“What’d the cops find?”
“Not much, but fairly interesting what they did find.”
“Such as?” Harm leaned forward, listening intently.
“For one thing, he had almost seven bucks in change rolled up in an old handkerchief and tied around his ankle, under his sock and pant leg. Sort of a street bum’s idea of financial security I guess. His panhandling cup was on the ground, squashed flat.”
“Like someone had stepped on it?”
“More like someone had stomped on it.”
“They also found the remains of a smashed whiskey pint. From the amount spilled on the ground, probably still full. The police checked with every place he might have bought it between Riverview and the alley but no luck. And I’d think that someone would have remembered Mr. Richards.”
“Maybe he bought the bottle before he went to Riverview.”
“Trust me,” Charlie snorted, “if this guy’d had a pint for more than five minutes, it wouldn’t have been full.”
“Somebody gave it to him?”
“Be a good way to get close to him. Put him off his guard.”
“Any defensive wounds? Blood or skin under his nails?”
“Uh-uh. Whoever did this jumped him from behind.”
Charlie took another gulp of coffee before he continued. “Medical Examiner told me that calling this a stabbing was the understatement of the year.”
“How’s that?”
“Well, for starters, there were nine stab wounds.”
“Nine?” Harm repeated incredulously.
His friend nodded emphatically. “ME says the weapon was probably an ordinary kitchen knife, maybe a carving knife or a butcher knife. Eight inch blade. First blow caught him in the right side of the neck. May have started to turn around or even run. Or whoever did it may have moved around to his front. At any rate, he got another thrust in the throat and a slash in his left arm, maybe trying to protect himself. Then a straight jab in the belly. ME says any one but the arm could have been fatal and that five of the of the wounds were made after Richards was on the ground and helpless.”
“Sounds more personal than a mugging.”
“A lot more personal,” Charlie agreed.
Harm frowned thoughtfully. “Anybody see or hear anything?”
“No. Back door of the deli opens right on to the alley but it’s fifty feet from where it happened. I took a stroll back there at lunchtime. With the racket in that place, you could shoot off a cannon in that alley and no one would hear.”
“What do the police think?”
Charlie shrugged again and snorted. “Mugging. Maybe a fight over the booze or just two bad asses mixing it up. At any rate, file under, ‘To Be Solved After the Next Ice Age.’”
“What do you think?”
The older man rubbed his chin and gazed at the desktop for a few moments.
“Right now, I don’t have enough facts to ‘think’ anything. The evidence, what there is of it, could point to nothing more sinister than what it looks like. Random street violence.”
“But?”
“But my cop’s gut tells me there’s more to it than that. Lot’s more. We’re talking rage…a literal killing fury. And knives are up close and personal, especially nine times. Whoever did this didn’t care about money or booze. He wanted John Richards dead.”
“My client seems to think this may be connected to the panhandling incident at noon. That whoever’s stalking her friend, Elgin Collier, saw Richards grab her, went nuts and stabbed him to avenge her honor.”
“Would explain the ferocity of the attack if nothing else.” He paused, drained the last of his coffee and considered his next words carefully. “Of course, if this guy’s willing to kill a total stranger for putting his hands on the object of his obsession, she could be tap dancing with a cobra. Especially if it’s someone who’s already close to her.”
Harm nodded. “That’s why I’ve made arrangements with my client for Billy and I to go over to Miss Collier’s apartment and check out her computer. If that’s how he got in, we may be able to pick up his trail.”
“Good idea,” the older man agreed thoughtfully. “God knows we’ve both seen enough of this kind of thing to know that it’s a razor’s edge between undying adoration and murderous hatred. One day it’s roses, the next it’s bullets.”
“Well, thanks for all the information. I’ll go over everything tonight with a fine tooth comb and if I’ve got any questions, I’ll be in touch.”
“Good luck, Camp. I have a feeling you’re going to need it.”
Chapter Four
“Oh Sheila,” Elgin snapped, “how could you?”
“Because something needed to be done and obviously you weren’t going to do it,” Sheila replied calmly.
“But a private eye?” Elgin countered, still incredulous at her publisher’s announcement.
“A security professional,” the other woman corrected.
“Well I don’t care what you call it. I will not have some big, dumb rent-a-cop rifling through my life and trailing after me in a Groucho nose and glasses.”
“Surprise,” her friend smiled wickedly, “he’s been investigating this since we found out from the police that panhandler’d been murdered. His company’s also been providing round-the-clock surveillance and security on you and not a Groucho nose anywhere.”
Elgin blinked in disbelief. “Surveillance? Of me?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I don’t believe you. You’re just saying that.” She didn’t sound the least bit convinced.
“Would you like to see the video tapes? I get one every twenty-four hours. And by the way, that guy who gave up the cab for you was a hunk. You should have at least invited him to share.”
Stunned, Elgin dropped into her high back burgundy desk chair. Sheila came to her side and bent over her.
“I didn’t mean to upset you, El,” she soothed, “really, I didn’t. It’s just that you could be in real danger here. Even Mr. Harm thinks there might be a problem. At least something that should be investigated.”
“Mr. Harm?”
“Oh, I forgot. C.A. Harm. He owns Harm’s Way Security. He’s handling this. I checked him out thoroughly and he’s the best there is.”
“But…”
“No ‘buts,’ El,” Sheila cut her off firmly. “I know how you feel about your privacy and I respect that. But face it. Someone’s already invaded that privacy. All Mr. Harm and I are trying to do is find out who and why. And the sooner you start cooperating, the sooner this will all be over and forgotten.”
Elgin exhaled a long, resigned sigh. “Do I have any choice?”
Sheila grinned again. “None. Now get yourself together ‘cause he’s in the living room.”
“I hate this,” Elgin pouted. “And I hate him. And you.”
“I know you do,” Sheila agreed lightly, “and I certainly don’t expect you to be bosom buddies. In fact, I’d settle for you just not clawing his eyes out at this first meeting.”
“No promises,” she sulked, rising from the chair and starting across the room.
They looked, she thought sourly, like Mutt and Jeff as she and Sheila came through the office door and the two men rose from the sofa.
Well, perhaps not two men exactly, she corrected herself silently. More like one tall, fairly nice looking man and a gawky, be-speckled young boy who looked to be about twelve; the only thing missing from his total geek look was a pocket protector.
“Mr. Harm,” Sheila began by way of introduction, “this is Elgin Collier. Ellie, this is C.A. Harm of Harm’s Way Security.”
“Miss Collier,” he said noncommittally, giving her hand a perfunctory shake.
“Mr. Harm,” she replied with an equal lack of emotion.
Oh, Jeez, she grumbled to herself, an alpha male. Strong, assertive type. Like I don’t have enough problems already.
“This is Billy Wendell,” he announced, turning slightly to the young man beside him. “He’s our in-house electronics and technical wizard. He’ll be checking your computer.”