Slaughter

The cop motioned again, this time to indicate the building entrance. Qui

“This way, Captain,” the cop said. That was when Qui

“How you doing, Vince?”

Royston’s face lit up. He was pleased to be recognized by Qui

It was a rhetorical question, but Royston said he was doing the best he could.

“Aren’t we all?” Qui

But sometimes he wondered.

“Third floor,” Royston said, realizing he wasn’t going to be engaged in a lengthy conversation. “Left off the elevator.”

Qui

The elevator looked purely functional on the outside, but when Qui

The elevator stopped smoothly and the door opened on the third-floor hall. Qui

A stalwart uniformed cop stood next to an open apartment door about fifty feet down the hall from the elevator. Qui

When Qui

Qui

Nift, the atrocious little medical examiner, was kneeling beside this victim in the way Qui

As he saw Qui

The victim, Dora Palm, was on the floor, lying in an awkward position that needed a second look to be sure she was real. The observer would see that her arms, legs, and head were about a quarter of an inch from where they should have been attached.

“Skillfully done, isn’t it?” Nift said.

“Strange skill, though. And why in this cramped little room did he put her on the floor instead of the bed?”

Nift looked thoughtful. “Could be he wanted her in the lowest position possible. A measure of her importance compared to his. Gremlin the conqueror, his conquest lying on the floor like a detached and broken doll.”

“Or it could be that it’s difficult to pose a dead woman on a soft mattress, especially with her limbs and head severed.”

“I could think of more interesting poses,” Nift said, looking beyond Qui

“I’m sure you could,” said a woman’s voice.

Pearl had walked in. Nift looked instantly interested. Pearl had on a light tan raincoat over a gray pants suit and a white blouse open at the neck. The neckline was low enough to show the swell of her more than ample breasts. Why would she unfasten that top button on her blouse, knowing Nift might be here?

Or had the blouse come unbuttoned and she hadn’t noticed?

The things women did that made men think. But then, he was the one doing that kind of thinking.

“Hello to all three of you,” Nift said.

Qui

Nift began packing his instruments in a container that would keep them separate from the sterile ones. He straightened up slowly, as if his back hurt. Pearl hoped it did.

It occurred to Qui

“Unless you have some reason for her not to,” Nift said, “it’s okay now for Dora Palm to leave for our rendezvous in the morgue. I’ll phone you later and give you facts and figures, among them a more accurate time of death.” He glanced around to make sure he wasn’t forgetting anything.

“By the way,” he said, “there’s a uniformed officer downstairs, a big cop named Vincent something. He can give you the name of the guy who found the body. Lives in Brooklyn and works for the company that’s doing the work now on rehabbing this area.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Qui

“His name’s Stan Gorshin. You’ll recognize him. He’s the only hard hat out there in a suit.”

Qui

Nift thought for longer than a minute. “Yeah. I think so. But I can’t be certain.”

“Seems nothing in life is certain.”

“Or in death,” Nift said.

There Qui

52

St. Louis, Missouri, 1999

Fran came in early the morning of a doubleheader that was going to be played because of an earlier rainout. Downtown St. Louis was still snoozing, as were most of the suburbs. But Fran knew that within a few hours, parking space would become a rare commodity, and expensive when you parked anywhere near the stadium.

She’d left the car near the double-wide where she and Willie lived and taken the Metro downtown.

By the time she was walking the short distance from the Metro-link stop to Busch Stadium, the slight drizzle had ceased, as the weather wonders on every TV cha

Fran picked up her pace and smiled. It was going to be a good day; she could feel it. She could take the register, spelled now and then by Willie or Henry. The new kid, Pablo, could work the kitchen. The Happy Brat was the kind of restaurant where no table service was expected. Alcoholic beverages could be ordered at the counter and would be brought tableside, but customers served everything else to themselves. To eat here or to get food to go. It always impressed Fran to see how many people liked to eat and drink while they walked.