage, what seemed to be old scorching from a fire.

She recorded and marked some blurry footprints smudged on the dirty floor.