Vendetta in Death Read Free Page B

him drop me on the corner. I just wanted some air, to walk a little. I felt so happy, so silly, so good . I didn’t want it to end. Then…”
    She broke off when Vance came back with mugs on a tray.
    “Clip.”
    “It’s okay, come on now, cutes. It’s okay.”
    He set the tray down, put an arm around her. Eve took the mug of black coffee from the tray. From the smell, she knew she’d had worse. She’d had better, God knows, but she’d had worse.
    “If I’d just had Shelly—that was the driver—drop me out front, she’d have seen it first. It’s terrible, but I wish she had. He was just lying there. For a second I thought it was just some awful joke, but then I saw … I think I screamed. I don’t know for sure, but I ran, and I could hardly use my swipe and code to get in I was shaking so bad, and I came right up to Clip.”
    “I thought there’d been an accident. She could hardly tell me. Then I thought, well, she’s pretty lit, she imagined it, but she was so upset.” He kept that protective arm around her as he spoke, his fingers stroking up and down her arm. “I threw on some clothes, went out. And I saw she didn’t imagine it. I called nine-one-one, and the police came.”
    “Did you recognize the victim?”
    “No.” Vance looked at Feinstein, who shook her head.
    “I didn’t really look,” Feinstein added. “I know he was right under the streetlight, but I didn’t really look at his face. He was all, I don’t know, burned. I saw the sign, the note, and that right below it, he’d—”
    “So did I,” Vance added when she broke off. “Someone castrated him.”
    “Could I ask how long you’ve lived in this building?”
    “Two and a half months.” Feinstein managed a ghost of a smile as she took Vance’s hand. “We wanted to have our own place before the wedding. Our first place together.”

 
2
    “V ic ’ s top floor ,” E ve told P eabody as they walked back to the elevator. “Unlikely those two knew him or his wife. A couple of months in the building, eight floors away, twenty-odd years younger.”
    “And this is only one of the vic’s residences,” Peabody added. “So he’s not always here.”
    “He was here long enough to get dead. Let’s see if his family’s in the building.”
    They rode up.
    “The killer’s female, or wants us to think so,” Peabody said. “If the message left has validity, possibly someone he cheated with or raped. But … he was a trim guy, but you’d still need muscle to get him in and out of a vehicle—had to have one—and spread him out on the sidewalk. Maybe she—if it’s a she—had a partner.”
    “Definitely possible. The angle of the ligature marks on the wrists indicates he was restrained with his hands and arms held over his head—taking at least some of his weight. You could haul him up thatway with muscle or with a pulley. Lower him onto some sort of dolly, wheel him up a ramp into a vehicle, wheel him out. It’s a lot, but somebody gave all of it some thought. They sure as hell knew where he lived in New York, when he’d be here. And I didn’t find any defensive wounds.”
    The top floor held more generous units, for a total of six. The McEnroy apartment had the northeast corner with a wide, double-door entrance.
    A cam, palm plate, swipe, solid locks.
    Eve pushed the buzzer.
    The McEnroys are currently not receiving visitors. Please leave your name, your reason for this visit, and your contact information. Thank you.
    Eve held up her badge. “Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, Peabody, Detective Delia, on police business. We need to speak with anyone now in residence.”
    One moment while your identification is verified.
    Eve waited out the scan, held another minute before she heard the locks disengage.
    A house droid opened the left-side door. He stood—like the building—dignified in a dark suit. The sturdy body style told Eve he could likely double as a bodyguard. He spoke in a, well, dignified Brit accent while he