Without remorse - Tom Clancy [136]
Douglas answered. 'Looks that way. No gun, no drugs or money to speak of. Whoever did it knew their business. Looks real professional, Em. This wasn't some junkie who got lucky.'
'I'd have to say that's the morning line, Tom,' Ryan replied, standing up. 'Probably a revolver, but those groups are awfully tight for a Saturday-night special. Mark, any word on an experienced robber working the street?'
'The Duo,' Charon said. 'But they use a shotgun.'
'This is almost like a mob hit. Look 'em straight in the eye - whack.' Douglas thought about his words. No, that wasn't quite right either, was it? Mob hits were almost never this elegant. Criminals were not proficient marksmen, and they used cheap weapons for the most part. He and Ryan had investigated a handful of gang-related murders, and typically the victim had either been shot in the back of the head at contact range, with all the obvious forensic signs that attended such an event, or the damage was done so haphazardly that the victim was more likely to have a dozen widely scattered holes in his anatomy. These two had been taken out by someone who knew his business, and the collection of highly skilled Mafia soldiers was very slim indeed. But who had ever said that homicide investigation was an exact science? This crime scene was a mix of the routine and the unusual. A simple robbery in that the drugs and money of the victims were missing, but an unusually skillful killing in the fact that the shooter had been either very lucky - twice - or an expert shot. And a mob hit was usually not disguised as a robbery or anything else. A mob murder was most often a public statement.
'Mark, any noise on the street about a turf war?' Douglas asked.
'No, not really, nothing organized. A lot of stuff between pushers over street corners, but that isn't news.'
'You might want to ask around,' Lieutenant Ryan suggested.
'No problem, Em. I'll have my people check that out.'
We're not going to solve this one fast - maybe never, Ryan thought. Well, he thought.
'Can I have 'em now?'
'All yours,' Ryan told the man from the medical examiner's office. His black station wagon was ready, and the day was warming up. Already flies were buzzing around, drawn to the smell of blood. He headed off to his own car, accompanied by Tom Douglas. Junior detectives would have the rest of the routine work.
'Somebody that knows how to shoot - better than me even,' Douglas said as they drove back downtown. He'd tried out for the department's pistol team once.
'Well, lots of people with that skill are around now, Tom. Maybe some have found employment with our organized friends.'
'Professional hit, then?'
'We'll call it skillful for now,' Ryan suggested as an alternative. 'We'll let Mark do some of the scutwork on the intelligence side.'
'That makes me feel warm all over.' Douglas snorted.
* * *
Kelly arose at ten-thirty, feeling clean for the first time in several days. He'd showered immediately on returning to his apartment, wondering if in doing so he'd left rings on the sewers. Now he could shave, even, and that compensated for the lack of sleep. Before breakfast - brunch - Kelly drove half a mile to a local park and ran for thirty minutes, then drove back home for another thoroughly wonderful shower and some food. Then there was work to do. All the clothing from the previous evening was in a brown paper grocery bag - slacks, shirt, underwear, socks, and shoes. It seemed a shame to part with the bush jacket, whose size and pockets had proven to be so useful. He'd have to get another, probably several. He felt certain that he hadn't been splattered with blood this time, but the dark colors made it difficult to be sure, and they probably did carry powder residue, and this was not the time to take any chances at all. Leftover food and coffee grounds went on top of the clothing, and found their way into the apartment complex's Dumpster. Kelly had considered taking them to a distant dumpsite, but that might cause more trouble than it solved. Someone might see him, and take note of what