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

ice to form on the roads. A cruel wind was gusting in off the East River and the last few dead leaves that had been clinging on, like rotten teeth in an old man’s head, were finally letting go of their branches and falling to be crushed and trodden into sludge. Soon it would snow heavily. You could feel it in the air.

As we drove slowly back, through the damp cold, toward the 43rd, I played an old Mammas and Pappas song in my head and wondered about Cyril’s sister in California.

“I’m going to talk to the inspector,” I said. “We need to know about Cyril’s background. I also find it hard to believe that his sister doesn’t know where he is.”

“Good,” she said from under her shapeless woolen hat. “While you do that, I’m going to call the library, and also track down Cyril’s landlord. Maybe we can have a chat with him before we go to Cali’.” She glanced at me and shrugged. “To be honest, we’re clutching at straws, Stone. I don’t hold out much hope for this case. I think this is the one that got away. But you never know, right? When he gave notice, he might have said something about where he was going.” She sighed. “We also need to know more about Sue’s past. If I have time, I’ll get started on that too.”

I parked and we made our way unsteadily across the icy road to the entrance. There, Dehan went into the detectives’ room and I climbed the stairs to Deputy Inspector John Newman’s office. I knocked and went in. He was standing, watering a bonsai fig tree on his windowsill. Outside, the sunlight had faded on Story Avenue, leaving a gray translucence in its place.

“Good morning, John,” he said, and smiled without looking at me. “What can I do for you?”

I closed the door. “We’re looking into the Sue Benedict case, sir.”

He frowned and shook his head at the diminutive fig tree, like it was a naughty fig tree. “Nope,” he said.

“It’s twelve years old. Young woman found raped and murdered in her apartment on Patterson Avenue. They got a perfect DNA profile and a perfect set of finger and thumb prints from her throat, but there was no match on CODIS, IAFIS, or among the people who’d attended the Halloween party she was at.”

He made a small ‘harrumph’ noise, gestured to a chair and returned to his own behind the desk. “A case worthy of your and Dehan’s talents,” he said and smiled in the same comfortable way Bob Smith had. “How do you plan to tackle it?”

“There was just one guest, sir, who was not tested. Cyril Browne. He was a member of the same art class she went to, and he was also at the Halloween party that night. However, next morning he had vanished without a trace. The curious thing was that he had given both his landlord and his job notice that he was quitting, two months earlier.”

The inspector frowned and picked up a pencil, wagging it by the eraser as he narrowed his eyes. “He had planned to kill her for two months, then he struck after the Halloween party?”

“It’s possible. We are trying to track him down. His only known relative is his sister, but lives outside Sacramento, in California.”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “How do you manage it, Stone? Every winter you come up with a case that requires a trip to California.”

I spoke without expression. “It was Dehan who chose the case, sir.”

He chuckled and for a moment I wondered if he was related to Bob Smith. It was the same comfortable chuckle. “Can this woman not be contacted on the telephone?”

“Back in the day, Detective Rafa Montilla did just that. I believe his investigation was pretty exhaustive. However, she stonewalled him, and my gut is telling me that she has at least some idea of where Cyril is.” Before he could challenge me on the accuracy of my gut, I moved swiftly on. “In fact, sir, I am pretty certain that his family plays an important part in this case. From what we have been able to assertain from other witnesses, he seems to have been a rather…” I hesitated. “A rather troubled young man: extremely withdrawn, introverted, and, according to one of the witnesses, possibly obsessed with the victim. I think it’s important that we get some insight into his background, to help understand him and track him down, and for that I think we need to confront his sister in person.”

He nodded. “You know I trust your judgment, John. Just don’t turn it into a holiday. I know you won’t. What else are you doing, back here?”

“Re-interviewing the witnesses, having a second look at the DNA and fingerprints, running them through the databases again in case he has offended since and been caught. And we are going to talk to his ex-employer and his landlord, see if they know anything.”

He pursed his lips in a way that said he approved, and gave a single nod. “Good, keep me posted on any developments. Let me know when you’re heading off for Sacramento. You’ll fly, I take it.”

I told him we would and trotted back down the stairs to find Dehan clutching a large paper cup of coffee and staring at her laptop. I dropped into my chair, stretched out my legs and laced my fingers over my belly. “You keep drinking so much coffee your hair will go frizzy and your eyes will start bulging.”

Mo, at the desk across the aisle, looked over and nodded. “It’s true, that happened to a friend of my cousin in Detroit.”

We both narrowed our eyes at him.

He shrugged and went back to his work. “Whatever.”

Dehan said, “I called the library and spoke to the current manager. She vaguely remembered