Final justice - W.E.B. Griffin [83]
Charley McFadden and Hay-zus Martinez had been given the job because they had less on their plates when the job came in than Matt did. It hadn't taken McFadden and Martinez long to discover--Matt couldn't remember ever before having seen Charley so personally indignant--that a lot of stuff had disappeared over the past six months, and that it was pretty clear it had disappeared into the pockets of some of the M.E.'s technicians. They had apparently decided that since the deceased had no further need for rings, watches, other jewelry and cash, they might as well put the same to good use--their own.
Four of them had been arrested, tried, and convicted.
"Good morning, Doctor," Captain Smith said from the bedroom door.
"Hey, Smitty," Dr. Mitchell said, and then spotted Matt. "Hey, Payne. I saw your picture in the paper."
"Good morning, Doctor," Matt said. "The search warrant's en route."
Dr. Mitchell winked at D'Amata and Slayberg, then walked to the bedroom door, pulling on rubber gloves as he did so. The photographer followed him. Mitchell gestured with his hand for the photographer to stop at the door, then went inside.
The medical examiner needed no one's permission to enter the crime scene. It belonged to him until he released it to Homicide.
Matt walked to the bedroom door.
Dr. Mitchell bent over Cheryl Williamson's body, took a quick look, put his fingers on her carotid artery, looked at his watch, and announced, "I pronounce her dead as of ten fifty-five. "
He looked over his shoulder at Matt.
"Unofficially, it looks like her neck is broken, and to judge from the lividity of the body, I'd guess she's been dead eight, nine hours or so."
He signaled to the photographer that it was all right for him to enter the room, and started for the bedroom door.
Matt got his first look at the victim.
She was naked, with her legs spread apart by plastic ties tied to the footboard. Her upper body was twisted to the left. Her left hand was tied to the headboard, and Matt could see another tie hanging loose from her right wrist.
She looked at him out of sightless eyes, and his mind was instantly filled with Susan Reynolds's sightless eyes looking at him in the parking lot of the Crossroads Diner.
He felt the knot in his stomach and the cold sweat forming on his back, and stepped quickly away from the door.
Jesus, not now! Dear God, don't let me get sick to my stomach and make an ass of myself on my first Homicide job!
He bumped into something, somebody, and saw that it was Detective Olivia Lassiter, and that he had almost knocked her over.
She looked at him with what he thought was annoyance.
He started to say "Sorry," but was interrupted by Jack Williamson, bitterly asking, "You got a good look, I hope?"
He turned his back to Williamson and touched Detective Lassiter's arm.
"You get anything out of him?" and then, before she could reply, asked, "Why didn't you get him out of here?"
"I was just getting him calmed down enough to talk when you walked in," she said. "He doesn't want to leave, and I didn't want to push him."
"Come with me," Matt said.
"That sounds like an order," she said.
"Okay," Matt said. "It was a request, a suggestion, but I want you to come with me."
She met his eyes defiantly for a moment, then shrugged and turned away from the open door.
Matt walked to the couch. Jack Williamson looked up at him with cold contempt.
"Mr. Williamson, I'm Sergeant Payne. I'm the Homicide supervisor, and I need to talk to you, and we can't do that in here. In just a few minutes, there will be technicians all over the place, and we can't be in their way. I want you to come with Detective Lassiter and me to someplace where we can talk. Okay?"
"The lady next door offered anything we need," Olivia said. "What about her kitchen? She had said she would put a pot of coffee on."
"We'll just sit around and have a friendly cup of coffee, right? And maybe a Big Mac? With my sister like that in there?"
"We have to talk someplace, Mr. Williamson, and we have to get out of the