get home until 3:30 a.m. last night, and she wasn’t there. I didn’t think anything of it, of course. She’s always been unpredictable in that regard.’
‘Was there any indication that she ever made it to your condo last night?’
Camilla frowned and tapped a long cherry-pink fingernail on her cherry-pink lips. ‘Come to think of it, not really. The bed she normally uses wasn’t mussed, there were no dishes in the sink … but that doesn’t mean she didn’t straighten the bed, although that would have been out of character.’
A sad portrait of Alan Sommers was filling in fast for Magozzi – an obviously troubled man living a high-risk lifestyle, drunk out of his gourd, stumbling along the river
‘None. But we have security cameras at every door. I have the tapes if you think they might help.’
It had taken Camilla less than half an hour to isolate the security footage that showed Alan Sommers in full bridal regalia entering and leaving the Tiara Club the night of his murder – alone both times – which eliminated all hope of an easy conclusion with a slam-dunk suspect.
‘Why don’t we ever pull a case where our perp is so stupid he gets caught in the act on surveillance tape wearing his work uniform with the name tag in plain view?’ Gino complained as Magozzi pulled the Cadillac away from the Tiara Club’s flashing neon and headed north toward Alan Sommers’ apartment. ‘You read about that stuff all the time, but it never happens to us.’
‘That’s because the really stupid felons are almost always bank robbers.’
Gino sighed. ‘We should move over to Robbery, then.’
‘I thought you were angling for Water Rescue.’
‘A mere pipe dream. I can’t swim.’
‘Seriously?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Why don’t I know that about you?’
‘Why would you? It’s not like you ever asked me to go surfing or anything. Shit. It’s late. I better call Angela.’
While Gino checked on his hearth and home, Magozzi watched the neighborhoods deteriorate with each city block.
Gino clicked off his cell phone just as Magozzi pulled into the parking lot of the Stop-and-Go. ‘How’s the homestead rolling without you?’
‘It all went to hell in a handbasket. The little guy has a fever and Helen has a sore throat. Angela told me to take vitamin C.’
‘What’s that do, and where are you going to get it?’
‘Are you kidding? She tucks shit like that in my pants pockets every day, and it does absolutely nothing except keep my marriage intact.’ Gino craned his neck and looked out the windshield at the darkened Stop-and-Go sign. ‘When I was on the beat, the guys used to call this place “the Stop-and-Die.” Doesn’t look much better than it did back in the day. And it’s closed, damnit. Don’t tell me we have to come back here tomorrow for interviews.’
Magozzi shrugged. ‘My gut tells me Alan Sommers wasn’t killed by anybody he knew or worked with. Camilla said everybody loved him – and we didn’t see any Norman Bates-type stalkers on the vid.’
‘That was a bummer, wasn’t it? So Alan Sommers was
‘That’s what I’m thinking. Let’s see what turns up in his apartment and we can go from there.’
Gino nodded, then unsnapped his holster and drew his gun. ‘I’m going in armed and dangerous. This place still gives me the creeps.’
It took them a few minutes to find the battered metal access door behind the Stop-and-Go that led up a flight of stairs to a squalid, dark hallway of doors. The place was a true dump, crawling with cockroaches and rodents that didn’t seem the least bit put out by the presence of humans. If there were any other squatters utilizing the space, they were either dead, very quiet, or out for the night, because the place was as silent as an anechoic chamber. It was the kind of silence that was inherently and deeply menacing – and, oddly, the same kind of silence that kept you dead quiet. If you didn’t make any noise, the bad things might not
‘Was there any indication that she ever made it to your condo last night?’
Camilla frowned and tapped a long cherry-pink fingernail on her cherry-pink lips. ‘Come to think of it, not really. The bed she normally uses wasn’t mussed, there were no dishes in the sink … but that doesn’t mean she didn’t straighten the bed, although that would have been out of character.’
A sad portrait of Alan Sommers was filling in fast for Magozzi – an obviously troubled man living a high-risk lifestyle, drunk out of his gourd, stumbling along the river
‘None. But we have security cameras at every door. I have the tapes if you think they might help.’
It had taken Camilla less than half an hour to isolate the security footage that showed Alan Sommers in full bridal regalia entering and leaving the Tiara Club the night of his murder – alone both times – which eliminated all hope of an easy conclusion with a slam-dunk suspect.
‘Why don’t we ever pull a case where our perp is so stupid he gets caught in the act on surveillance tape wearing his work uniform with the name tag in plain view?’ Gino complained as Magozzi pulled the Cadillac away from the Tiara Club’s flashing neon and headed north toward Alan Sommers’ apartment. ‘You read about that stuff all the time, but it never happens to us.’
‘That’s because the really stupid felons are almost always bank robbers.’
Gino sighed. ‘We should move over to Robbery, then.’
‘I thought you were angling for Water Rescue.’
‘A mere pipe dream. I can’t swim.’
‘Seriously?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Why don’t I know that about you?’
‘Why would you? It’s not like you ever asked me to go surfing or anything. Shit. It’s late. I better call Angela.’
While Gino checked on his hearth and home, Magozzi watched the neighborhoods deteriorate with each city block.
Gino clicked off his cell phone just as Magozzi pulled into the parking lot of the Stop-and-Go. ‘How’s the homestead rolling without you?’
‘It all went to hell in a handbasket. The little guy has a fever and Helen has a sore throat. Angela told me to take vitamin C.’
‘What’s that do, and where are you going to get it?’
‘Are you kidding? She tucks shit like that in my pants pockets every day, and it does absolutely nothing except keep my marriage intact.’ Gino craned his neck and looked out the windshield at the darkened Stop-and-Go sign. ‘When I was on the beat, the guys used to call this place “the Stop-and-Die.” Doesn’t look much better than it did back in the day. And it’s closed, damnit. Don’t tell me we have to come back here tomorrow for interviews.’
Magozzi shrugged. ‘My gut tells me Alan Sommers wasn’t killed by anybody he knew or worked with. Camilla said everybody loved him – and we didn’t see any Norman Bates-type stalkers on the vid.’
‘That was a bummer, wasn’t it? So Alan Sommers was
‘That’s what I’m thinking. Let’s see what turns up in his apartment and we can go from there.’
Gino nodded, then unsnapped his holster and drew his gun. ‘I’m going in armed and dangerous. This place still gives me the creeps.’
It took them a few minutes to find the battered metal access door behind the Stop-and-Go that led up a flight of stairs to a squalid, dark hallway of doors. The place was a true dump, crawling with cockroaches and rodents that didn’t seem the least bit put out by the presence of humans. If there were any other squatters utilizing the space, they were either dead, very quiet, or out for the night, because the place was as silent as an anechoic chamber. It was the kind of silence that was inherently and deeply menacing – and, oddly, the same kind of silence that kept you dead quiet. If you didn’t make any noise, the bad things might not
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