Forgotten in Death(33)

The little guy, Eve thought, had an expressive face that managed to look aggrieved and apologetic at the same time.

“You’re within your rights to enter the premises.”

“Yeah.” He blew out a breath that had his lips vibrating. “I was gonna. Makes me feel like a jerk, but I was gonna.”

Eve switched on her recorder. “Can I have your name?”

“I’m Dell, Jamal Dell. I’m the in-building super. My brother and my two cousins, we rotate when we can, but I’m the in-building. We own the building. I know it doesn’t look like much, but—”

“It’s very well maintained,” Roarke told him.

“Thanks.” Jamal brightened right up. “We work at it. We pull in enough, we’re gonna add some security and soundproofing, but we can’t do that if SOBs like Carmine try stiffing us.”

“Mr. Dell, we have official business with Mr. Delgato. If you enter the premises, do we have your permission to do so as well?”

“Jeez, I’m sorry if he’s in any cop trouble. He’s got a sad story—which is why I let him sob-story me into four weeks. Yeah, you can come in.”

He pulled a passkey out of his pocket. “Doggone it, Carmine. I’m coming in and you’re going out.”

He unlocked the door, shoved it open. After one step inside, he froze.

“Holy cow! Oh my gosh!”

Eve had already rushed past him to grab the legs of Carmine Delgato and shove his limp body upward. It hung from the rope around his neck tied to a hook in the ceiling.

“Call nine-one-one,” she shouted at Dell. “Call for an ambulance. Now. Now!”

“Oh my effing goodness.”

Roarke righted the chair on its side under the body, then, pulling out a folding knife, sawed at the rope. To help with the weight, he wrapped an arm around Delgato as he cut through.

“He’s still warm.” Roarke let the knife fall and used both hands to help lower Delgato to the floor.

Eve yanked at the rope to loosen it, felt for a pulse.

“I’ve got a pulse. Just barely, but he’s not breathing.”

She straddled him, started CPR.

“They’re coming! The ambulance. Holy cow, holy cow.”

“Go down, lead them up. Tell them I’m doing CPR.”

Roarke crouched beside her as Dell raced out. “I can take over.”

“I’ve got it, I’ve got it. Goddamn it. He’s swinging up there while we’re standing outside the door.” She pumped, pumped, pumped, pushed her breath into him, pumped.

“There’s drywall bits on the floor from putting that hook in. Fresh. Fuck, fuck, come on, you asshole. Come back. But where’s the tool? Need a tool to get it into the what-do-you-call-it.”

“Joist.”

“That. Just into that ceiling? It wouldn’t hold him. Wouldn’t hold the weight. Could’ve put it away, but why? Place is a pigsty.”

She heard the sirens. “I need my field kit.”

“I’ll get it.” But he waited, stayed beside her as she fought to bring Carmine Delgato back to life.

He rose when the MTs rushed in.

Eve swung off Delgato, gave them room as they got to work.

“No pulse.”

“He had one when we got him down. Faint, but he had one.”

They shocked him, once, twice. Eve watched the line on the portable lay flat.

They shot adrenaline into his heart, but the line stayed flat.

She pushed to her feet when Roarke came back with her kit. And shook her head before the MT called it.

“He’s gone.”

“I’ll take it from here.” She held up her badge.

“Yeah, I recognized you, Lieutenant.” The female half of the MT team glanced up at her. “I’ve mopped you up before. Nothing we could do for this one. Likely he was gone when you cut him down.”

“Appreciate the effort.”

“We all do what we can.”

While they packed up, she walked over to Roarke. “I won’t waste my breath saying you don’t have to wait while I deal with this, so I’ll use it to tell you to seal up.”

She took a can of Seal-It out of her kit, coated her hands, her boots, then passed it to him.

“You can play Peabody, collect some of the drywall bits.”

When the MTs moved out, she went back to the body to formalize the ID.

“Victim is Delgato, Carmine, currently of this address. TOD, seventeen-forty-three. He died when I was doing CPR.”

“The MT was right. He was, essentially, gone when we got to him.”

“Yeah. COD, asphyxiation, strangulation by hanging. No visible defensive wounds, no visible trauma other than severe bruising around the neck.”

She put on microgoggles, leaned close. “Bruising is consistent with the rope used to…”

Leaned closer. “There’s … it looks like a slight, possible anomaly in the neck area. A lot of bruising, swelling, but … it looks like … potentially a faint circle. Pressure syringe. It’s from a fucking pressure syringe. ME to examine and verify.”

She sat back on her heels, tagged Morris as she scanned the room.

“Dallas? How’s your evening going?”

“I’m looking down at a dead guy.”