Dead Cold Mysteries Box Set #4: Books 13-16 (A Dead Cold Box Set) by Blake Banner (best ereader for academics .txt) 📕

Giorgio’s house with my toes going numb. Dehan was walking to meet me and behind her I could see the inspector talking on the telephone. As we came together, Dehan said, “He’s organizing a manhunt. Every car in the city, choppers, I think he’s even getting dogs out to search Soundview Park.”

I listened to her, then said, “He’s dead.”

“What?”

“Giorgio. He’s dead.”

“How do you know?”

“I don’t. I might be wrong. But, you know, I’m not. It’s logical. But we need to find him before…”

She was frowning like I was crazy. “Before what, Stone?”

I stood chewing my lip. I stared at her face for a moment, seeing only the movies playing out in my mind. I said, “The logical place would be where the party was. Come…”

I half ran, trying not to slip and fall, up the stairs and into his house, calling to every available uniform to follow me: “I want you to tear this house apart. Check every room, every cupboard, every wardrobe. Check the attic and the cellar if there is one. You and you, check the garage, check the trunk of his car. Check for hollow walls and loose floorboards. There might be a body hidden in this house. If there is, find it!”

It took two hours. Eventually they brought in a dog. We checked every corner of the building, every nook and every cranny. We even knocked on the nooks and crannies to see if they were hollow. Giorgio Gonzalez was not in the house where the Halloween party had been. That house was empty.

Finally the officers and the dog departed, to join the city-wide search for the Charger. The house was locked up and the inspector went home, advising us we should do the same. He climbed in the patrol car, the door clunked and the driver pulled away. As they carefully negotiated the corner, we could hear the choppers over Soundview Park describing their grid-pattern search, growing louder, then dimmer, with their powerful spots trained on the dark, desolate, frozen ground below. They would be using heat sensors too. But they would be useless in finding a corpse, especially in this weather.

In any case, the corpse would not be in the park. That would not make any sense. Everything this killer did had a meaning. And the only thing that made sense—that had meaning—was for the corpse to be where the Halloween party had been.

But it wasn’t there.

Eighteen

Dehan took my arm in both of hers. “C’mon, Stone. There’s nothing more we can do tonight. Let’s go get some rest. I could use a fire, a meal and a drink.”

I looked down into her face. Her brown, woolen hat was pulled low, almost to her eyes, and her nose was red from the cold. “A fire, a meal and a drink,” I said.

“Yeah.” She narrowed her eyes and gave me a thin smile.

I said, “Home.”

“Mm-hm…”

I walked back to the corner of Patterson and Taylor. This time I didn’t look west. I looked across at Bob Smith’s house. I could see slivers of light shining through the edges of his drapes. I turned and looked then at the building where Sue Benedict had had her apartment, with the flight of ten steps running up the outside to her front door. All the windows were dark. Dehan came up beside me. “What is it?”

“I’m not sure. Come.”

I crossed the road to Bob’s house and rang on the bell. After a couple of minutes, he opened the door and smiled at us. He still looked amiably comfortable. “Good heavens!” he said. “You look frozen. Come in, for goodness’ sake! Come in and warm up.”

We followed him through to his living room, where three cats lay in front of a blazing fire, and a fourth lay across the back of his sofa. “Can I offer you a drink to warm you up?”

I shook my head. “We won’t keep you, Mr. Smith. I just have a couple of small questions. The house opposite, where Sue used to live…”

“Yes, on the corner.”

“Do you happen to know who lives there now?”

He raised his eyebrows. “No. In fact, I don’t think anybody lives there. I can’t remember the last person I saw coming in or out. It must be…” He gazed down at the flames, shaking his head slightly. “Oh, at least eight or nine years.”

“Did you notice anybody going in or out today?”

He gave his comfortable chuckle. “We haven’t been in the garden today, with this weather. So no, I haven’t noticed the goings-on in the street, except all the sirens in the last few hours of course.”

I pulled out my phone, dialed and waited. It rang once and Bernie said, “Stone, I’m not quite ready.”

“No, it’s something else. I know you have a family, Bernie, but this is critical.”

“No problem. She wants a divorce anyway.”

I gave him the address. “Who owns this? Also, when Cyril Browne died,” I gave him the details, “Who was the beneficiary of his life insurance?”

“This might take a little longer. I’ll get back to you.”

“Thanks.”

I hung up and called the Inspector.

“Stone! Any news?”

“In five minutes. Right now I need a search warrant for Sue Benedict’s apartment.”

“On what grounds, Stone?”

“On the grounds that Giorgio Gonzalez’s body is in there.”

“How can you possibly know that?”

“Because, if I am right, nine years ago, Mary Browne bought Sue Benedict’s house with the money she got from the insurance pay out from Cyril’s death.”

“Are you sure about all of this, John?”

“I wouldn’t be calling if I wasn’t sure, sir. Start drafting, I’ll confirm it in five minutes.”

I hung up and the phone rang. As I answered, I saw Bob coming in from the kitchen with three mugs of black coffee on a tray. I said, “Bernie.”