Thankless in Death (In Death #37)(6)

“I can’t count the stab wounds on the female, Dallas. She’s been hacked to pieces.”

“I’d say we’ve got the cause of death. Let’s get the time.”

Eve pulled out her gauge. “He’s been dead for about sixty-two hours. That puts it at Friday evening. Around six-thirty.”

“She has almost six hours on him. TOD Friday, twelve-hundred-forty.”

“Nearly six hours between kills.” Eve sat back on her heels. “Kills the woman in the afternoon, then what, waits around for the man? No sign of struggle in the living area. No sign of break-in.”

She pushed up. “Go ahead and call for the morgue and the sweepers.”

Solid middle-class couple from the looks of it, Eve thought as she began to wander the apartment. The woman lets someone in, middle of the day? No struggle. Both killed in the kitchen.

She set that train of thought aside once she stepped into what appeared to be the main bedroom.

“Somebody tossed the bedroom,” she called out.

“It’s pretty strange and vicious for a burglary,” Peabody began, and stopped, frowning into the bedroom. “It looks pretty tidy.”

“Pretty tidy, not perfectly tidy like the living area. Things are out of place here. The bedcovers aren’t smooth, the closet doors open, some clothes on the floor in there. That desk there—one of the drawers isn’t closed all the way, and where’s the comp? No comp or tablet on the desk.”

Eve pulled open a drawer on the bureau. “Everything’s jumbled in here. No, she kept a neat and clean house in a neat and clean building. Whoever did this was looking for something. I bet the wit’s been in here, and would know if anything’s missing.”

“You want her to walk through.”

“Yeah, after they take the bodies.” She walked out. “Second bedroom, not so tidy either. Rug’s askew. Furniture’s got some dust on it. Why didn’t she clean in here? Closet’s empty,” she added, after pulling it open. “Who has an empty closet?”

“Not me. If you have storage, you end up using it.”

“Somebody was staying in here. Dirty dishes scattered around, empty containers.” She walked to the bed, yanked the cover down, bent over to sniff the sheets. “Sleeping here. Tag these. We could get DNA.”

She turned a circle. “Someone staying here, someone they know. She’s in the kitchen, maybe fixing lunch that time of day. We’ll run the log on the AutoChef. Maybe he wants something, and she won’t give it to him.”

Letting herself see it, she walked out again, back to the kitchen. “He’s pissed, oh, he’s so f**king pissed. The knife’s right there, just takes it out of the block and lets her have it. Over and over. Bet that felt good.”

“Why?” Peabody wondered. “Why do you say it felt good?”

“He didn’t run, did he? He hung around, waiting to do her husband. Another overkill. So, yeah, I’m thinking it felt just fine. Note for sweepers to check all the drains. He had to clean up, he’d be covered with blood. But he’s got hours before the husband gets home. Hours to clean himself up, to change, and to go through the place. She probably had a couple pieces of decent jewelry, easy to hock.”

“They’d’ve had emergency cash somewhere,” Peabody added. “It’s what you do, sock some away in case.”

“Okay. Jewelry, cash. Male vic’s wallet’s gone, and he’s not wearing a wrist unit. When we find her purse, her wallet’s going to be gone, too. Electronics—that’s something we’re not seeing in here.”

“Easy and portable.”

Eve looked at the victims again. “And an afterthought. You don’t kill like this for trinkets. You don’t kill people you know like this for some spare cash. You do it for a lot more. Maybe they had more. Let’s see what the neighbor has to say.”

Eve headed for the door, glanced back. “Run the son,” she told Peabody.

“You think somebody could’ve done that to his own parents?”

“Who pisses you off more than family?” She stepped out. “It’s clear for Crime Scene,” she told the uniform. “And the wagon’s on the way. What’s the wit’s name?”

“Sylvia Guntersen. Her husband’s Walter. He’s in there, too. He stayed home from work.”

“All right.” Eve knocked on 824. The female officer answered, a young blonde with her hair pulled back tightly at the nape of her neck.

“Hey, Cardininni.”

The blonde smiled, her frosty blue eyes warmed. “Hey, Peabody. Some morning, huh?”

“You could say. Officer Cardininni and I walked the beat together a few times.”

“Before you went Murder on us. Lieutenant. It’s good meeting you. More or less.” She glanced over her shoulder. “The woman’s taking it hard. The husband’s holding on, but not by much. They were tight with the vics. Lived across the hall from each other for about a dozen years. They hung a lot, took some vacations together. Close buds.”

“Got it.”

The apartment layout mirrored 825. The decor was less fussy, but the tidiness factor meshed. The Guntersens sat at the square-topped black kitchen table, cups in front of them. Eve judged them to be about the same age as the victims.