I wasn’t sure if he was kidding me, so I didn’t say anything. “I don’t know how he knows,” the detective said earnestly, “but with all the vics, the carpet has always matched the drapes.” “Does this look like a dye job?” I said, plucking off my hat and ear warmers. “But how do I know you’re a natural blonde?” he said, sliding his unlit cigarette back into the pack. If you read histories of ancient Greece, they are usually described as a blonde race.” “So he must be calling escort services and asking for tall blondes.” “You said the other victims were all blondes?” “Most cops are fat and lazy, so you get points for trying.” “Sorry.” I’d hoped that my Kundalini had finally been turned on. You can go crazy if you start on an endless scavenger hunt. “You’re a crazy little go-getter, aren’t you? I like that.” “It doesn’t match anything she’s wearing, but I thought it might possibly be evidence.” Still wearing his latex gloves, he carefully took the lipstick. I showed him the lipstick I’d found on the stairs. I had the same partner for nearly twenty years. “My squad was here earlier they’re supposed to come back soon. Then I asked him back, “Do you always work on your own, sir?” He gives them some cheap over-the-counter shit, then once they’re nodding off, he strangles them with his hands.”Īfter a moment he asked, “So how long you been out of the academy?” “Nah, you only use roofies if you want to keep them alive, and he doesn’t want to screw them. “This guy drugs them, strangles them, and then beheads them. “Not when they’re already dead,” Bernie replied. “Wouldn’t a lot of blood have pumped out when he decapitated her?” Except for right here, there ain’t a drop of blood.” “Forensics told me, but I had to see it for myself. “This guy must’ve used a fucking drop cloth,” the detective said. Finally he took out a magnifying glass and inspected the floor. The detective snapped on a pair of latex gloves, took out his notebook, and started scribbling notes as he walked carefully around the room. Hopefully I could still make my evening yoga class. “We’ll be done by the end of your shift.” “You’re on a regular daytime shift, right? After he’s been here and checked out this body, you can call the morgue to come collect her. Looking at his wristwatch, Farrell said, “The medical examiner is still at a murder scene up in East Harlem. “Well, now he’s going to have to leave his hunting ground-’cause we’re going to be waiting for him in all the old familiar places.” “A stolen credit card that didn’t lead anywhere.” He could’ve been anywhere from forty to sixty, and wore dark sunglasses and a loose hoodie.
The detective pulled out a creased sketch that looked eerily similar to the one I remembered of the Unabomber. The clerk there clearly remembered the vic and her john.” “The clerk here said he had no recollection of the john, just the girl. Course, he had the power to authorize that and I don’t.” “Fuck, Bert would’ve had them all staked out-at least for a week after the last girl. He let out a big sigh and muttered, apparently to himself. But aside from being one of the cheapest, this crap-ass dive is one of the last three hotels in the area that doesn’t even have a video setup in the lobby.” Some of the rooms are three, four times the price of the girl. And the hotels around here are strictly all-night affairs. “Yeah, you still get a few desperadoes along Lex-but all our vics are from escort services.
“I’ve seen streetwalkers around here,” I said.
0 kommentar(er)
