David
“Detective Bowen?”
Distracted, I fumble through my pockets seeking out the comforting weight of my crumpled cigarette packet. The absence of such a thing must mean I left them in the car. Shit.
“David.”
The coroner’s insistent use of my first name drags my attention back to her standing before me, clipboard in hand and dark brow angled up in irritation.
“Sorry, sorry, you were saying?”
She tuts softly before continuing. “Two gunshot wounds to the chest, close quarters. One was through and through, the bullet hit the wall over there.” She points her pen across the room and I half follow her indication, nodding.
“And the other?”
“The other almost looks like an execution from the angle but I’ll know more when we get him back to the morgue.” She glances down at her clipboard and her rimmed glasses slip down her nose. “Poor sod never stood a chance.”
“Did we get an ID?”
If looks could kill, the coroner would have slain me dead right there.
“That’s Charlie Sayton, sir,” interrupts one of the on-scene officers, and I turn to him as he flips through the small black book in his hand. “He’s the president of Lodestar Skylines. He runs the company with CEO Mercer Williams.”
“Have we tracked down Mercer?” I ask and turn my eye to the crime scene. Not only do we have one dead body but the place is a mess. Someone was definitely looking for something.
“No sir,” the officer continues. “He hasn’t answered any of our calls and we sent a squad to his house. Nobody home. We did find his car parked the next street over, which suggests he was here in some capacity.”
“Alright, put out an APB on Mercer. At the very least someone should tell him his friend is dead.”
“Already on it,” the officer replies. Looking back at him, he wears the smile and soft look of a puppy expecting praise for doing the bare minimum. A curl of distaste rises in my gut. Although that could be the need for a smoke.
“Cameras? Place like this has to have decent CCTV.”
“Footage from inside the building has been wiped, but I’ll put in a request for the cameras in the street and surrounding area.”
The cameras being wiped surprises me. Either this was planned or we have an extremely conscientious murderer on our hands.
“Anything else?” I prompt, denying this guy the affirmation he clearly craves.
“Uh… no,” he declares, somewhat unsure.
“Are you certain?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well just look at this place.” I give the coroner a slight smile as I pass her and step around the body bag on the floor. “The filing cabinets are all open, computer monitor’s on the floor—unless they have a really unique way of sorting things, I’d say this place has been rifled through. The safe is open, and I might not be a billionaire businessman but I’m pretty sure that’s not a good way to do business.”
“You’re thinking robbery?” The officer follows me just like a puppy. It would be endearing if I wasn’t so tired.
“Maybe. Either Charlie here interrupted someone looking for something important, or he died and they’re trying to cover it up by making it look like there was a robbery.”
“How do you know?”
I whip around the officer and those large puppy eyes stare at me, pen poised over his pad as if I’m about to deliver some incredible piece of knowledge only gained from all my years as an NYPD detective.
“What are you, kid, green as they come?” I sigh, and the coroner snorts her amusement into her work. “This Lodestar Skylines, everyone in the world should know their name.”
Puppy eyes blinks at me. Does he live under a rock?
“Lodestar is the leading champion in free housing. They buy up land, building homes and giving them away to the poor and needy. They reconstruct neighborhoods, they’re responsible for every wild park from here to the state line and then some. Billionaires focused on charity.” If that can be believed.
“And murder,” pipes up a nasally voice from the doorway. My gut flips and a flash of anger pulses through my body.
Detective Shummel. The last asshole I want to see at my crime scene. If ever there was a corrupt detective able to stroll around with his head held high, it’s that asshole. I’ve spent the later years of my career trying to prove that he is as corrupt as they come, but I’m always coming up short.
“Shummel.”
“Bowen!” Shummel sneers in my direction. “Survived that little investigation then? Never doubted you for a second.” His pale eyes narrow at me as all other eyes in the room flicker to me.
It’s no secret I was under investigation by Internal Affairs for corruption myself. The result of all my hard work into Shummel. What I would give to punch that cocky smirk right off his boney little face.
“Why, looking for tips when it’s your turn?” I snap back. Shummel just laughs.
“Anyway, like I was saying, billionaire turned murderer isn’t a stretch. Mercer’s name is all over this,” Shummel states casually as he wanders around the room.
“And how do you figure that?” Some would say it’s just rivalry, my burning desire to challenge Shummel at every turn, but I say it’s my good intuition knowing never to trust the word of a twisted copper.
“I spoke to security downstairs,” Shummel says. “Turns out, Mercer and Charlie have been having more than a few heated arguments lately, which is very out of character for both of them. Something that strange could easily lead to an argument getting out of hand.”
“That’s just speculation,” I reply, and I cast my eyes around the room, seeking anything to look at other than Shummel. I settle on an evidence card sitting on a desk corner near some blood stains on the wood.
“Bowen, this is why your arrests are so low. Making up excuses for criminals never helps anyone. You’re supposed to catch and arrest them, not try and analyze them.”
Shummel’s voice grates right through me.
“What’s this?” I ask the puppy officer, seeking any distraction. He quickly clears his throat and checks his pad.
“Blood and blond hair were found against the edge of the desk indicating a scuffle or fight.” He recites it like a recipe.
“See?” Shummel remarks from the other side of the room.
“Either of them blond?” I ask.
“No, Charlie has brown hair and Mercer has black.”
“So where did the blond come from?”
Before the officer can answer, Shummel is beside me and the stink of his stagnant breath fills my lungs. The craving for a cigarette rises tenfold.
“You’re snatching at nothing here, Bowen. Mercer and Charlie have been arguing in front of their entire office. Mercer has a gun registered to him and Charlie died from two gunshot wounds to the chest,” Shummel sneers, revealing a row of yellow teeth.
“Circumstantial at best,” I mutter tightly. “Especially at this stage.”
“Anyone would think you’re trying to help the criminal here.” Shummel chuckles. “Take all that, plus the mess in the office and Mercer’s car abandoned nearby… I’m telling you; they fought and Charlie got the short end of the deal. Mercer’s on the run and we’ll catch him before sundown. Cut and dry.”
“It places him at the top of the suspect list, sure.” Bitterness laces my words. “But I’m going to make sure we follow the evidence to the killer, not piece together evidence around a suspect.”
Before Shummel can reply, I shove past him with a glance over my shoulder.
“Cordelia, can you have all your results sent directly to me?”
The coroner nods and I stride out of the room before Shummel can take another verbal swing at me. It bothers me how right he is though; at a glance everything points to Mercer. And it wouldn’t be the first time business partners had discovered some deals were worth killing over. It bothers me because it’s Shummel who said it, acting like he’s the be-all and end-all to murder-solving.
Back at my car, I hunt down my crumpled bag of cigarettes, light one, and take a deep drag. I should quit, but then days like this roll around and they’re the only thing that gets me through.
I glance up the street, watching people cast curious glances over the cop cars, and one person catches my attention. A woman wrestling a small child and trying to get some money out of an ATM machine that isn’t giving her a dime. She leaves, shoulders rising as she shoves her pram forward and the ATM machine blinks at me, out of sync.
Another CCTV camera to add to the list.
Shummel appears out of the building and I drop my cigarette, stomping the butt into the ground and climbing into my car before he can start another verbal fist fight.
Guilty or not, I’m going to catch Mercer just to swipe that smug look off of Shummel’s face.
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