Viper - Michael Morley [100]
Less than two hours after Bella had gone, the ME had already completed his visit.
Sylvia Tomms arrived with her brain still reeling from all the other developments – Creed; the Tortoricci murder; the killings at the Castellani camp; and of course Franco, the runaway cousin.
Lieutenant Marco Vassopolus – known by all who couldn’t remember how to say or spell his surname as Marco V – showed her around the scene. ‘Housekeeper found him like this. Bullet wound to the skull. Silencer. No forced entry.’
‘ME give you time of death?’
Marco shook his head. ‘Still fixing it. He did a partial on the body, said by the cooling he reckoned it might be ten to twelve hours ago.’
Sylvia checked her watch. ‘Late night, early morning by the sound of it.’ She walked the protective transparent sheets around the deflated, blood-soaked waterbed where the corpse still lay. It looked like Sorrentino had fallen into the mouth of a giant man-eating plant. Something straight out of Beetlejuice.
‘The guy was a skunk, but he didn’t deserve this.’ She bent over the body. ‘When will the van be here to move him?’
‘Next thirty minutes. Morgue said they’ll ring when it’s on its way.’
Sylvia peered at Sorrentino’s waxy face. His jet-black hair was now plastered in the crimson gel of his own blood. ‘Hard to think that he was such a playboy. Tried it on with everything in a dress. Even me. Guess dying on his bed is somehow appropriate.’
‘Exhibits team said they found a lot of – you know – erotica, around the place.’
‘Erotica?’ Sylvia laughed. ‘Any chance of being more precise?’
He coloured a little. ‘Lubricants, lotions, velvet handcuffs –’
‘Velvet, eh? Imagine if we had those as standard issue. Any letters or diaries?’
‘No letters. We found some address books. Not one black book, but two – well, actually they were red and green address books.’
‘Let me guess, one for work, one for pleasure?’
‘Both pleasure. The green one was for women he’d slept with – complete with ratings out of ten – the red one was for those he was still hunting.’
‘Yeah, well, I guess all of us reds can heave a sigh of relief.’ Sylvia grimaced as she looked closer at Sorrentino’s empty eyes and pale-blue lips.
‘The bed’s blown out but he wasn’t popped on the mattress,’ said Marco. ‘Look near the edge and you can see where the perp slit it with something after he dropped the vic there.’
Marco always talked in American cop jargon and it irritated the hell out of her. She’d have picked another lieutenant if there had been any others to pick. Some of her homicide squad were currently working more cases than she was, and to top it all Pietro had called in sick.
‘Where exactly was he when he got shot?’ asked Sylvia, noticing no powder burn marks on Sorrentino’s face. ‘From the size and shape of the flesh wound it looks as though he was more than a metre away. Am I right?’
‘Doc said the same – though he didn’t stay long. He had another case to get to. Said he’d do his notes on this one when he got back to the lab.’
‘Who was it?’
‘Larusso.’
Sylvia slapped her forehead. ‘Was he sober?’
Marco V shrugged. It was about as diplomatic as he could manage.
Sylvia said what they were both thinking. ‘That man’s a disgrace. He should run a wine cellar not a Medical Examiner’s desk. What else did he say?’
Marco motioned his boss around the circular bed towards the doorway. ‘See the spatter up the wall? Larusso thinks the shooter took Sorrentino out just after he entered the bedroom. Light switch is interior left side of the door. Il Grande Leone comes in the darkened room, pops on the switch, takes a few paces forward and then, blam! That’s the way he thinks it went down.’
Sylvia studied the spatter marks. She wasn’t so sure. Sorrentino was a tall guy. Six foot, maybe six-one. The blood had sprayed vertically, not horizontally. ‘Look at the cornice and the ceiling,’ she said. ‘We’ve got spray up there and…’ she looked closer, wrinkled her face and added, ‘what also looks like