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

fists at shoulder height. His eyes were open, staring up at the ceiling, and his mouth was contracted into an horrific grin. He didn’t have a lot to grin about. He’d been gutted like a fish, from his pubic bone to his solar plexus, and the wound was sagging open.

Dehan stood beside me and swore softly. Then she said, “His guts. They are all on the inside.”

I nodded, “And there isn’t much bleeding. Remember the neighbor called it in because there was blood leaking through the ceiling? That’s not the wound that killed him. The wound that killed him’s in his back. This wound was inflicted once he was lying down. But notice the position of his arms?”

“Yeah, it’s like his back went into spasm.”

“I’m betting Frank’s going to find a stab wound in his back, probably to the heart.”

I turned back to the door and examined the lock. There were no scratches, no signs of tampering. Dehan said, “Anything?”

“No.”

“So he lets his killer in and turns his back on him. He knew him, and he wasn’t scared of him.”

I returned to the room and took a moment to assimilate the scene. Outside a siren wailed. “The drapes are open, so it was probably still daylight. He’s facing the door. What is he? Four, five paces from it? He has one chair over by the window and the sofa on his left, and they are both behind him. He’s kind of level with this nearest chair, right?” She nodded. I pointed at a collection of bottles and glasses on a small sideboard on the left, beside the TV. “The drinks are over there. The kitchen is through that door over there.” I pointed to a door on the far right. “I guess the bathroom and the bedroom are down there too. So, what’s left?” I looked at her. “What’s over here? What was he doing? Where was he going? He’s standing in the middle of the floor, facing the door. There is nothing over here and his killer is behind him. What’s he doing?”

Dehan studied him a while, visualizing the scene. “Huh,” she said at last. “He doesn’t look like he was fleeing: he wasn’t running.” She gave her head a little jerk. “There were two people? He was talking to one of them while the other stabbed him? Or somebody rang at the bell? Pizza?”

“Maybe. That position of his hands, though. It’s weird. If he was walking to the door…” I made a short walk to demonstrate. “Your hands hang down by your side, don’t they? You get stabbed in the back, your shoulder blades contract, but your hands are down. His are up, like a begging dog.”

“Two men. He was warding off an attack from the front, and got stuck from behind…”

“Hmm… Maybe.”

The tramp of feet on the stairs told us that Frank had arrived with the Crime Scene team. We turned to greet them. Frank nodded at us as they bustled through the door with their equipment, the CS guys in their weird, white, plastic suits. There were a couple of subdued, “Detectives,” but mostly they just got to work. Frank hunkered down beside Fernando’s body and pulled on his latex gloves. A camera started to click and flash. I took a couple of steps nearer, with Dehan beside me. Frank spoke without looking up.

“Don’t come any closer. What do you want?”

“His right hand.”

“You want his right hand? Carmen, what is wrong with your husband?”

“No.” I pointed. “Look at it, the index finger, there is a smear of blood.”

He examined it with care for a moment. “There doesn’t seem to be a cut. I’ll have a closer look back at the lab.”

“Could be the killer’s DNA.”

“You are not only stating the obvious, John, you’re interfering with my work. Haven’t you got something useful to do? Somewhere else? Come and see me at the lab later and I can give you answers.”

I ignored him and stood a moment with my hands imitating Fernando’s, pulling in my shoulder blades as though my back had gone into spasm. Then I relaxed my back and watched where my hands went. Dehan was watching me curiously. I turned to her and maneuvered her around so she was standing between me and the door. Then I cupped her cheeks in my hands, like I was about to kiss her.

She raised an eyebrow at me. “Not that this isn’t nice, Stone, but a little inappropriate, don’t you think?”

“As I kiss you, you stab me in the back.”

I heard Frank snort behind me. “The cry of men down the ages.”

I leaned in and felt Dehan’s fist thump my back, right over my heart. I contracted my shoulder blades and watched my hands wind up in the same position as Fernando’s.

Dehan said, “Holy cow.”

I turned to look down at him. “He was kissing whoever killed him, and the blood on his hand is from his killer’s face.”

Frank had stood and was staring at me. “Very ingenious, Stone, but you’ll understand that we are not going to turn him over here to inspect his back; not in his present condition. I’ll check him when I get him to my lab, and that’s where I’ll determine cause of death. Though I do tend to agree with you, he was already dead when he was gutted. Let’s get him into a body bag.” This last was directed at the guys from the meat wagon.

Dehan and I went through the apartment, examined his bedroom, the kitchen and the bathroom, but found nothing of any interest, and after fifteen minutes, we went back down to the street, where snow was beginning to fall heavily and a slow, steady stream of headlamps was moving along the avenue: people going home. I shoved my hands deep in my pockets. Dehan stood next to me