Without remorse - Tom Clancy [134]
CHAPTER 16
Exercises
Ryan and Douglas stood back, letting the forensics people do their jobs. The discovery had happened just after five in the morning. On his routine patrol pattern, Officer Chuck Monroe had come down the street, and spotting an irregular shadow in this passage between houses, shone his car light down it. The dark shape might easily have been a drunk passed out and sleeping it off, but the white spotlight had reflected off the pool of red and bathed the arched bricks in a pink glow that looked wrong from the first instant. Monroe had parked his car and come in for a look, then made his call. The officer was leaning on the side of his car now, smoking a cigarette and going over the details of his discovery, which was to him less horrific and more routine than civilians understood. He hadn't even bothered to call an ambulance. These two men were clearly beyond any medical redemption.
'Bodies sure do bleed a lot,' Douglas observed. It wasn't a statement of any significance, just words to fill the silence as the cameras flashed for one last roll of color film. It looked as if two full-size cans of red paint had been poured in one spot.
'Time of death?' Ryan asked the representative from the coroner's office.
'Not too long ago,' the man said, lifting one hand. 'No rigor yet. After midnight certainly, probably after two.'
The cause of death didn't require a question. The holes in both men's foreheads answered that.
'Monroe?' Ryan called. The young officer came over. 'What do you know about these two?'
'Both pushers. Older one on the right there is Maceo Donald, street name is Ju-Ju. The one on the left, I don't know, but he worked with Donald.'
'Good eye spotting them, patrolman. Anything else?' Sergeant Douglas asked.
Monroe shook his head. 'No, sir. Nothing at all. Pretty quiet night in the district, as a matter of fact. I came through this area maybe four times on my shift, and I didn't see anything out of the ordinary. The usual pushers doing the usual business.' The implied criticism of the situation that everyone had to acknowledge as normal went unanswered. It was a Monday morning, after all, and that was bad enough for anyone.
'Finished,' the senior photographer said. He and his partner, on the other side of the bodies, got out of the way.
Ryan was already looking around. There was a good deal of ambient light in the passageway, and the detective augmented that with a large flashlight, playing its beam over the edges of the walkway, his eyes looking for a coppery reflection.
'See any shell casing, Tom?' he asked Douglas, who was doing the same thing.
'Nope. They were shot from this direction, too, don't you think?'
'Bodies haven't been moved,' the coroner said unnecessarily, adding, 'Yes, definitely both shot from this side. Both were lying down when they were shot.'
Douglas and Ryan took their time, examining every inch of the passageway three times, for thoroughness was their main professional weapon, and they had all the time in the world - or at least a few hours, which amounted to the same thing. A crime scene like this was one you prayed for. No grass to conceal evidence, no furniture, just a bare brick corridor not five feet wide, everything self-contained. That would be a time-saver.
'Nothing at all, Em,' Douglas said, finishing his third sweep.
'Probably a revolver, then.' It was a logical observation. Light .22 shell casings, ejected from an automatic, could fly incredible distances, and were so small that finding them could drive one to distraction. Rare was the criminal who recovered his brass, and to have recovered four little .22s in the dark - no, that wasn't very likely.
'Some robber with a cheap one, want to bet?' Douglas asked.
'Could be.' Both men approached the bodies and squatted down close to them for the first time.
'No obvious powder marks,' the sergeant said in some surprise.
'Any of these houses occupied?' Ryan asked Monroe.
'Not either one of these, sir,' Monroe said, indicating both of those bordering