Four Walls

knuckles are smooth and clean. No abrasions, no calluses. Whoever attacked Melendez was experienced and would have evidence of that experience on his hands. Evidence doesn't lie, Mr. el-Jabbar-and in this case, neither does lack of evidence. Who are you covering for?'

'I do not need to 'cover' for anyone, Detective. It was my wish that Jorge pay for Brother Malik's death.'

Mac shook his head. So now he was changing his story-he ordered the beat-down. 'Unfortunately, you collected your debt from the wrong man.' At el-Jabbar's confused expression, he added: 'Malik Washburne died of anaphylactic shock. Jorge Melendez didn't kill him.'

'What? But I was told-' He cut himself off.

Flack stared at him. 'Who told you?'

'It does not matter.'

'Yeah, it kind of does. See, info about suspects isn't something we like to have advertised in the middle of an investigation.'

'Probably one of the COs,' Andros said.

Russell drew himself up. 'What makes you say that, Officer?'

Andros shrugged. 'Most of the other COs liked Washburne for whatever stupid reason.'

Defensively, Flack said, 'He used to be a good cop.'

'Maybe-I don't know about that. I do know that everybody liked him.'

Pointedly, el-Jabbar said, 'Except for you, Officer Andros.'

Ignoring him, Andros said, 'The point is, I could see one of the COs telling 'Brother Hakim' here that Melendez was the suspect, 'cause they know just how he'd respond.'

'That doesn't make sense,' Russell said. 'And besides, if Detective Taylor is right, and el-Jabbar didn't do it, why take credit when it means going into the box?'

'Please.' Andros snorted. 'For him, solitary's a vacation. It's quiet, he gets food brought to him, and he can meditate.'

Flack turned to el-Jabbar. 'So how 'bout it, 'Brother'? Who gave Melendez up?'

'Again, Detective,' el-Jabbar said placidly, 'I prefer to protect my sources.'

'And protect yourself,' Mac said. 'Assuming Officer Andros is correct, and you give up a CO, there might be retribution.'

Archly, Russell said, 'That doesn't go on here.'

Mac didn't see any need to press the issue-though Andros did give another derisive snort. El-Jabbar wasn't going to talk. Mac wasn't thrilled, but it was also beside the point.

And they were no closer to finding out how Malik Washburne had died.

* * *

Danny Messer just loved the NYPD Crime Lab's proprietary computer-aided design program, which they used to reconstruct crime scenes.

The programming geeks had streamlined the whole thing, so all you had to do was enter in the height and weight of a person. If you wanted to add further details, you could, or you could just use the generic body. Then you entered the dimensions of the figure's surrounding environment.

It was all pretty basic stuff, but the streamlining was what made the difference. In particular, Danny loved the fact that it could cross-reference with the autopsy records, so all you had to do was enter the case number and it would provide an image of the body right away.

As soon as Sheldon came to him saying that they needed to reconstruct Malik Washburne's murder with the new information that showed he died from his throat closing up, Danny immediately ran to the computer like a kid on Christmas morning. Sheldon, of course, let him, knowing that Danny would piss and moan if he ran the program without him.

Danny could be a magnificent pain in the ass. He viewed it as one of his finest qualities.

Sheldon didn't, which was why he let Danny run the program.

'Okay,' Danny said, cracking his knuckles as he sat down at the ergonomic keyboard that Mac insisted on them using. He hated the stupid things, but every time he complained, Mac would e-mail him multiple studies on repetitive stress injuries until Danny shut up. Mac could also be a magnificent pain in the ass when he put his mind to it, only he was more subtle about it.

Danny didn't do subtle. It wasted too much energy.

First he called up the autopsy records for Malik Washburne and entered it into the CAD program. Immediately, an image of a generic male human figure of Washburne's height, weight, and build appeared on all three monitors in front of him. Then he created a second, identical image.

Sheldon had his full report from the crime scene, and he read out the dimensions of the weight bench, the barbell, and the doughnut weights that were on it. The crime-scene photos placed everything, including the doughnut weights that were on the barbell and the one on the ground.

'Hang on,' Danny said. 'Why would the weight be on the ground?'

'That's where we found it,' Sheldon said.

'Yeah, but why would Washburne have an uneven number of weights?'

'Dunno, but let's start with it there and see where it goes.'

'Yeah.' He placed everything where it belonged, putting one of the Washburne figures on the weight bench in the standard position and the other one where the body lay, based on Sheldon's photos.

Next they had to enter more precise information. Danny created another generic male figure. 'Where'd you find the thread on Washburne's body from the guy's pants?'

Sheldon reached over and grabbed the mouse.

'Hey! Who's doing this?' Danny protested.

'I could take half an hour to explain it, or I could just point the damn mouse,' Sheldon said with a good- natured grin.

Sighing dramatically, Danny leaned back and said, 'Fine, fine, steal my thunder.'

Shaking his head, Sheldon said, 'You are such a geek.'

'Yeah, bite me, Doc.'

Once Sheldon clicked on the spot where they found the thread, Danny gently pushed him out of the way and started entering in the trajectory he needed the second figure to take in order to leave the thread.

'Now for the real important question-how hard does he have to hit in order to knock Washburne onto the floor?'

'Average foot speed for someone walking is three miles an hour,' Sheldon said. 'Well, actually, it's between two-point-eight and three-point-two miles an hour, but we should start with that.'

'You know that off the top of your head, but I'm the geek?'

'Absolutely,' Sheldon deadpanned.

Danny chuckled. 'That's probably too slow, but you're right, it's a good start.' He entered three miles per hour and had the second body walk in such a way that his left hip (where the seam was) would hit Washburne in the right spot in the shoulder.

The figure moved across the screen, and Washburne barely budged.

Sheldon rubbed his chin. 'If he was reacting to Barker getting stabbed, he probably wasn't walking at a leisurely pace.'

'Didn't I say that?' Danny asked with a cheeky grin. 'Let's make it eight.'

'I was thinking ten,' Sheldon said.

'Well, you're the expert on foot speed,' Danny said dryly, 'but that weight yard wasn't that big, and it was filled to capacity. Even if he was motorin', he wasn't gonna be able to go much more than eight.'

Tilting his head to the side, Sheldon said, 'Yeah, okay, let's go with eight.'

'Glad you approve.'

'Hey, this is my half of the case. You got the dunker, remember?'

'Oh yeah, exciting stuff. The guy confessed, and I got prints on the murder weapon that matched the guy who confessed. Wasn't exactly breakin' my brain, y'know? Flack may like the dunkers, but me? I like a challenge.'