Slaughter Read Free

the risk and the media flack, and the money. I come away clean, move up a notch or two, and there’s more money for me down the line.”
    Quinn didn’t know how Renz figured that, and didn’t want to ask. “What is it that you have,” he said, “that you’re so afraid will bite you in the ass?”
    â€œSomeone is dead,” Renz said. “A young woman whose purse contents identify her as Lois Graham. Got an address in SoHo.”
    â€œIs that where the body is?” Quinn asked. He heard and felt Pearl stir next to him.
    â€œNope. Central Park. Near the Eighty-first Street entrance, not far off Central Park West.”
    â€œSexual assault?”
    â€œMaybe.”
    â€œThat why she was killed?” Women were murdered occasionally in Central Park. So why was Renz calling Quinn about this one?
    â€œThe why isn’t what bothers me. It’s the how.”
    â€œSo what’s the how?”
    â€œYou’d have to see it.”
    Quinn knew Renz was right. Despite the aggravating word games, Quinn would be curious enough to get up and drive to Central Park, even at this early hour.
    â€œI’ll be there soon as I can,” Quinn said.
    â€œBring Pearl.”
    Quinn glanced toward the other side of the king-size bed and saw that Pearl was gone. Pipes rattled and squealed and he heard the shower run. Pearl could shower and dress faster than any woman Quinn had known.
    â€œTry to stop her,” he said.

4
    A fter parking the Lincoln illegally near a loading dock on a side street, Quinn propped his NYPD plaque in the windshield, and he and Pearl jogged across Central Park West toward the park.
    It wasn’t difficult to find the crime scene. White canvas panels were propped on two sides of where Quinn and Pearl assumed the body to lie. Yellow crime scene tape kept gawkers at a distance on the other two sides. A uniform appeared and moved to stop them. Then the young cop recognized Quinn and backed away, pointing needlessly toward the canvas and the knot of uniforms as well as plainclothes cops in suits and ties. Most of the detectives had taken off their suit coats, and their shirts were glued to them so the color of their flesh showed through the damp material.
    Quinn and Pearl moved through dappled morning sunlight toward the crime scene. Today showed every indication of becoming another scorcher. Quinn, as usual, wore a coat and tie as if already on the hunt. Pearl, vividly attractive as ever with her dark hair and eyes and generous figure, had on casual navy slacks and a white tunic. A breeze rattled the leaves on the branches above as they moved toward the body, careful to avoid where the CSU techs told them not to step. Renz noticed them and gave a half wave. He was wearing a light tan suit instead of his commissioner’s uniform. His increasingly rotund form put to waste the expensive material and expert tailoring.
    Doctor Julius Nift, the little necrophiliac (it was rumored) ME, was kneeling by the nude dead woman and looked up and smiled at them. Especially at Pearl, who hated him with a passion.
    Renz also smiled, his flesh-padded cheeks almost hiding his eyes, the fat pink of his bull neck spilling over his white shirt collar.
    â€œMeet Lois Graham,” Nift said. “Beautiful in death.” He rose to his full height, which wasn’t much, and expanded his chest. He saw himself as Napoleonic. Quinn thought of him as a banty rooster with a sour disposition.
    Lois Graham’s clothes were stacked neatly folded off to the side. It took a second look to realize they appeared to have been cut away from her body rather than removed in ordinary fashion. Her pale, still form lay on its back so she seemed to be staring up at the sky with frozen wonder.
    â€œShe has some rack on her,” Nift commented, doubtless trying to get a rise out of Pearl, who ignored him.
    But that wasn’t what sickened and angered Quinn. Lois Graham had been