Читать книгу The Betrayal - Terry Lynn Thomas - Страница 13

Sharon Bailey walked into her apartment, threw her jacket on the couch, and poured herself a giant glass of wine. Her day had been a long one, full of meetings about manpower and budgets and the general nonsense spouted by the people who do their policing behind a desk and have no clue what officers deal with in the field. Resisting the urge to slug back the entire drink in one go, Sharon raised the glass to her lips and was just about to take a sip when her partner, Ellie Standish, texted her. “We’re up. Pick you up in five.”

Sharon changed her clothes and tucked her Glock into the holster that fit under her jacket. This would be Ellie Standish’s first homicide investigation, and Sharon knew she would have to keep a close eye on her young partner, while also giving her room to learn. Every homicide investigator always remembers their first murder. And there was no denying Officer Ellie Standish was ambitious, much as Sharon had been when she was a young cop starting out. Ellie had a college degree from SF State in addition to high marks at the POST academy, but high marks in school did not necessarily translate to the unique skill set an officer would need while working in the field. This case would be a test for Ellie.

Sharon checked that her door was locked and headed down the stairs, surprised to find Ellie double parked in front of Sharon’s apartment, blocking the street. A brand-new gray Prius slowed to a stop behind her. The driver rolled his window down, stuck his head out, and yelled, “Move your car, you stupid bitch.”

Ellie got out of the car, leaving her door open, and held her badge out in front of her, holding it like a shield as she stomped up to the car. “You have a problem?”

Sharon got in the passenger side, shutting the door so she didn’t have to listen to Ellie tell off a citizen. Glancing around to make sure no one passing by had whipped out a cell phone and started to film, Sharon hunched down in the seat.

A minute later, Ellie was back in the car. “Sorry, boss. People are so impatient these days.”

“Did you really have to flash your badge, Ellie? A friendly apology might have been a little easier.”

Ellie rolled her eyes.

“You do that to the wrong person, and you’ll get written up,” Sharon continued. “For all you know, that could be the chief’s son.”

“Are you joking?”

“Not even a little. I can name two officers in my class at the academy who got fired for that exact same reason.” Sharon faced Ellie. “This job puts you in the public eye, puts you in the position of continual scrutiny. It’s important that you maintain a certain level of decorum. I know that you’re an educated woman, and I know you were at the top of your class in the POST training. I respect that. I want you to succeed. My advice to you, pretend you’re being watched. All. The. Time.”

“I understand,” Ellie said, as she navigated the traffic.

At least she’s a good driver, Sharon thought. “This is your first murder, so let me tell you how I like to do things. We make contact with the officer who responded to the call to make sure the crime scene is secure, okay? If the ME’s already there, we’ll talk to him and then evaluate. Stay close to me at the beginning. Once we get the lay of the land, I’m going to bark out a series of assignments, such as canvassing and looking for CCTV. You can get patrol officers to help. If anyone questions or hesitates to cooperate fully, let me know immediately.”

“Okay,” Ellie said, serious now that Sharon was going to give her some independence.

They didn’t talk as they drove down Geary towards Ocean Beach. The sun started to slip out of the sky, leaving vibrant streaks of pink and purple in its wake. They turned onto 48th Avenue, slowing down as they reached a cluster of black-and-white police cars along with the ME’s van. Sharon was relieved when Ellie parked in a proper spot. Before they got out of the car, Ellie spoke.

“I wanted to apologize. My attitude hasn’t been the best.”

“Apology accepted,” Sharon said.

A crowd had gathered outside the building and two uniforms had constructed a barricade. Ellie and Sharon flashed their badges. As they approached the building, Sharon grabbed Ellie’s arm and pulled her to a stop. “Listen. Your job here – your obligation, if you will – is to the decedent. I know you’re ambitious, and I know you’re thinking this could well be an opportunity for you to shine. I hope that’s true. But your career isn’t important right now. The person who is lying up there dead is the most important thing, okay?”

“Understood,” Ellie said. And for the first time Sharon saw humility and a tinge of fear in the young officer’s eyes.

Sharon tipped her head back and stared up at the gray two-story building, with its bay windows. A curtain flickering in one of the first-floor windows indicated they were being watched.

“I saw that, boss,” Ellie said.

“Good. We’ll want to talk to everyone in that house.”

The body was located in the second-story flat. Sharon and Ellie took the stairs to the front door and were greeted by two uniforms. The older man was short and thick through the middle. He had piercing brown eyes and a no-nonsense manner.

“Inspector Bailey,” he said.

“Officer Watkins,” Sharon said, surreptitiously glancing at the senior officer’s name tag.

“The crime scene tech people are just about finished. You can go in, if you want. The ME’s here, too. This is Officer Finn. He found the body. Go ahead, Finn, give your report.”

Officer Finn wobbled on his feet a bit. His face and lips were pale. Sharon gave him a warm smile, trying her best to put the poor kid at ease. “Take a breath and tell me what happened.”

“Sorry, ma’am. It’s not my first body, but you never get used to it. I responded to a disturbance call made by the downstairs neighbors. They were bothered by the smell. This particular unit is one of those furnished holiday rentals. The owner lives off site, but after the neighbors called her, she came to find out what was going on, and that’s when the body was discovered.”

“Where’s the owner?”

“She left. I asked for information about whoever rented the flat, but she said she had to ask her lawyer before she handed that information over to the police.” Officer Finn reached in his pocket and handed Olivia a business card. “But she gave me her card. She’ll be expecting a call. After that, I secured the scene and called it in.”

“Did you notice anything about the body or the scene? Anything out of place or missing?” Sharon asked.

Officer Finn nodded. “Her dress is covered in red liquid. It smelled like wine. A rope’s been tied around her neck, but I don’t think it killed her. She’s lying on the bed, with her hands clasped over her heart. It looks staged to me.” He shrugged. “That’s not much. I’m sorry.”

“You did very well, Officer Finn.” Sharon turned to Officer Watkins. “We’ll need help with canvassing and CCTV. Can you give me a minute and I’ll have Officer Standish back with marching orders?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Officer Watkins said.

Sharon turned to Ellie. “Ready?”

Ellie nodded.

They opened the door and were assaulted by the smell of death, a mixture of rotten meat, feces, eggs and foul pungent garlic. A thick, viscous smell that stuck to the back of the throat.

“Nothing prepares you for this, but you’ll get used to it,” Sharon said. Ellie’s face had turned a frightening shade of pale, all eagerness gone. “Are you going to be sick?”

Ellie shook her head. “I’ll be fine.”

They walked into the living room, where Sharon paused for a moment, taking in the surroundings, her eyes roving the scene and memorizing the details. It was a comfortably furnished flat, the decorations impersonal and generic, typical of a furnished rental. Conveniently situated, whoever rented this flat could walk across the street to the beach, and just up the hill to the Cliff House and other restaurants. Two sofas faced the bay window, which overlooked the ocean. A dining table with seating for eight people was arranged in a nook off the kitchen. The orange and red tones of the furniture, coupled with the warm oak of the hardwood floors, made the place warm and inviting.

Two officers dressed in the protective coveralls worn by techs stood near the window, looking at photographs on an iPad. They nodded at Ellie and Olivia. The man holding the iPad said, “There’s no wallet or cell phone.”

“No ID?” Sharon asked.

“No. She’ll be processed as a Jane Doe.”

“Thanks.”

“Body’s in the bedroom,” the man said before he turned his back on them and focused once again on the iPad.

Sharon glanced back at Ellie, who had become subdued since they entered the house. Nothing like a dead body to shock the humility into a sassy young cop. Sharon stepped into the room just as Dr. Kristen Ward stood and turned off the tape recorder.

“Sharon. Been a while,” Dr. Ward said. She stepped away from the body and pulled her hood off. “She’s been here for at least a week. Looks like she’s been strangled, but I’ll know more when I get her on the table. You can step close. Crime scene techs are finished, and so am I. Let me know when you’re ready and we’ll take her.”

“What’s up with the rope?”

“Not sure. It certainly didn’t kill her. Staged maybe? I’ve taken photos of it.”

Sharon breathed through her mouth as she stepped close to the body. The decedent was young and blond. In life she had been attractive. Now her eyes bulged and her tongue protruded. Sharon felt the familiar clench of sadness. All murders were difficult, but this young woman appeared at first glance to be an innocent, dressed in a conservative business suit, with hair the natural shade of gold that couldn’t be obtained from a bottle. She wore little makeup, but Sharon was sure she had been wholesomely pretty in life.

Unable to cope with the noxious odor anymore, Sharon led Ellie into the living room. “Get busy with the canvassing. Get the uniforms after all the neighbors, okay? Tell them to make note of those who aren’t available so we can follow up. I’d like you to take the statements of the neighbors tonight, especially the downstairs neighbors who called it in. Be gentle, don’t tell them anything, just ask them questions. Explain that we’ll need to speak to them again. Be kind. Be tactful. Do this by the book, okay? After you do that, see if there is any CCTV in the neighborhood, check businesses in the surrounding areas. Maybe we can get a glimpse of this girl en route. See if you can track her movements.”

Sharon turned to Dr. Ward. “Since there’s no ID, can you run her fingerprints?”

“Will do.”

“Okay, boss,” Ellie said. “Do you want to take the car?”

“No,” Sharon said. “I’ll grab a cab. Do not discuss this case with anyone from the media. I’ll make sure an order comes from on high, but don’t be shy about telling the uniforms to keep it under wraps. Got it?”

“Yes,” Ellie said.

“Keep me posted.” Sharon waited until the body was taken from the building before she walked along the sidewalk that ran parallel to the shore towards the Cliff House, situated at the westernmost part of San Francisco and overlooking the Pacific Ocean. The restaurant was known for its panoramic views. A queue of taxis waited along the street. Sharon grabbed one and asked to be taken to 850 Bryant. She needed to see if anyone matching the dead girl’s description had been reported missing.