It was almost midnight. I’d been in bed for more than an hour, but I couldn’t sleep. I’d watched TV for a while. Tried to read a book. But nothing worked, not even three fingers of scotch. My mind was in a whirl. Questions, questions, questions, but not a single solid answer. And then the phone rang. Kate.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“You’d better get down here, Harry. They’re pulling a body out of the river, a young guy, maybe twenty-five. I can’t say for sure, but I think it could be Falk.”
Shit. “Where are you exactly?”
“Ross’s Landing. Close to the Southern Belle. You’ll see the lights.”
“I’ll be there in twenty.” I was already climbing into my clothes, hopping around, wrestling with my jeans. I threw the phone down on the bed, crawled into a hoody, and grabbed my M&P9 and my jacket. I was across the river in ten minutes, burning along Amnicola and then Riverfront Parkway. I pulled to a stop just beyond the tapes. Even at that time of night there was a crowd of looky-loos straining their necks, gawking, trying to see what was going on.
Kate was waiting for me and, hell, she had Lonnie Guest with her, and he was in plain clothes.
“Evenin’, Starke.” He grinned at me as I ducked under the tape, which he was good enough to hold up for me. I ignored him, turned to Kate, twitched my head toward the concrete walkway bordering the river. “Down there?”
“Yeah. Come on.”
Guest followed me, still grinning like a damn Cheshire cat. What’s with this guy?
“What’s with Guest?” I whispered in Kate’s ear.
“He made detective,” Kate whispered out of the corner of her mouth. “He’s my new partner.”
“Oh shit,” I said out loud, stopping dead in my tracks.
Lonnie barged into my back.
“Sorry, Starke. You need to stay out of the way. This is police work, for police officers”—he pronounced it poe-leece—“of which you ain’t one.”
“Enough, Lonnie. I invited Harry,” Kate said, an edge to her voice. “I know you two can’t stand each other, but try to be civil, at least while we’re on the job. Okay?”
“Your partner?” I mouthed it silently, but Lonnie spotted it.
“Ain’t it a pisser?” he said. “Don’t ya just hate it?” The douche was grinning from ear to ear.
I simply shook my head. I had to ignore him, somehow.
The body was lying on the concrete walkway surrounded by a pool of water. The ME had not yet arrived, but the crime scene folks were already there and at work.
“Any idea how he died, and when?” I asked.
“Double tap. Two in the head. Looks like he’s been soakin’ for several days, maybe even a week,” Lonnie replied before Kate could even open her mouth.
He’d assumed the pose, legs akimbo, hands on his hips, staring at the body like he knew what the hell he was doing, forcing the photographer to squeeze in around him. There wasn’t much room between the body and the water.
Double tap? Where does he get that stuff? Been watching too many gangster movies.
“Two in the head?” I asked Kate.
She nodded. “In the forehead, probably a nine, up close. Not a contact wound; maybe six to eight inches. There’s stippling around the wound closest to the bridge of his nose. The second was probably done after he was down.”
A 9 mm? I thought about Henry Gold’s. I hadn’t told Kate about my last visit to see Tree. I’m not sure she would have approved. Still, if the ME found 9 mms in there…
“Professional hit?” I asked.
“Oh yeah,” Lonnie said, sniffing. “Had to be. Not common in these parts. Mob hit, prob’ly.”
I had to walk away. I was trying not to laugh. The man was an idiot.
I wandered a few yards along the riverfront, got ahold of myself, and then strolled back. Lonnie was gone.
“What did you do with him?” I grinned at her.
“Sent him to the car to report in.”
“How on earth did he make detective? Better yet, whose dog did you run over to—”
“Oh hell, Harry,” she interrupted. “You know the answer to that. It’s not what you know, it’s who you know. His cousin is ex-mayor, and I didn’t have a partner, so…”
“Sorry, Kate. Must be tough.”
“Not so much. He’s not that bad really, but he doesn’t like you, which means he becomes a total ass whenever you show up. Anyway, it is what it is, and I can live with it. Hell, I have to.”
I nodded. She did, and she would.
“Any identification on the body?”
“Nope, but we’ll run his prints, whatever. If he’s local, we’ll figure it out soon enough; it shouldn’t be difficult. This isn’t New York. Small Town, USA, right?”
“Right.” Everybody knows everybody around here, and even in a town of almost 200,000, someone would know him. A photo in the newspaper or on TV would bring them out of the woodwork. We’d have an ID within twenty-four hours.
“It’s Falk. I’d bet money on it. Well dressed. Dark gray business suit, white shirt, blue tie, black loafers. He’s about the right age, and the timing’s right, too. If he’s been in the water a week, that would make it Friday evening. Has to be, he’s still dressed in his work clothes, and Benny said he saw him in the Sorbonne that Friday night with a guy he’d never seen before. If it had been the weekend, he would probably have been dressed in jeans and a tee.”
“You could be right. We’ll know more when we get the autopsy report… Ah, here’s Doc Sheddon now.”
I looked off into the flashing lights. A small man, overweight, bald head, carrying a large black case was hurrying toward us.
“Good evening, Lieutenant. How’s it hanging, Harry? Whew. Why do these things always happen late at night?” he said to nobody in particular. He dropped down beside the body, opened his case, snapped on a pair of latex gloves, and went about his business. It took him less than five minutes before he stood and waved for the gurney.
“Not much to be done here. He’s been in the water five to seven days. Cause of death? Well, you can see that for yourself. You need this one in a hurry, I suppose,” he said, looking at Kate. “I’ll get on it tomorrow. Probably won’t be until after lunch. I’ll see you then, Lieutenant. You can attend, too, Harry, if you like.”
“Maybe. Thanks, Doc.”
He nodded and then hurried away through the lights.
“I have to be there, Harry, and I would imagine that Lonnie will want to be there, too, being a new detective and all.”
“Good luck with that,” I said with a grin. “I’ll pass. You can give me a call when you know more. I’m going home. I need some sleep.”
“You surely do, Harry. This is a murder case now. My case. If it is Falk, it’s connected, and I’ll be going to see Harper, probably early Monday morning. You want to join me?”
“Oh yes.”
“Okay. Sleep tight. I’ll head out myself in a minute or two.”
I left her there, watching them load the body onto the gurney. I shuddered. There’s something so terribly final about those black vinyl body bags.