"Not yet," Matt said. "But then, I haven't been here very long."
I wonder why Quaire didn't grab the car?
He watched as all the detectives who would be going to the scene went to filing cabinets, unlocked them, and then took from them their personal equipment, which included their weapons, surgical rubber gloves, and leather- or vinyl-covered folders holding legal tablets.
He followed D'Amata out of Homicide, at the last moment picking up his briefcase, with his laptop inside, from atop a filing cabinet near the door.
[TWO] When Matt got out of the unmarked Ford, he saw that yellow-and-black tape reading POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS had been strung along both sides of the path into the apartment complex to prohibit access to one of the buildings.
Two uniformed white shirts, a captain and a lieutenant, were standing talking to two detectives, one of them a woman, on the concrete path in front of what was obviously the crime scene.
"Captain Alex Smith, the district commander," Joe D'Amata said. "Good guy. I don't make the lieutenant."
"Lew Sawyer," Slayberg furnished. "He's a prick. The broad is from Special Victims, and she's a real bitch."
"What the fuck is she doing here?" Slayberg asked. "Special Victims Unit doesn't have anything to do with homicide investigations, even when the victim has been raped."
"Smile nicely at her, Matt," D'Amata said.
Captain Smith saw the three of them coming and smiled.
"Hello, Joe," he said, putting out his hand.
"Good morning, sir. I know you know Harry, but… Sergeant Payne?"
"Yeah, sure, how are you, Harry?" He shook Slayberg's hand. "I know who you are, Sergeant, but I don't think we've ever actually met."
"I don't think so, sir," Matt said, reaching for Smith's outstretched hand.
"This is Lieutenant Sawyer," Smith said. "And Detectives Domenico and Ellis, of Special Victims."
"I think I used to see you around the Arsenal, didn't I?" Detective Domenico asked.
There was something about her smile Matt didn't like, and he remembered what Slayberg had said.
"I used to be out there with Special Operations," Matt said.
Everybody nodded at each other, but no hands were shaken.
"What have we got, Captain?" Joe asked.
"A dead girl, the doer is probably a sicko, and maybe a problem."
"What kind of a problem?"
"There was a 'Disturbance, House' call here last night. Two cars responded. The lady next door said her mirror fell off the wall. She said the trouble came from the Williamson apartment, and wanted them to check it out. There was no response when the officers rang the bell, no lights, no sounds, and no signs of a break-in. So they couldn't take the door."
"Uh-oh," D'Amata said. "I think I know what's coming."
Captain Smith nodded.
"So they left," he said. "And then the brother let himself in this morning, found his sister, and the lady next door told him what had happened last night. Actually, early this morning. And the brother is pretty upset with the police department for not taking the door the first time we were here."
"Ouch," D'Amata said.
Slayberg's cellular buzzed.
He said his name, listened, then said, "Thanks. We just got here. Wait." He turned to Matt.
"Sergeant, the search warrant is on the way. Grose will bring it. Reeves said there's nothing but a couple of driving violations on either the victim or her brother, and wants to know what you want him to do."
"Tell Grose to tell Reeves to come out with him and the warrant," Matt said, forgetting that he had promised himself to keep his eyes open and his mouth shut.
He stole a quick glance at D'Amata, and saw nothing on his face to suggest he thought Matt had ordered the wrong thing. And he remembered what Quaire had said about his being expected to act like a sergeant.
"Why don't we go have a quick look?" Matt said to D'Amata and Slayberg. "The search warrant's on the way."
He started to walk toward the stairs, and became aware that everybody started to follow him.
I'm not about to tell the district captain he can't have a look at the scene, but that doesn't apply to the lieutenant and certainly not to the smiling lady from Special Victims.
"It's your job, Sergeant, but I would like a look."
"After you, sir," he said, waving Captain Smith ahead of him.
"Lieutenant, would you mind waiting until the Crime Lab people do their thing?" Matt asked.
"I just wanted a quick look, but you're right," Lieutenant Sawyer said.
"You understand," Matt said to Detective Domenico.
The ice in your eyes, Detective Domenico, Sergeant Payne thought, would freeze the balls off a brass monkey. What's your problem? You're not even supposed to be here. This isn't a rape, a child molestation, it's a homicide.
The uniform in front of Cheryl Williamson's door stepped aside when he saw Captain Smith and the others.
Once they got inside, Captain Smith touched Matt's arm.
"I know Sex Crimes," he said, using the old name for the Special Victims Unit, "doesn't have anything to do with a homicide investigation, even when a sexual assault is involved. They just happened to be in my office talking to me about an unsolved rape when this job came out."
"Yes, sir," Matt said. And then he saw in Joe D'Amata's eyes that he found this interesting. After a moment, so did Matt.
An unsolved rape and they just happened to be here at a homicide rape scene? Is there something else we're not being told? I think I'll have to send a team over to the Special Victims Unit to see what their files may have.
Without a word Joe D'Amata opened his leather-bound notepad, turned to the last page of the tablet, and scrawled a note for himself:Sex Crimes, unsolved rape in area, Lt. Sawyer, Det. Domenico, Ellis.
There was another female detective in the apartment, sitting on the couch beside a well-dressed, somewhat distraught-looking man.
She stood up when she saw them.
Sergeant Payne had an unprofessional thought:Now, that's a very interesting member of the opposite sex.
"Captain, I'd rather not have anybody in there until we get the search warrant and the Crime Lab," the very interesting member of the opposite sex said.
"The warrant's on the way," Matt said. "And we're just going to stand in the door for a quick look."
"Take a good long look," the man on the couch said, as he stood up. "If you cops did what you're supposed to do, my sister would probably still be alive."
"I'm very sorry for your loss, sir," D'Amata said.
"You're sorry? That does Cheryl a lot of fucking good."
"Who are you?" Detective Olivia Lassiter asked, almost a challenge.
"Joe D'Amata, Homicide," D'Amata said. "I've got the job. This is Harry Slayberg, and Sergeant Payne."
D'Amata and Slayberg nodded at Detective Lassiter as they walked around Matt to the bedroom door.
"Who are you?" Matt asked.
"Lassiter, Northwest Detectives," she said.
D'Amata and Slayberg stood in the doorway of Cheryl Williamson's bedroom and looked around-without entering-for about sixty seconds. Then they stepped away from the bedroom door and started looking around the living room. Captain Smith went to the bedroom door.
"Jesus," he said, softly.
Matt saw that D'Amata and Slayberg had rubber gloves on their hands, wondered why he hadn't seen them put them on, and pulled a pair of his own from his pocket.
He was about to walk to the door when the apartment door opened again and two men entered. Payne knew one of them, a balding, rumpled man in a well-worn suit, Dr. Howard Mitchell of the medical examiner's office. He had with him a photographer, a young man Matt could not remember ever having seen before.
Matt found it interesting that Dr. Mitchell had come to the scene personally. Usually technicians from the M.E.'s office worked a death scene, and the M.E. did not; he either supervised the autopsy or did it himself.