night?”
“Yeah, that was mine.”
“It doesn’t take a homicide detective to figure out this is the same guy,” said Beck.
Beck had spent his entire career in uniform, but like many command officers, that never stopped him from thinking he was an expert at investigations, even though he never even investigated a residential burglary as a detective.
The yellow tape cordoned off an area twice the size as the previous night, and twice the number of patrol officers roamed the area. Several greeted him as he walked by. Sinclair slid under the tape. Talbert was snapping photos.The body, dressed in running clothes, was laid out on the sidewalk in front of the bus bench.
“Paramedics got here before us,” said Beck. “They found her on the bench in a sitting position. Put her on the ground to check vitals and start CPR, but rigor already present. Pronounced her.”
“Any ID?”
“Paramedics felt something in the back pocket of her shorts, but we’re waiting for the coroner before we disturb the body. I already called them.”
“It used to be patrol waited for homicide to arrive and make that decision,” said Sinclair.
“Seemed like a no-brainer to me, Sinclair. Two bodies the same place in two days might generate media attention. Figured we’d clean this up and get out of here quick.”
Sinclair glared at him. “We stay as long as it takes.”
“Whatever,” Beck replied. “I also called the chief’s office and PIO. Figured we’d get ahead of this.”
Involving the department’s public information officer and the police chief before Sinclair even made it to the scene meant he’d have a slew of people getting in his way. “What else did you say? Since it’s my case, it would be nice if I knew at least as much as the chief.”
“I told him it looks like we have another well-to-do victim, just like last night.”
“We don’t know who she is yet, right?”
“No, but look at her. Manicure and fancy haircut. She didn’t get highlights like that at Supercuts, and the diamond on her left hand is at least two carats. My wife’s pressuring me for a bigger one, so I notice these things.”
Sinclair crouched and looked at her ring. Maybe Beck wasn’t totally useless.
“The chief said he was coming here himself and told me to call your lieutenant,” said Beck.
“That’s fucking great.”
“I’m just doing my job, Sinclair. I didn’t ask him to come.”
“You’re just doing it too well, Lieutenant. What else?”
“Last bus of the night came by eleven thirtyish, driver sees a woman sitting there not moving. All the drivers are spooked after yesterday, so he calls it in. I got a unit at the bus yard getting his statement. Checked missing persons reports, but no similars. Doing the normal canvass of the area. Nothing so far.”
Talbert slung her camera around her neck and stepped forward once Beck finished.
“Talk to me, Joyce,” Sinclair said.
“Haven’t found anything of value. I’ll print the shelter again. Got some close-ups of the vic, and I’ll get more when the coroner gets here and rolls her.”
“Did you finish your report from the last one?”
“I was gonna finish it up tonight, but they sent me on this as soon as I hit in-service on the radio.”
“Should I get another tech here?”
“I can handle it. I won’t go home until I have both reports finished and on your desk.”
The coroner’s van arrived and Charlie Dawson stepped out. After he and Sinclair exchanged information, both coroner investigators gloved up and ducked under the tape.
Dawson extended the corpse’s arms, showing Sinclair long, deep cuts in both forearms. “Classic suicide cuts,” Dawson said. He twisted the arms around, showing a band of superficial cuts and abrasions around both wrists.
“Flex-cuffs—just like the last one,” said Sinclair.
“Same thing on the ankles.”
Dawson rolled the body and pulled two cards from a Velcro-closed pocket of her shorts. He held up a
“Yeah, that was mine.”
“It doesn’t take a homicide detective to figure out this is the same guy,” said Beck.
Beck had spent his entire career in uniform, but like many command officers, that never stopped him from thinking he was an expert at investigations, even though he never even investigated a residential burglary as a detective.
The yellow tape cordoned off an area twice the size as the previous night, and twice the number of patrol officers roamed the area. Several greeted him as he walked by. Sinclair slid under the tape. Talbert was snapping photos.The body, dressed in running clothes, was laid out on the sidewalk in front of the bus bench.
“Paramedics got here before us,” said Beck. “They found her on the bench in a sitting position. Put her on the ground to check vitals and start CPR, but rigor already present. Pronounced her.”
“Any ID?”
“Paramedics felt something in the back pocket of her shorts, but we’re waiting for the coroner before we disturb the body. I already called them.”
“It used to be patrol waited for homicide to arrive and make that decision,” said Sinclair.
“Seemed like a no-brainer to me, Sinclair. Two bodies the same place in two days might generate media attention. Figured we’d clean this up and get out of here quick.”
Sinclair glared at him. “We stay as long as it takes.”
“Whatever,” Beck replied. “I also called the chief’s office and PIO. Figured we’d get ahead of this.”
Involving the department’s public information officer and the police chief before Sinclair even made it to the scene meant he’d have a slew of people getting in his way. “What else did you say? Since it’s my case, it would be nice if I knew at least as much as the chief.”
“I told him it looks like we have another well-to-do victim, just like last night.”
“We don’t know who she is yet, right?”
“No, but look at her. Manicure and fancy haircut. She didn’t get highlights like that at Supercuts, and the diamond on her left hand is at least two carats. My wife’s pressuring me for a bigger one, so I notice these things.”
Sinclair crouched and looked at her ring. Maybe Beck wasn’t totally useless.
“The chief said he was coming here himself and told me to call your lieutenant,” said Beck.
“That’s fucking great.”
“I’m just doing my job, Sinclair. I didn’t ask him to come.”
“You’re just doing it too well, Lieutenant. What else?”
“Last bus of the night came by eleven thirtyish, driver sees a woman sitting there not moving. All the drivers are spooked after yesterday, so he calls it in. I got a unit at the bus yard getting his statement. Checked missing persons reports, but no similars. Doing the normal canvass of the area. Nothing so far.”
Talbert slung her camera around her neck and stepped forward once Beck finished.
“Talk to me, Joyce,” Sinclair said.
“Haven’t found anything of value. I’ll print the shelter again. Got some close-ups of the vic, and I’ll get more when the coroner gets here and rolls her.”
“Did you finish your report from the last one?”
“I was gonna finish it up tonight, but they sent me on this as soon as I hit in-service on the radio.”
“Should I get another tech here?”
“I can handle it. I won’t go home until I have both reports finished and on your desk.”
The coroner’s van arrived and Charlie Dawson stepped out. After he and Sinclair exchanged information, both coroner investigators gloved up and ducked under the tape.
Dawson extended the corpse’s arms, showing Sinclair long, deep cuts in both forearms. “Classic suicide cuts,” Dawson said. He twisted the arms around, showing a band of superficial cuts and abrasions around both wrists.
“Flex-cuffs—just like the last one,” said Sinclair.
“Same thing on the ankles.”
Dawson rolled the body and pulled two cards from a Velcro-closed pocket of her shorts. He held up a
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