Killing the Blues - Michael Brandman [7]
Bauer was standing alongside his vehicle. The door was open. A woman was seated inside, visibly shaken. The body of a man lay on the pavement before them. Two EMTs stood next to the body.
Jesse motioned for Bauer to join him. “What’s happening here?” he said.
“The woman and her husband were leaving the theater when they encountered someone attempting to steal their car. The husband confronted the guy, who then got out of the car and attacked him. Killed him.”
Jesse looked at the body. The man’s neck lay at an odd angle, obviously broken.
One of the EMTs looked back at Jesse and shook his head.
“Did you call Mel Snyderman,” Jesse said to Bauer.
“The ME?”
Jesse nodded.
“Not yet,” Bauer said.
“You might want to give him a call. Fill him in on what happened.”
“Will do, Skipper,” Bauer said.
“You might also want to cover the body,” Jesse said.
“Sure thing, Skipper,” Bauer said. “I’ll get right on it.”
Jesse approached the woman, who was sitting quietly, staring blankly ahead.
“Jesse Stone,” he said. “Paradise police chief.”
The woman looked up at him.
“Can you tell me what took place here, Mrs. . . .”
“Lytell,” she said. “Nancy Lytell.”
“Can you tell me what happened, Mrs. Lytell?”
“Mike and I were at a movie,” she said. “We didn’t much care for it, so we left early. We saw this person inside our car. Mike, he always had a short fuse on him. He ran to the car and said something. I couldn’t hear. Then . . .”
Jesse waited.
“The man got out of the car and pushed Mike. He grabbed him and lifted him up. Then he threw him against the car.”
The parking lot filled with the sound of sirens as two police cruisers arrived.
“What happened then,” Jesse said.
“I don’t know. Mike was on the ground. He wasn’t moving. The man got back in the car. He somehow managed to get it started, and he drove away.”
“Can you describe the suspect?”
“The suspect?”
“The man who attacked your husband. Can you remember what he looked like?”
“I’m not really certain. He was bigger than Mike. It all happened so fast. I can’t really remember.”
“What type of vehicle was it,” Jesse said.
“What type?”
“What make.”
“Oh. It was a Honda. An Accord.”
Jesse didn’t say anything.
“I had my cell phone, you know. I used it to call nine-one-one. I sat next to Mike until that policeman arrived. Is he . . .”
“Your husband has passed away, Mrs. Lytell,” Jesse said. “I’m sorry.”
The woman sat silently for a while. “I knew it,” she said.
She started to cry.
Jesse summoned Bauer and told him to remain with the woman. Jesse asked him to try to locate a relative or a friend, someone who could stay with her.
Then he went to talk with Suitcase and the other officers who had responded to the call.
“I want the site cordoned. Shield the body. Keep people moving. No gawkers. I want this kept quiet. No press. Mel Snyderman and his crew should be here shortly.”
“What do you make of this,” Suit said.
“Nothing good,” Jesse said.
It was dark when Jesse got home.
Even in the dark, he loved the house. The night sounds and shadows lent it an aura of mystery. He could see the stars clearly. He could hear and smell the ocean outside.
He went inside and placed the bag of groceries on the kitchen counter. He placed his Colt Combat Commander on it also. He put some ice in a glass and poured himself a scotch. He drank some.
He turned the porch lights on and went outside to look for the cat. He couldn’t see it. He went inside and unpacked the groceries. He pulled out a bag of dry cat food and a dozen cans of wet food.
He took a bowl from the shelf, and got a half-gallon jug of milk from the refrigerator. He brought them both outside. He placed the bowl on the deck and filled it with milk.
He went back to the kitchen and filled another bowl with dry food, which he took outside and placed next to the milk.