D’Amata raised his voice.
“Kramer, put the Hustler down and take the phone.”
Detective Alonzo Kramer, who appeared to be reading a large ledger at his desk, waved his hand to indicate he understood he was now up on the wheel.
Matt Payne wondered if he really had a copy of Hustler magazine hidden behind the green ledger. And decided he didn’t want to know.
“What I will do now, Sergeant,” Joe D’Amata said, punching numbers on a telephone, “is inform the very clever technicians assigned to the Mobile Crime Lab that their services are going to be required.”
Other detectives-who, Matt did not need to be told, were the squad who would work the case-began to gather around D’Amata’s desk.
D’Amata put the telephone handset in its cradle.
“With your permission, Sergeant, I will designate Detectives Reeves and Grose to remain behind. Reeves, who went to night school and now reads almost at the sixth-grade level, will research the victim, see what he can find out about her in the files-does she have a rap sheet, outstanding warrants, et cetera, et cetera. Grose, who can’t read at all, will seek out a judge to get us a search warrant for the premises.”
Detectives Grose and Reeves, having picked up on what was happening, were smiling.
“I’m sure you’re aware, Sergeant,” D’Amata went on, “that our beloved Lieutenant Washington is picky-picky about getting a search warrant before we even start rooting in garbage cans in search of evidence, and photographing the deceased.”
“He has made that point, Detective,” Matt said.
“Something to do, I believe, with slimeball lawyers getting critters off because the evidence was gained unlawfully. ”
“So I was led to believe,” Matt said.
“And I think, with your permission, Sergeant, that I will designate Detective Slayberg-that’s the fat one in the cheap suit.. ”
“Screw you, Joe,” Detective Slayberg said, but he was smiling.
“… as the recorder. He’s very good at describing premises. ”
“So I usually get stuck with that, Sergeant,” Slayberg said.
“Many years ago,” Matt said mock seriously, “when I was a young police officer, I made the mistake of letting my sergeant know I could type with all the fingers on both hands.”
The others chuckled.
“Boy,” Slayberg said, “with all possible respect, Sergeant, that was a dumb fucking thing to do.”
“So I learned,” Matt said.
There were more chuckles.
“So now, these little details out of the way, and with your permission, Sergeant, I think we should proceed to the scene.”
“Absolutely.”
“With just about everybody working the Roy Rogers job, Matt, we’re a little short of wheels. You mind if Slayberg and I ride out there with you? Or did Quaire beat you out of that new car you brought with you?”
“Not yet,” Matt said. “But then, I haven’t been here very long.”
I wonder why Quaire didn’t grab the car?
He watched as all the detectives who would be going to the scene went to filing cabinets, unlocked them, and then took from them their personal equipment, which included their weapons, surgical rubber gloves, and leather- or vinyl-covered folders holding legal tablets.
He followed D’Amata out of Homicide, at the last moment picking up his briefcase, with his laptop inside, from atop a filing cabinet near the door.
When Matt got out of the unmarked Ford, he saw that yellow-and-black tape reading POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS had been strung along both sides of the path into the apartment complex to prohibit access to one of the buildings.
Two uniformed white shirts, a captain and a lieutenant, were standing talking to two detectives, one of them a woman, on the concrete path in front of what was obviously the crime scene.
“Captain Alex Smith, the district commander,” Joe D’Amata said. “Good guy. I don’t make the lieutenant.”
“Lew Sawyer,” Slayberg furnished. “He’s a prick. The broad is from Special Victims, and she’s a real bitch.”
“What the fuck is she doing here?” Slayberg asked. “Special Victims Unit doesn’t have anything to do with homicide investigations, even when the victim has been raped.”
“Smile nicely at her, Matt,” D’Amata said.
Captain Smith saw the three of them coming and smiled.
“Hello, Joe,” he said, putting out his hand.
“Good morning, sir. I know you know Harry, but… Sergeant Payne?”
“Yeah, sure, how are you, Harry?” He shook Slayberg’s hand. “I know who you are, Sergeant, but I don’t think we’ve ever actually met.”
“I don’t think so, sir,” Matt said, reaching for Smith’s outstretched hand.
“This is Lieutenant Sawyer,” Smith said. “And Detectives Domenico and Ellis, of Special Victims.”
“I think I used to see you around the Arsenal, didn’t I?” Detective Domenico asked.
There was something about her smile Matt didn’t like, and he remembered what Slayberg had said.
“I used to be out there with Special Operations,” Matt said.
Everybody nodded at each other, but no hands were shaken.
“What have we got, Captain?” Joe asked.
“A dead girl, the doer is probably a sicko, and maybe a problem.”
“What kind of a problem?”
“There was a ‘Disturbance, House’ call here last night. Two cars responded. The lady next door said her mirror fell off the wall. She said the trouble came from the Williamson apartment, and wanted them to check it out. There was no response when the officers rang the bell, no lights, no sounds, and no signs of a break-in. So they couldn’t take the door.”
“Uh-oh,” D’Amata said. “I think I know what’s coming.”
Captain Smith nodded.
“So they left,” he said. “And then the brother let himself in this morning, found his sister, and the lady next door told him what had happened last night. Actually, early this morning. And the brother is pretty upset with the police department for not taking the door the first time we were here.”
“Ouch,” D’Amata said.
Slayberg’s cellular buzzed.
He said his name, listened, then said, “Thanks. We just got here. Wait.” He turned to Matt.
“Sergeant, the search warrant is on the way. Grose will bring it. Reeves said there’s nothing but a couple of driving violations on either the victim or her brother, and wants to know what you want him to do.”
“Tell Grose to tell Reeves to come out with him and the warrant,” Matt said, forgetting that he had promised himself to keep his eyes open and his mouth shut.
He stole a quick glance at D’Amata, and saw nothing on his face to suggest he thought Matt had ordered the wrong thing. And he remembered what Quaire had said about his being expected to act like a sergeant.
“Why don’t we go have a quick look?” Matt said to D’Amata and Slayberg. “The search warrant’s on the way.”
He started to walk toward the stairs, and became aware that everybody started to follow him.
I’m not about to tell the district captain he can’t have a look at the scene, but that doesn’t apply to the lieutenant and certainly not to the smiling lady from Special Victims.
“It’s your job, Sergeant, but I would like a look.”
“After you, sir,” he said, waving Captain Smith ahead of him.
“Lieutenant, would you mind waiting until the Crime Lab people do their thing?” Matt asked.
“I just wanted a quick look, but you’re right,” Lieutenant Sawyer said.
