Read Online Crossing the Line by Barbara Elsborg, Deco, Susan Lee - Free Book Online Page A

the shed?” Brannon could hear them barking.
    “Yeah. They’ll need feeding.”
    “They bad tempered?” Jose asked.
    “Yep.”
    “Call Animal Control,” Brannon said to Mike. “If you’d wait here, Mr. Chavez, while we look inside.”
    The two detectives stopped by the door, put paper booties over their shoes and tugged on gloves. Jose carried the camera while Brannon made notes. Not hard to miss the large number of empty beer cans and the playing cards.
    “No sign of a struggle,” Jose said.
    They moved slowly and methodically across the room to the door opposite and over to the bed where the woman lay. Jose pointed to the pillow and took a photograph. “Bloody fingerprints?”
    “Looks like it.”
    “Something’s been wiped up by the bed.” Jose took another couple of shots.
    Brannon nodded at the medicine. “Sick lady.”
    He lifted a picture frame from the dressing table. The Novikovs on their wedding day, the fat-cheeked bride barely recognizable as the woman on the bed.
    The next door led to the bathroom. Brannon glanced in before moving on. There might well be evidence in there, but there was no body. The dark, coppery smell of blood was strong now. He heard the flies before he saw them. Jose groaned and started snapping. Brannon took mental pictures.
    Blood had dripped and pooled on the wooden floor in a congealed mess like some grisly Rorschach test. This looked to be the primary crime scene though he took nothing for granted. They moved closer to the body, but didn’t touch it. Brannon noted the wounds at the neck and back, the knife in the guy’s hand.
    Jose photographed, then lifted the items of clothing lying on the floor and took a wallet from the pants. “Vasily Novikov. Fifty last month. Thirty-two dollars in cash. Credit card receipt for gas dated two days ago.”
    “So where’s his vehicle?”
    “Look, another knife.” Jose pointed under the bed.
    Brannon grunted. He sketched the layout of the room and the position of the body. This cautious walk through showed they were in for a long night.
    They went back to talk to Chavez, who was scuffing his boot on the ground.
    “Any idea why they’re dead?” Jose asked.
    Chavez shrugged. “Maybe Irina died and Vasily killed himself. She had cancer. I know the doctors hadn’t given her long.”
    “What were they doing when you left?”
    “Irina was asleep, Vasily was fine.”
    “Much drinking?”
    “Yeah, but not Setter. He drove.”
    “Very commendable,” Brannon said. “Playing for money?”
    “Peanuts.”
    “Who won?” Brannon asked.
    Chavez hesitated. “We…we were about even.”
    “No-one on top?” the detective pressed.
    “We split the proceeds.”
    “What did Novikov drive?”
    “Chevy pickup. It was here last night.”
    “We’ll need you to give a formal statement.”
    “Sure, no problem.”
    The glare of headlights suddenly lit up the scene.
    “Evening, boys.” Dr. Jack Caldwell, the medical examiner, got out of his car. He called all policemen “boys” regardless of age. Brannon reckoned it saved him having to remember names. The female cops were “ladies.” He wouldn’t risk calling them girls.
    Caldwell followed the two detectives to the house and pulled on a pair of gloves. Brannon filled him in and watched as the ME checked the medication next to the bed, made a note and then examined the woman’s body. He took photographs of his own, leaned over her and sniffed a couple of times. He checked Irina’s scalp, worked down one side of the body and then the other before the three of them turned her for him to do everything again.
    The ME sighed. “I’d put time of death around eighteen hours ago. Lividity fixed on her back. She’s not been moved post mortem. She was also in the terminal stages of cancer. These are strong drugs. She could have died in her sleep. No sign of strangulation. No obvious petechial hemorrhages.”
    “We wondered about the pillow,” Brannon said.
    Caldwell cocked his head